Good Evening!
It has been a while since I wrote anything and I am silently cursing at myself because I am doing everything I told myself I was not gonna do, which literally is to write regularly. But I am back to give you some updates on my life.
My second semester of grade 12 is going fabulously! I love every single one of my classes (even if I only have 3) and all my teachers. Their classes I actually wanna take, my favourite being writer's craft, I finally have the time and excuse to not structure my paragraphs and I have a reason to get to school every morning. Most of the time I'm still late. I have to keep a blog for that class as well but it doesn't cut so deep into my life, although I still briefly dig into why and who I am, its the light blanket stuff that makes you sad enough but not enough to call the police. I have a good group of friends in each class and I still get to have lunch with my best friend every day.
This is sem is flying by, discussions about prom dresses and graduation heels are paired with after-prom parties and grad trips. Things are happening a lot faster than I had expected and although it mostly excited it still dawns on me how fast I am running out of time. I am making all the best memories and taking lots of pictures too but it still sits in the back of the mind that in a couple of months nothing will be the same. We won't have that innocent high school gaze and things like actually adulting are something we're running right into.
Speaking of next year, I found myself a roommate! I ran into one of my old best friends at the coffee shop and after getting to talking we found out we want to go to the same university! We get along well enough and we have somewhat similar living habits plus she knows when to party and when to not party. We get along great and I know I'll have someone to run with me to get food at 2AM. I dont want to hope too much, but I want to hope a lot
In relation to my home life. it's okay I guess. My parents are back to normal they've swept it under the rug and so I have been forced to do the same thing even if I dont want to. I won't do anything about it though, I dont want to disrupt the peace. But still every time my dad yells at me, I wanna yell back "you're a horrible person, you raped somebody". I know I could do some real damage with that. Is it horrifying that I want to throw it in his face like that? Ugh, I just hate entire situation, but I just have to make it a couple more months and then I am out of here, ill be back only for a little amount of time now. And as much as I'll miss everyone I have here, I can't keep living like this. It's not forever, maybe one day ill be numb to it and get retrograde amnesia or something.
anyways, I have to get back to it now, from now on I wanna slowly drift away from my parents and maybe write some more fun stuff, like a good movie or my favourite songs who knows ill figure it out, I always do
Monday, February 18, 2019
Monday, January 21, 2019
Kadima
Kadima is the Hebrew word for forwarding. It is often used at times of graduation.
In a sense, I am graduating to. From my pain, it's been a couple days but its starting to hurt less.
I don't know where I really stand when it comes to the actions of my father's past, things are tense and awkward.
Now that I know everything, there is no way things will be the way they once were.
I can step back and remember what things were like before, its like two people exist within him, and before I could only see one at a time but now they are both blurring together and every nice fatherly thing he does is followed by the visions of his darkness. I can't separate the two anymore, I don't know if I will ever be able to.
It seems like they intend to sweep it under the rug, my parents I mean.
That I am angry about, even though the idea of divorce always scared me, I know their lives would be increasingly better if they were apart.
Each fight they have just gets bigger and the impacts last longer, it's dangerous, like a ticking time bomb, getting closer to exploding every time it hits the floor.
I, on the other hand, have a new perspective on life. The same one that made me see divorce as not the end of the world but a new beginning. I have realized the power and destruction of my own mind and loneliness have. Left alone I am left to my imagination which creates nightmares instead of dreams.
After talking to an amazing person in my life, she made me realize that I am responsible for my own happiness.
That the world is always going to be falling apart and to thrive in it, I have to actively seek out the ways and things that make me happy.
It would help me keep my sanity.
I do that now.
And it has been incredible.
I find joy in little things I would never have thought twice about last year.
Little things like eating breakfast.
Seeing the many colours in the sky.
Seeing the smiles on the faces of my friends.
The laughter we share when we burst out with our favourite songs.
The eyes on the cute boy I wanna kiss.
The smoke that floats to the sky from our crappy makeshift bong.
The smells of flowers and tangerines that come from my candle.
The way my dog falls asleep in your arms if you pet his head long enough.
Just listening to them talk about funny things that have happened.
Just hearing the song on the radio from that time we drove for ages together.
Just witnessing them fall back into some of the memories that we have made.
I am not always okay, but I am getting there.
I have come to realize that my situation sucks, but if I didn't have the people in my life that I do.
