A little backstory and a poem

I thought it might be useful to give a little back story so you can understand why I ended up here. 

My mother was married 5 times before she met my Dad and had two preteens (my sister and brother, my only blood siblings).  They married and attempted to have children for several years.  My mother kept miscarrying. 

According to my sister Mom was sober during this period "for the first time in her life".  My Dad adored her.  She got pregnant!  Carried the baby to term!  And he died 2 weeks later. 

She was crushed, fell off the wagon, and began drinking heavily from that time to the time of her death, when she was found with a 2 liter bottle of vodka on her nightstand in a no-tell motel. 

They decided to "try" again, it took about a year and a half but pregnant with me, drinking heavily every day (facepalm).  Dad "I didn't know she was drinking hard liquor".  I did not remind him that any liquor is bad for a fetus.  She had to be induced, Dad said watching my birth was one of the top experiences of his life. 

I was a girl - not a boy - so obligations were off to a large extent to "measure up" to my poor dead sibling.  I was very slow on hitting milestones and was labeled "borderline" development, a little more and I would have been full blown "retarded".  My mother couldn't handle this, left for a while and came back.  Still drinking heavily and cycling with bipolar.  Like me, she was a type one. 

Unlike me she did not have the psychotic features - I got that from her mother who was a full blown schizophrenic.  Or maybe someone on my Dad's side. 

Various stories on what happened next but all agree on one thing: severe neglect of me.  My Dad got me in daycare starting age 2, full time, so I had least had the basics. 

CPS got involved.  My understanding she had to surrender custody or face charges.  My Dad traveled a lot for work, he had to take a desk job.  He wasn't happy about that.  But he was my primary caregiver and I felt we were very close, I ADORED him, loved to see him come pick me up every day.  I have some good memories, quality time which is my love language. 

He met a woman in bad straits, who had 3 kids.  He married her and moved the kids in.  The older 2 kids were OK, I admit I could be a pest but they tolerated it pretty well.  The youngest became quite abusive when he hit puberty and I still have scars on my body. 

I have gone over the whole stepmother favoring her kids dynamic.  The verbal and occasional physical abuse as my Dad went back to his travelling job, and then a mega-time management job that meant I never saw him. 

Now he says he wishes he had spent more time with me.   But I'm only a kid/teen once and that is past.  He was "better" about spending time with one grandson in particular and they are pretty close from my understanding.  I tried to talk to him but he is a lot like I am with Ron, won't hear a word against her.  Ever. 

I met Ron; I've talked about how both parents threw me at him because they didn't want me getting suicidal again.  They saw Ron as a free antidepressant rather than looking at the root cause of my depression.  Dad eventually realized I was falling for Ron but by then it was too late.  And when my stepmother found out Ron was fixed she wouldn't hear a word against him, he was the man for me, told me again and again. 

And I had told her about the past history with alcohol, drug use (pot), blackouts, employment troubles, violence, cheating, etc.  Nope, it didn't matter, that was the past and Ron was the man for me.

She would of course tell a different story of me sneaking around and her utterly oblivious to it until she came home from Bible Study and I had moved out. 

She helped me load the cab.  She knew everything, I couldn't have done it easily without her.  I have told my Dad this and he still doesn't believe it. 

I moved out, I didn't want any contact for a while.  Ron was actually quite persistent and got me meeting Dad for lunch again. 

I should add at this point, while I still lived with him Dad bailed out my stepsister to the tune of thousands of dollars.  Credit card debt.  He also paid for most of her college, and my step brothers (not the abuser). 

I have had very bad experiences at the dentist, peaking with 4 extractions at one time when I was 12 "for braces".  It was a horrific experience and it was considered an "easy" job.  My wisdom teeth were becoming very painful. 

I went on Medicaid and met an oral surgeon, who said it would be a difficult job getting them out, they would have to split the bone and drill the teeth in half.  I was totally freaked out. 

But, she added, for $150 they could knock me out - well, put me far under.  "Twilight" they call it, where they don't have to put a vent but heavy duty pain meds and me totally out of it.  It sounded great. 

But I qualified for Medicaid because I only made about $80 a week.  Ron had just started a job and wouldn't be paid for weeks.  Also, I would need a ride home after the surgery. 

Ron was able to fix the ride, he had a friend who owned a car company.  Ron explained I could not go home in a cab, Chris said don't worry about it, and showed up in a Mercedes.  For my Medicaid appointment.  Chris was very nice and got my medication and me situated at home. 

But I still had to come up with $150.  Now, to my understanding Dad had paid out $10K to bail my stepsister out of trouble.  So $150 is nothing, that's a steak dinner. 

I went to my Dad asking for the money, for my health.  And he said "I will make you a loan".  Made me sign a form and pay him back. 

He would also not give me cash, he gave me a check made out to the oral surgeon.  Remember I have never asked him for money at this point, not even when I was a kid, if I wanted money I had to earn it doing chores.  But I got my teeth done. 

