I know why they hate me.

I have always wondered how my family would not tell me when my father was in the hospital, where he died, from pancreatitis or when he was having open heart surgery. A quadruple by-pass.  They think I killed Daddy.  Huh, I didn’t know I was that powerful.  My Mother has disliked me from as long ago that I can remember.  I used to wonder if they died, who would take me?  Momma had to keep me cause I was hers, even though she didn’t like me.  I couldn’t think of one person who loved me.  My Nanna didn’t like me either because I looked just like my Mother.  And Nanna hated Momma and tried to break Momma and Daddy up. Leave all us little bastards.  The only place I felt loved was when I was at Grannie’s house. I was one of the kids that got in the way at home.  It’s hard to party with kids under foot.  I got yelled at a lot.  But anyway, you get the gist of what I’m about to tell you.

They think I killed Daddy by telling him about my problems I had with feeling so bad about how I grew up and how I was so hurt about. It all started at a time I was living with Momma and Daddy until I could get my place to live when I filed for a divorce. One morning very early like 2 or 3 o’clock, the phone rang.  I was sleeping on the couch and I heard my Daddy say to my Mother, “Johnny’s dead”.  Uncle Johnny is my father’s brother.  It all started when I said, “I’m sorry you lost your brother. But I didn’t like the way he treated you all your adult life”.  I was parroting what my momma  had told us most of our lives. I went to take a bath and while I was in there, mom jumped right onto the phone and told everybody that I said I didn’t give a shit about my father’s loss and I was glad he was dead.  Well, lets say it got ugly.  I was physically assaulted and then they wouldn’t let me leave. They pulled my car keys away.  And I was blamed for his heart attack that happened a year later. Never mind that he was born with a hole in his pericardium sack around his heart or his diet.  They didn’t even tell me when he had open heart surgery or when he was so sick that he said he was going to die. They blame me for his death.  They all think I am so horrible they didn’t even tell me when Daddy’s service was. I went to the service anyway. They couldn’t stop me from reading the paper.  I was strong armed away.  Why?  Because they all hated me for killing Daddy. I didn’t lay eyes on my father alive for  whole year before he died.  My sister came to my house sometime when Daddy was in the hospital, but I wouldn’t know since nobody told me when he went in.  Anyway, she drove to my house, which she wasn’t allowed to drive at the time for health reasons. I thought somebody had died.  She came in my house ready to fight me.  I had a business thing to go to in a few minutes and I was dressed up.  I told her I wasn’t going to get into a bar room brawl fight with her and asked her to leave my house.  She said, “make me”.  I ask her several times and she refused.  I pick up  the phone and she pulled the cord out of my house phone. I was walking to the cordless phone and as I was walking, she ran across the living room and jumped on my back. Needless to say, I fell backwards.  Backwards onto the fireplace hearth.  It took 10 staples to close that head wound.  I t bleed a lot, but head wounds do.y brother choking me at the hospital.  And I am the bad one. Oh and one piled drive me on a concrete porch.  Another head wound. What followed in the next 7 years is no one knew where I was except my son. I didn’t communicate.  And no one cared.  Oh yeah and I spent 3 days unconscious in the ICU from a drug overdose because I wanted to die and almost made it. If I hadn’t been found when I did, it was a done deal. I was found by the police when my ex called them to have me arrested for missing a court date.  I thought I would have more time.

I got to thinking about that and thought back to times when I risked my live or heart to save someone.  One day, my sister and I walked to the park on the other side of the train tracks.  Coming back we were crossing the railroad tracks and there was a train bearing down on us.  We ran.  My sister’s foot sled on the gravel and her foot went under the track.  The train was hauling and I was running.  I looked back and saw my sister stuck.  I  thought that she was going to get run down.  I was afraid but I started back and ran into the path of the train, all the while the conductor’s whistle screaming.  I got behind my sister and pulled her back and out.  I jerked her hard to get us out of the way.  All she remembers is that I was afraid and stopped a second.  She doesn’t remember any of the times I stepped up for her.  Double or triple dating and I got a semi-man off her.  He was literally on top of her.  She was big chested and he want to feel her breast. I heard her telling him to get off she couldn’t breathe but he wasn’t moving so I stepped up and come over the back of the front seat and pulled him off her.  The rest of my siblings come to me when they are feeling suicidal and depressed, because I have tried and failed to commit suicide. Not for lack of trying.  Sitting and talking to them when they are feeling so bad for hours.  Why am I a horrible person?  And how did I kill my Daddy? I asked  my mother if she could tell me why all my siblings hated me. I had her trapped in the car going 50 mph. She couldn’t refuse to answer me when she couldn’t get out and she knew I would keep on until she could escape my vehicle. She told me they hated me for being bossy. Oh. They hated me for being bossy.  Does that makes sense to any of you? I am bossy. I just know how you should be doing things, but refusing to let me see my father before he died? I can not just forgive that and let it go, like they want me too. They call it browbeating them. So I have recieved no apologies for doing this to me except momma screaming at me saying”I’m sorry! What more do you want from me? .”They think they are justified in their actions. My sister said she came out there to tell me she was going to fight me for making daddy look like he was going to cry after I called him.  I’m sorry I made him sad about the things that went on. But I did not kill him.

Advertisements

About 1wanderingtruthseeker

I'm a fiftish woman that has opinions and passions about nearly everything under the sun. I love a good debate, not name calling. I believe in the Constitution , the Bill of Rights and God. I believe the government which governs the least is the best government of all. I believe in the rights of the people. I dispatched fire trucks, the Po-Po and ambulances for a long time so I have a wicked sense of dark humor and speak fluent sarcasm. I think out loud a lot times. I am offensive. But I'm offensive of everybody. Socially unacceptable, plain spoken and unashamed. If you don't want to be offend, please don't read and if you do, please consider that I'm not politically correct in any sense of the word.
This entry was posted in another day in paradise and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

throw in your 2 cents worth.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s