Discover Mare Martell

01/02 :  Angry Bursts of Rage

   Hate is such a strong and ugly word. It represents so much to me in the sense that I avoid it like the plague. The thought that I am human and capable of such a viciously cutting word disappoints my sensibilities. I'd like to say that I don't hate. I'd like to say that what I feel and think are emotions of pure virtue. However, if I claimed that, I'd be a thief and a liar. A thief because I'd steal your trust then slap you in the face with it. Then I'd lie and tell you I didn't do it. How would you know the difference?

The issue I have right now has been going on for years and years. I think it started the day I was born. Anyone who has lost a family member, particularly a parent, can understand the longing for them. I think anyone can understand that no matter how bad or cruel that person could be, inside, they just had to be a good person, right? I believed that my love could change things. I believed that if I loved and wished enough, I would win his heart. What a naive child I was.

For years I'd try desperately to convince myself and him that I was worthy of being loved. I sure as hell didn't realize that I was fighting a losing battle. I didn't understand that I was trying to win a non-existent love. I could have saved myself a lot of pain, heartache, anger, and hurt if I had paid attention. But as a child, it is not easy to read adults. Permissiveness means that they love you enough to let you do what you want to do. Money means that they send their love with each penny. Sneaking secret visits with special secrets you can't tell anyone means that they love you the most. Right?

I grew up with only limited contact with my father. He'd sweep into my life, shower me with trips, gifts, and promises. I'd believe them every time. I wanted to believe that he wanted to be my father, my daddy, my mentor, my guide. I needed to believe that. I craved the attention of my father like a drug. Inside I knew it was bad for me, but I couldn't walk away from him just as an addict couldn't give up heroin. It seemed impossible.

I ran to him when I was a teen. I begged to be a part of his life, but his indifference didn't seem to fit what I'd hoped would happen. I hoped that open arms with tears and hugs would be my greeting. Instead I got asked if I wanted to get high. When I said I didn't do that, I was asked if I wanted a beer. I was just shy of 18 at the time. Then he drove me to his friend's house. I couldn't even live with him and his family. I was sequestered away like a dirty secret. After a month, I was over that. I couldn't be alone. The guy that I lived with was one of the sweetest, kindest men. He never acted inappropriately to me. He was compassionate and sweet. He was what I'd hoped to get from my own flesh, but no. A stranger loved me more.

Years later I again attempted contact. We talked for hours on the phone. It was weird hearing some of the things that I used for self destructive purposes come out of his mouth. To me it sounded like a connection. It sounded like he understood where I was coming from, my standpoint. That little girl inside of me was so sure that this was it. She wanted his love and approval more than anything. I did too, I suppose. I wanted him to be real.

About 16 years ago or so, I felt secure in the knowledge that my mother and my father loved me. I was sure of it. My world flipped upside down when everything I thought I had was gone. I struggled to hang onto my illusion, but reality was far too harsh. I felt abandoned and deserted. Honestly, I think I did that part of it. I isolated myself in the pain like a freezing blanket. I wanted to experience it fully. Oh boy, did I.

Four years later, I again tried to reconnect. This time I was allowed to stay in his family home, but not for long. His, now dead, wife dumped me on the side of the road in Nashville. She then went back and told him I never wanted to see him again. That was not true or accurate at all. My anger was towards her, not him. When he found out that I was telling the truth, his anger was towards her too. We fought to stay connected. I felt like an odd version of Romeo and Juliet. Pulled apart by the tides of jealousy or some shit like that.

When he asked me to move closer to him five years ago because of his health, I didn't think too much about it. I agreed. Totally, I lived with him for about two years. During that two years I witnessed more of him than I'd ever thought possible. I became wary of his intentions when I saw how Matthew was treated by him. I was laughed at when I asked if he'd ever molested me then it was confirmed. I was baffled and put up a wall to protect myself from him. Then his new girlfriend started pushing her nonsense towards me and I couldn't bear it any longer. My husband and I moved out.

Now, as I sit here seething with barely restrained anger towards him, I realize just how similar Matthew and I are. We both want to believe that somewhere under that pirate without a ship is the father we dream of him being. We both wish that he'd wrap us into a hug that was filled with teary eyed emotion. We both long for his approval and understanding. We both wish for him to accept us as we are. We are fools in this way.

I believe I am beyond that naivety now. After learning that my father was willing to break a court order to take Matthew away from me under the guise of birthday, I no longer feel empathy for him. I know that if he ever did it, I'd press kidnapping charges against him and not relent. He needs to understand that the rules and the laws apply to him. He doesn't believe that, but they do. I don't WANT to press charges, but I will.

I need to keep Matthew the priority. I need to protect him even if he doesn't realize my reasons right now. Years from now, I hope, he will. He has been neglected and abused for far too long by my father and his crazy ass girlfriend. I will not allow him to go along without any consequences. I know he's all bark and no bite. I've stood up to him before about issues that shouldn't have even needed to be addressed. I've called him on the carpet for doing stupid ass shit like giving Matt alcohol at night to put him to sleep. His behavior is inexcusable. There needs to be retribution for Matthew.

The Universe will take care of that part. I just have to wait and defend when necessary. Unfortunately, it's against the man that for nearly all of my life I'd hoped to win the affections and admiration of his heart. I realize now that it was a fool's errand. I was sent on a wild goose chase. I freely ignored people who loved me in favor of my drug of choice, my father. The ultimate love of a man who will never choose to know me, cherish me, or love me will not be accessible, ever. I know that now. I'm okay with that. In my quest for salvation from my false idol, I hurt and repelled a man who did everything a father should do. I rejected his love in hopes of a promise that would never come true. Shame on me for not seeing this when I was younger.