In Honor of Father's Day...

Yet one more angry note...

A shame I have to post angry letters and notifications here in order to let off steam from dealing with your stupid ass. It's a shame too that I write about it instead of telling you to your face. Then again, that's a mixed blessing of sorts.

The reason why I write these things, the way I do, instead of saying all sorts of nasty shit to your face is because I hate the drama that ensues. I hate arguing, I hate fighting, especially in front of the children. Trinity already wails when I raise my voice thanks to that last time you drew me into arguing with your retarded ass when you cussed me out in the parking lot in front of my townhouse. Ever since then she cries and cowers with fear whenever I raise my voice. I despise you for making me show that side, that angry side, to my child and every time I see her reaction it makes me loathe you more.

So to avoid the shouting matches and the stress and strain, I keep calm and quiet in front of you. You never know what I am thinking and I can see your mind is baffled by my pacifist persona. It's so unlike me isn't it? I, the one that would bitch and scream and cuss and cry just to get you to come see your child or to get a measly gallon of milk from you. And now? I don't have the heart for it. Between you and my mother you're both killing me. Blood pressure, stress, headaches, heartaches. No more. God forbid something happens to me, where would the girls go? To my mother to be belittled, antagonized and warped? Or to you, briefly before you willingly hand them over to social services? (And yes, this is a true statement uttered from his lips that should something happen to me he would in fact give my kids away.)

So, instead I sit quietly. I rage inwardly. Have to stop it soon because holding it in is nearly as bad as making an ass of myself screaming obscenities at you. The anger, the bitterness, my God it eats at my soul like a canker. I can remember vividly being like this years ago; after Jaalyn was born and you refused to be a father; after I realized that you considered dropping off a gallon of milk after a year and a half to be "child support"; after my already meager paycheck began being garnished to pay for your debts; after I realized the high deposits and fees I'd have to pay for basic utilities because my name was attached to yours on previous bills and addresses; after I realized what a fool I'd been to ever hope you'd be half the man I thought you'd be, let alone the good father I wanted you to be.

What can I say? What do I do? For so long I've let things slide.

And when I did finally approach you for something, you denied me. Not just me, but our sick baby. You denied her her medication she so desperately needed all because there were things you said you wanted to do. That was the final straw for me. All goals set aside for now to focus on the main one, which would be to no longer be dependant on your help financially. Because really, that’s the only real way you help. Not like you do anything else of importance.

Oh and here’s a little tidbit I’d just love to share with you. All the questions Jaalyn had after our blowout on the phone. Bless her. She wanted to know why, if daddy loves us like he says, why won’t he get the baby her medicine. Mommy, How come you’re the one that always stays with me and Trinity when we’re sick. How come you’re the only one that takes us to the doctor and to school? I knew that she would eventually notice. Some of her questions I answered. Most I could not. I cannot explain to her why you won’t be the father she (or even I) want you to be. I cannot explain what I do not understand.

Burns me up to know that I have to tolerate you even in the most banal ways. Not for long though if I can help it. I’ve had it. I’m beyond tired, beyond disgust, beyond the beyonds with you.

I mean, between you and me, it’s kinda fucked up that I play two roles to our girls; both mom and dad. It’s sad that I end up trying to compensate for your foolishness by doing special things for the kids. Not that I wouldn’t do them ordinarily, but sometimes when money is low, tears are falling because once again daddy didn’t do what he said he would, I dig a little deeper in the pocketbook and I do my best to make the girls happy. Sometimes I feel like I’m overcompensating and that too makes me angry. Just that I’m put in a position to ever feel like I’m overcompensating for the want of a decent damned daddy.

My own fault really. You barely did for one child, what made me think having another would make you act right? Doesn’t really matter though… just like I tell the girls all the time:

Mama’ll make it better.