Vanilla

Family

What is a family?

A family cannot be just blood can it?

Part of the problem why I feel so emotional all the time recently is because I work in a very family orientated environment, I need shrewd, dark business environment not loving, family, caring bulshit.

It is a constant reminder of what I do not have and what I will never have. I do not fit in. And my heart aches for it. i don't need that. I must be tough, brutal and shrewd. i cannot think of what I want or need because truth is that it can never be.

I will never have a father.
I will never have a family.
I will never have that wedding.
I will never have any of it, i am alone and i must deal with it. I am not the only one who doesn't have these things, Life is unfair and we are all victim of circumstance but we must deal with it.

As I've mentioned before somewhere, January and December are my worst months. It is the build up to my fathers death. It is just a melancholy time. Where i reflect upon everything my heart yearned for from him. Isn't it funny...we can never fully let go of such great loss.

Grieve is such a bewildering thing. We never really stop grieving or feeling the pain of death of someone close to us (whether we have good memories or bad) it never truly leaves us we just learn to deal with it better.

It was sort of a game you know. How quickly could i run with the bedroom key.
My mother always locked the door to our bedroom because thats where she would hide the benefits money from my father. If my father had his own way he would spend all the money on alcohol and ciggs.

i would always run fast to the bathroom and lock the door. i would grab the key from my mums hands because i knew that as long as she had the keys he would keep hitting her till she gave in...but my mother would try her best to keep it away as long as she could so he couldn't get it until of course she was beat to the floor...then naturally it was time to give in to his sick addiction. I would lock the door and then wait...my heart would be pounding...anticipating what will happen next. What usually came next was him trying to break the bathroom door down. i would sit there clutching that damn key so tight and just wait it out till he calmed down....till he realised the door isn't going to break...i was always sure one of these days he would break it down and boy would I be done for, because that moment of his rage was horrible i know in that moment he would kill me for that money. I would always see the door about to break...because he would pound it so hard...around this time i would close my eyes and pray ....pray that he doesn't break the door. Luckily he was too drunk to use all his force. Then i would just sit there...while he slowly gathered himself went back downstairs...heard my parents arguing full force and then my mother would tell me i can come out now...I should give the key back as it was time to give him money to buy alcohol.

There was this one time he broke down the bathroom door...I don't remember it much though...i think those are the things I've blocked out. The sucked because then i had to use my strength. So this time run up to the bathroom and I would have to hold the door while he pounded it and tried to get in. That was hard because I was anxious, nervous and so afraid that if my strength to hold this door fails me I am going to be beaten to a pulp. I did always somehow manage to have the strength to hold the door maybe because he was so heavily drunk.

My father was a big guy, he looked big, broad shoulders and scary...crazy. Everyone in my area knew not to mess with him not because he was physically strong (which he was) but because he was plain nuts. i guess to people he appeared so unstable he would be the type to shoot someone and then shoot himself...but he loved himself way too much to shoot himself too.

Dysfunctional much?