It would be a lot worse
In a sense, I am graduating to. From my pain, it's been a couple days but its starting to hurt less.
I don't know where I really stand when it comes to the actions of my father's past, things are tense and awkward.
Now that I know everything, there is no way things will be the way they once were.
I can step back and remember what things were like before, its like two people exist within him, and before I could only see one at a time but now they are both blurring together and every nice fatherly thing he does is followed by the visions of his darkness. I can't separate the two anymore, I don't know if I will ever be able to.
It seems like they intend to sweep it under the rug, my parents I mean.
That I am angry about, even though the idea of divorce always scared me, I know their lives would be increasingly better if they were apart.
Each fight they have just gets bigger and the impacts last longer, it's dangerous, like a ticking time bomb, getting closer to exploding every time it hits the floor.
I, on the other hand, have a new perspective on life. The same one that made me see divorce as not the end of the world but a new beginning. I have realized the power and destruction of my own mind and loneliness have. Left alone I am left to my imagination which creates nightmares instead of dreams.
After talking to an amazing person in my life, she made me realize that I am responsible for my own happiness.
That the world is always going to be falling apart and to thrive in it, I have to actively seek out the ways and things that make me happy.
It would help me keep my sanity.
I do that now.
And it has been incredible.
I find joy in little things I would never have thought twice about last year.
Little things like eating breakfast.
Seeing the many colours in the sky.
Seeing the smiles on the faces of my friends.
The laughter we share when we burst out with our favourite songs.
The eyes on the cute boy I wanna kiss.
The smoke that floats to the sky from our crappy makeshift bong.
The smells of flowers and tangerines that come from my candle.
The way my dog falls asleep in your arms if you pet his head long enough.
Just listening to them talk about funny things that have happened.
Just hearing the song on the radio from that time we drove for ages together.
Just witnessing them fall back into some of the memories that we have made.
I am not always okay, but I am getting there.
I have come to realize that my situation sucks, but if I didn't have the people in my life that I do.
It would be a lot worse
Sunday, January 20, 2019
The Truth
for a while now I've wondered if anyone would read this blog. I've debated whether or not I cared or not or if I actually wanted anyone to read it. Today I hope no one does, at least for not a while so I can write enough to cover this specific post.
The truth is that I can't hold it in. Is this a secret that is supposed to bring to the grave? I don't know and after I post this, it won't be anymore. It was a dark place for me, I couldn't stop thinking about what I knew and how I wish I never found out. even when it sought help I've filtered the story, made it easier to swallow for other people, hoping and praying they would never go through the trauma I went through.
I've stalled for too long. I need to say it... or in this case, type it I guess.
I recently took a vacation to Punta Cana with my family. It was a well-needed break for me from all the stress of school, little did I know, I would come back wishing for that stress to be the only stress I felt.
For most of the trip, till the last night, I shared a room with my older cousin, we spent most of the trip together, enjoying each other's company and the distance from our parents. The third day is when I started feeling the pit in my stomach. My mom found me at breakfast and told me that my dad had come back to their room at 5AM, drunk off his ass, escorted by a security guard. The information was bare but essentially he had gotten into a fight for some reason and had been kicked out of the club. Although I was angry I was used to my dad's alcoholism, my last post will inform you on that, it was easier than usual to forget about that whole incident since I only caught glimpses of my dad while we were on the trip.
I, honestly, almost forgot it happened until the last day. My cousin and her family went home one day earlier because they couldn't get that seventh day of work. It sucked losing my travel buddy but we were leaving the next day so I only had to deal with my parents for a couple hours and few naps on the beach and the trashy cable movies in our hotel room would take care of that.
Or so I thought.
The morning after my cousin got on her bus to the airport my mom dragged me to the beach. While swimming she told me she wanted a divorce. I was a little shocked, but divorce wasn't something I hadn't heard before. My parents had tossed it around a couple times when they fought but neither of them had ever followed through. It was normally something they said in the heat of the moment and while time went on their anger usually subsided. My mom followed by saying she would talk to me more tonight that she had something to tell me. (After my cousins left, so did our shared hotel room, in turn, I moved into my mom's room and my dad moved into a room with another uncle that had traveled with us).
THIS IS THE HARD PART:
My mom told me that while she and my aunt had been lounging on the beach a man came up to them and told them the reason that my dad had gotten into a fight. Apparently while in the disco, my dad had groped several women, eventually the man's wife had yelled at my dad causing enough attention to get people to throw him out. My dad then wandered all the way to the beach where he stripped naked and decided to jerk off in front of some families. That's where he got hit the most by the fathers of those young kids.
