A Touchy Subject

A typical day at school yesterday, coming home to get some homework done before cheer practice, and heading to the boyfriends house. It seemed just like every other normal Wednesday until my mom brought in the mail and handed me a letter. Being a teen, I'm not usually contacted via mail but usually through text or phone call. Least to say, I was surprised. Even more surprised at the fact that I had received a letter from my father. Weird right? I guess I really haven't shared my history with my father, but that's because it's a prettty touch subject for me. First off, you need to know that the father I'm referring to is simply the person that brought me into this world, and that's about it. He is my biological father and my mother and him were never married. I guess you could say I was a bit of a "surprise" but my mother loved me from the moment she knew I was on the way. My father, on the other hand, he had a bit too much fun as a kid and inherited a disease that runs in the family: alcoholism and he was too worried about consuming as much alcohol he could so that he could continue to obtain a good drunkness throughout the entire day. I love my mother to death, but I must say I never saw what she saw in him. On the day of my birth, he promised he would stay sober and he did so for the first 6 months of my life. Considering I can't remember it, I'm going to hope it was pretty joyous. But after that, it was never the same for me or for my mom. She was finally smart enough to leave him when I turned one year, knowing that if she stayed we'd either end up in welfare or die. We moved into a smaller apartment and a couple years later, she remarried to my current stepfather whom I don't consider a stepfather, but an actual father figure. I don't have that awkward relationship like most do and I don't resent him for the fact that he "broke up" my parents, I'm happy that he saved us and I will eternally love him. But you probably want to know what happened to my father ? Well after living up the high life, he began living in the "Safe Place" a home downtown for those with addiction problems. He seemed on the right path, for a couple weeks perhaps, but he always has a tendency to be selfish. He began working for a car dealership and when he wouldn't make as much as he thought he could, which was way above anything he needed to be making. He'd give up, he'd drink, and he'd drive. He's lost his license over 5 times in his life for driving while intoxicated, and frankly has never stopped drinking.

Sometimes I swear my mother is a saint. He could be in jail for paying zero child support or for being publicly intoxicated all the time, but she let him live. He's a member of AA (Alcholics Anonymous) and for a couple months every so often he will get really involved, but it's never permanent. Something will go wrong whether it be: a girl, a job, or me and my mom, he always has some reason to begin drinking again. After he's hit rock bottom for the 12th time, he swears his life has changed, he'll invite me over to his current living quarters and sit me down to have dinner (usually some stuff off the dollar menu at McDonalds) and discuss him coming back into my life. The problem: he's never officially been there. All memories I have from my younger years that involve him usually involve crying. Some because he missed my birthday, some because he missed Christmas, or some because he wasn't in my life. I remember my mom telling me at a very young age that my father had a tendency to "get sick" and that I wasn't allowed to see him when it was this way. I never understood and always thought it was because she didn't want to see him herself. I now realize, what a good person she was for doing so and for making sure I didn't inherit the disease. Although, I do get tested and interviewed every year by an alcoholism study group for the University of Iowa. They usually interview me, ask me about my drinking (which is nonexistent), and then put these wires on my head and study my brain. The benefit for me is making almost $200 and then going to spend it at Coralridge. They doubt I'll grow up with the disease and believe me to be a normal, happy, healthy girl. All of which are generally true.
The letter from my dad was a sob story. The speech he gives me all the time when he swears he's done drinking and he's on the right path. It starts out with explaining his "legitimate" excuse on why he started, apologizing for not being in my life, and what actions he will be taking to improve our relationship. blah blah blah blah blah. To say the bare minimum, I'm done with it. And to be completely honest, I could care less if he's in my life or not. I've been through enough in my life with him, that sometimes it's just not worth it. I've lost all respect and trust I've ever had for him. I never thought I'd be able to hate someone I love so much, but it's happened. And I've realized I'm done, I'm moving on, a chapter in my life closed and for good this time so that I can be happy.