I haven’t been writing much on here lately. Well, if I’m being honest, I haven’t written at all since right before Christmas. Things have changed since then, I have changed since then. It felt like I was kicked down a well unexpectedly and it’s taken me this long to dig myself out. A couple weeks this time, I suppose that’s not too bad. I didn’t revert back to using any substances. No, I just felt the pain instead. I felt the rage. Uncomfortable in my skin with it flowing through my veins.
Now, I am not unfamiliar to holiday traumas. I’ve had family members (yes multiple, different years) pass away right before the holiday season began. I haven’t seen my father’s face in 5 years. It was especially difficult at Christmas for the first few years since that was the time he showed he cared. He stopped giving presents when he moved away as well. It almost feels like a death in that way, except I still receive a text message. A death of what used to be, everything I knew up until that point. The literal death of my uncle, my Grandma both happened right before Thanksgiving. The only other family members on my dad’s side I was close to. Then we have my mom, this year being the first year I’ve chosen no contact. There have been years in the past where I didn’t see my mom at all during the holidays. Where she was somewhere traveling out of the country with her husband instead. My present would be a partially paid vacation where I would have to somehow find a way to buy two plane tickets for a place to stay of their choosing for me and my son. The time and place already determined. This was also where I had to listen to hours and hours of conspiracy theories with no escape. Merry Christmas to me. This year, my mom told my sister that she is OK if we don’t talk again in this lifetime. That she knows we’ll meet again in the afterlife. Apparently she now has spirit guides. The thing is, that didn’t make me enraged. No, these facts alone I was dealing with pretty well if I do say so myself. I thought that not having any family to speak of on Christmas, barely being in contact with both of my parents, spending the Christmas day alone was enough. That there was no way anything else could upset me around the holidays. What else could be taken away? What could hurt me if I already had so little in the way of people for support?
But then, the night before Christmas Eve I get a phone call. It’s a number with an out of state area code. I let it go to voice-mail (of course my voice-mail is full). Then I get a text. “I wanted to tell (insert my son’s name here) in person but he’s been dodging me.” I thought, “Well thats odd. It’s someone I know if they know my son’s name.” I respond back, “Who is this?” While simultaneously googling the area code. A Florida number. I live in New York. My heart sinks to my stomach. I already know what is happening before it’s explained to me. It’s such a shock that it takes days to fully process everything in its entirety. My son’s father moved to Florida, but he didn’t tell us at the Christmas performance the week prior. He didn’t make an effort to see him to let him know in person, although that isn’t a shock he’s barely seen him in years. It took me days to realize that it had been 3 weeks since I’ve received any child support. Which means he hasn’t worked in that long since it’s garnished right from his wages. By the time I noticed he was already gone. I don’t like checking my bank account in December for obvious reasons. Looks like this time it really would’ve helped to not avoid myself. I call and violate him, I’ve been through this before. He’s ignoring my messages, my son’s messages. It’s now the week between Christmas and New Years. I’m filled with a rage that I’ve had building in me for almost two decades. Not only does he barely contribute, blindside me on the holidays (he also served me with court papers on mother’s day one year to try to get out of child support. FYI – that’s not how the system works), but he also has been sexually harassing me for years as well. Not only do I have an endless well of rage for him but I’m also angry at myself. I’ve become accustomed to his drunken texts and calls. I say nothing and think, “Well at least he’s paying child support.” But now I’ve finally had enough.
He’s been ignoring me for days while I put the pieces together. I decide to let him know who really holds the power. I send him one text and say, “If you don’t call me within the hour I will send all the messages you sent to me on October 30th to your wife and your entire family.” He called me right away. This enraged me more. After I got information (barely) about what the hell he is doing for work after (randomly) moving to Florida I say, “if you ever sexually harrass me again I’m filing charges against you. Don’t ever talk to me like that again. Don’t ever harass me again. Do you understand me?” He agreed. The last wave of drunken messages flowed in at the end of October accompanied with call after call after call and even a text stating, “I’m in your driveway.” When I never answered him. At the very least I will see what I can do to stop the harassment the next time it happens. Although now I suppose it’s a mute point. He lives states away. I should’ve handled it years ago. The reason I didn’t? To keep the peace. To give my son a semblance of a family. To make it seem like we got along. And look at how he repaid me. I also told him my days of protecting him are over. And I know my son wants nothing to do with him. Not my problem anymore.
After I was fully engulfed in my rage for days, a deep, deep depression took hold of me. I have been fighting my way out of it ever since. I know my son is what keeps me alive. I am grateful to him. The past few days I’ve started to feel the clouds pass, I’m starting to feel like I can move off the couch again. I’m starting to feel like maybe one day I’ll feel like my life will have purpose. Or that I’ll feel like I’m winning after constantly losing. It feels like for the last week and a half I’ve been holding my breath. Hanging on for dear life inside. But I’m going to be alright. Maybe even better than I was before. I’m just happy I’m starting to see the light.
The Girl Without A Face 