I made two, $50 payments (brutalized my budget), the third one was "due" around Christmas.  Dad told me to keep it, that was my present.  Wow. 

And then he held it over me for years "I helped you get your teeth fixed, I didn't have to do that". 

I tried to tell him his wife had helped me leave, he doesn't believe it to this day.  I told him she and her kids abused me, he refused to believe it.  Finally she told him "One of the kids admitted to abusing Heather but she didn't know about it" and she wouldn't tell him the kids' name.  She used to REWARD one kid for going in my room without permission and beating me up.  She knew ALL about it.  There was also a lot of sick stuff re: my schoolwork that made it look like I wasn't trying.  When I was allowed to keep all my stuff at school I got straight A's. 

She also sent me a generic apology letter "We all hurt each other" HOW?  How did I hurt her as a child asking for a f$cking glass of milk or asking her to LOVE me? 

This went on for years... I had very little contact with my Dad.  I wrote a poem about it "They abused me/they have used me//to play sick and sicker games  More to it than that. 

You want me to embrace the ones
Who have caused me so much pain
You're denied it ever happened
I don't want to play your game. 

I didn't want your 'pologies
Because I got depressed. 
I wanted you to face the truth
In all its ugliness. 

"It's true!" "It's true!"  I screamed out loud
Goddamn I was abused.
But you've just turned, and walked away
Or acted so confused. 

You have never faced my anger
You've discounted all my pain. 
You have claimed it never happened
I have talked to you, in vain. 

Now you preach to me: forgiveness
Though they never did confess. 
You want your happy family game
You nag me, without rest. 

Can't you see, you ostrich man,
I won't deny the truth?
Your "family" is a fantasy,
The lies are absolute. 

If you were not my father, Dad,
I'd tell you where to go!
Reconciliation is a dream
You have to know. 

They abused me!  They have used me!
To play sick and sicker games! 
I never was a Heather, Dad,
"Meal ticket" was my name. 

I was her toy for 13 years
At least I'm finally free. 
I won't go near her games again
You're forcing lies on me. 

You want me to embrace the ones
Who nearly crushed my mind. 
Dad, you're living in a happy dream,
But it is just a lie. 

I'll never lie, for you, or me. 
You'll never see the truth. 
The lies were then, and this is now.
I will not prostitute. 

Copyright Heather Davis 2001.

Clearly this came from a place of very real pain.  But I had to deal with this for several years. 

With my Dad.  I stopped calling.  Two times he called me.  One I had not called him for 6 months.  The second he was in the hospital.  I went to visit him. 

He was like a dog with a bone refusing to let it up I had to be the good daughter who loved her family.  I kept saying they are abusers, all of them, and toxic.  Stop lying, Heather. 

I moved to Texas without telling him, he found out from my grandmother.  I went about another year.  I found out I had fetal alcohol. 

I was reading an article on how hard it was to parent a child with FAS and I felt sorry for them, and was able to forgive them.  I sent an email saying I forgave them, and I did.  BUT I DON'T TRUST. Any of them.  I consider my primary abuser high risk and expect to see him on TV one day.

So I call and play the game, as Ron would say.  I act like everything was great growing up.  I act like they never hurt me.  I act like all of us kids are equal to them, that I am as valued as the "steps".  Who all got a free ride, fine colleges, cars, insurance, etc. all paid by my Dad. 

I act like when I mentioned college textbooks had taken a big bite out of my money Dad didn't say that was mine and Ron's problem, not his.  Even though he bought textbooks for the other kids when they were "shacking up". 

And the true irony is my primary abuser always accused Dad of favoring ME.  He is backwards, you're supposed to favor the ones with your DNA. 

So I have VERY low expectations of my Dad.  Very low.  Think about it, 365 days in a year, when he comes out he spends two and a half with me.  Actually, half Sunday, half Monday, half Tuesday.  So one and a half.  Out of a year. 

He hates cats and forced my stepmother to declaw hers.  He won't come in my house he hates cats that much.  He won't "let" her have a cat. 

[censored] that... no way am I letting a man in my life who hates cats.  Never.  I want the guy bringing home dumpster kittens and bottle feeding them in the middle of the night.  I don't care if he's 300#, five foot four, and a face like a pig... as long as he has a good heart. 

Anyway, and who can forget the time I told my Dad Ron had been physically abusing me.  "Don't make us choose between you, Heather, you won't like the answer.  We love Ron too".  WTF HE IS BEATING ME!!!And he said that.  Who says that to a DV victim? 

There was a really good time to say, "We're getting you out of there, Heather.  We will set you up with an apartment and pay utilities for a few months, get you some groceries, and get you safe".  I would have gone.  My aunt made that offer but I honestly felt my Dad should have - he has more money. 

Instead he pays my abuser's legal bills because he is haggling custody with his Baby Mama. 

And he had my stepmother are certified chaplains to counsel people in their time of need.  I almost gagged. 

About the only thing I agree he said Ron has to hit rock bottom before he will change.  That, I feel, is correct. 

So, VERY low expectations