After my mom told me that, I felt nauseous, tears slipped from my eyes, but there was more;
My mom then told me a story. When I was young, around 10 years old, the police came to our house to take my father to the station. I was asleep when it happened apparently and my parents + relatives were very good at keeping it a secret. My mom didn't know what was happening, but my dad said it was a small thing and went with the officer. My mom told me that my dad had gone to a work party the night before so she naturally assumed a fight had occurred or a public disturbance, so she prayed that night and tried to go to sleep. She lied to me the next morning saying my dad went to work and rushed my innocence out the door to school. She then called her sister and my dad's sister, to tell them my dad had been taken by the police, both their husbands had gone to work so my mom went by herself to the courts to post bail. When she got there the clerk asked my mom if she knew what my dad had done. She replied no, still confused about the entire situation. The clerk told my mom that at the work party my dad had gone to the night before, he and a co-worker of his had raped the girlfriend of the host. raped. that's when I threw up. She posted a bail of $75,000 and got my dad out. A couple of days later my parents faked a family dinner and sent me and my cousins upstairs to play while the adults stayed downstairs to intervene. My dad promised to never drink again and that was that.
After she told me that I started crying and I couldn't stop, but she wasn't done.
The last story my mom told me, took place a year and a half after the rape. My aunt (mom's sister) had invited us for dinner. My dad had begun drinking again. That night it was wine. My aunt had asked my dad and uncle to drink in the mudroom so that us kids wouldn't see. My uncle had a couple of glasses but my dad was chugging. A little while into the evening my aunt whispered to my mom that my dad was looking at her kinda funny and she was a little weirded out. Then once as he was coming out of the mudroom, he slapped my aunt's ass as he made his way to the living room. My aunt felt all types of violated, she had considered my dad a loving older brother, but at that moment that all fell away. I didn't know it then, but that situation is the reason why I barely saw my cousins for a year.
That's it.
I still can't grasp it to the fullest extent. How my dad had become what he was after having a daughter. A daughter like me, specifically. He has sat there on the couch with me while I called for the heads of rapists. He dropped me off downtown for the women's march.
His actions are inexcusable and if anyone did come for him because of them, I would not stand in their way. Father or not, any women who have been violated in such horrific ways deserve justice.
I can't look at him anymore, let him hug me or even have a conversation with him. All the lines have blurred and I can't separate the man that raised me from the rapists that lied within. I am no competition to the women he has assaulted but he ruined my life to. I have to live with the fact that my dad is a monster.
This knowledge shattered my existence, everything I ever knew felt like the ground under me was gone. For a while, I forgot how to breathe, I couldn't even look at people anymore. There have been so many people who have met my dad, who think he is one of the coolest dads they know. What would they think if the father of a hardcore feminist was a rapist?
Its been a couple of weeks since everything went down. My mom dropped her divorce threats and substituted them for counseling. My aunts and uncles know. My mom told my aunt to tell my cousins, I don't know if she did though. I don't know who to talk to about this. Who will listen to me without judging me?
I'm not fine with brushing it under the rug.
Everyone else seems to be though.
The truth is that I can't hold it in. Is this a secret that is supposed to bring to the grave? I don't know and after I post this, it won't be anymore. It was a dark place for me, I couldn't stop thinking about what I knew and how I wish I never found out. even when it sought help I've filtered the story, made it easier to swallow for other people, hoping and praying they would never go through the trauma I went through.
I've stalled for too long. I need to say it... or in this case, type it I guess.
I recently took a vacation to Punta Cana with my family. It was a well-needed break for me from all the stress of school, little did I know, I would come back wishing for that stress to be the only stress I felt.
For most of the trip, till the last night, I shared a room with my older cousin, we spent most of the trip together, enjoying each other's company and the distance from our parents. The third day is when I started feeling the pit in my stomach. My mom found me at breakfast and told me that my dad had come back to their room at 5AM, drunk off his ass, escorted by a security guard. The information was bare but essentially he had gotten into a fight for some reason and had been kicked out of the club. Although I was angry I was used to my dad's alcoholism, my last post will inform you on that, it was easier than usual to forget about that whole incident since I only caught glimpses of my dad while we were on the trip.
I, honestly, almost forgot it happened until the last day. My cousin and her family went home one day earlier because they couldn't get that seventh day of work. It sucked losing my travel buddy but we were leaving the next day so I only had to deal with my parents for a couple hours and few naps on the beach and the trashy cable movies in our hotel room would take care of that.
Or so I thought.
The morning after my cousin got on her bus to the airport my mom dragged me to the beach. While swimming she told me she wanted a divorce. I was a little shocked, but divorce wasn't something I hadn't heard before. My parents had tossed it around a couple times when they fought but neither of them had ever followed through. It was normally something they said in the heat of the moment and while time went on their anger usually subsided. My mom followed by saying she would talk to me more tonight that she had something to tell me. (After my cousins left, so did our shared hotel room, in turn, I moved into my mom's room and my dad moved into a room with another uncle that had traveled with us).
THIS IS THE HARD PART:
My mom told me that while she and my aunt had been lounging on the beach a man came up to them and told them the reason that my dad had gotten into a fight. Apparently while in the disco, my dad had groped several women, eventually the man's wife had yelled at my dad causing enough attention to get people to throw him out. My dad then wandered all the way to the beach where he stripped naked and decided to jerk off in front of some families. That's where he got hit the most by the fathers of those young kids.
After my mom told me that, I felt nauseous, tears slipped from my eyes, but there was more;
My mom then told me a story. When I was young, around 10 years old, the police came to our house to take my father to the station. I was asleep when it happened apparently and my parents + relatives were very good at keeping it a secret. My mom didn't know what was happening, but my dad said it was a small thing and went with the officer. My mom told me that my dad had gone to a work party the night before so she naturally assumed a fight had occurred or a public disturbance, so she prayed that night and tried to go to sleep. She lied to me the next morning saying my dad went to work and rushed my innocence out the door to school. She then called her sister and my dad's sister, to tell them my dad had been taken by the police, both their husbands had gone to work so my mom went by herself to the courts to post bail. When she got there the clerk asked my mom if she knew what my dad had done. She replied no, still confused about the entire situation. The clerk told my mom that at the work party my dad had gone to the night before, he and a co-worker of his had raped the girlfriend of the host. raped. that's when I threw up. She posted a bail of $75,000 and got my dad out. A couple of days later my parents faked a family dinner and sent me and my cousins upstairs to play while the adults stayed downstairs to intervene. My dad promised to never drink again and that was that.
After she told me that I started crying and I couldn't stop, but she wasn't done.
The last story my mom told me, took place a year and a half after the rape. My aunt (mom's sister) had invited us for dinner. My dad had begun drinking again. That night it was wine. My aunt had asked my dad and uncle to drink in the mudroom so that us kids wouldn't see. My uncle had a couple of glasses but my dad was chugging. A little while into the evening my aunt whispered to my mom that my dad was looking at her kinda funny and she was a little weirded out. Then once as he was coming out of the mudroom, he slapped my aunt's ass as he made his way to the living room. My aunt felt all types of violated, she had considered my dad a loving older brother, but at that moment that all fell away. I didn't know it then, but that situation is the reason why I barely saw my cousins for a year.
That's it.
I still can't grasp it to the fullest extent. How my dad had become what he was after having a daughter. A daughter like me, specifically. He has sat there on the couch with me while I called for the heads of rapists. He dropped me off downtown for the women's march.
His actions are inexcusable and if anyone did come for him because of them, I would not stand in their way. Father or not, any women who have been violated in such horrific ways deserve justice.
I can't look at him anymore, let him hug me or even have a conversation with him. All the lines have blurred and I can't separate the man that raised me from the rapists that lied within. I am no competition to the women he has assaulted but he ruined my life to. I have to live with the fact that my dad is a monster.
This knowledge shattered my existence, everything I ever knew felt like the ground under me was gone. For a while, I forgot how to breathe, I couldn't even look at people anymore. There have been so many people who have met my dad, who think he is one of the coolest dads they know. What would they think if the father of a hardcore feminist was a rapist?
Its been a couple of weeks since everything went down. My mom dropped her divorce threats and substituted them for counseling. My aunts and uncles know. My mom told my aunt to tell my cousins, I don't know if she did though. I don't know who to talk to about this. Who will listen to me without judging me?
I'm not fine with brushing it under the rug.
Everyone else seems to be though.
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