Real Life Is Way Stranger Than Fiction!

I have written about having a broken family, and this happened for many reasons, one is that our mother did really bad job of showing and giving affection and then when she remarried a man after my sister and I’s father was killed when I was 3 and my sister was not yet born and that man later on molested my sister and I when we were young teenagers and our mother failed to protect us. I helped our family heal those wounds later on after my sister and I had both moved out of the house and we were young adults because I felt that our being together as a family was more important than allowing the old wounds to rule. It seemed that it worked and we were fairly successful at it and for almost 30 years we got together as a family and celebrated birthdays, and all other special occasions. And to this day I don’t regret letting the things in the past slide because we had a lot of fun family get-togethers, as well as some disastrous ones but those also happen in everyone’s family to some degree. Five years ago, when I was 50, the genetic disability I was born with, the one that my mother chose to ignore and have children sired by a man who had this genetic disease that was fairly disabling (he was my “real” father and he died in a plane wreck when I was 3), decided to do more damage to my body. This was after the initial damage it had done to my body when I was about three years old, and lived with for my whole life.  I needed some monetary help for the first time since I moved away from home at 18 and worked for a living and supported myself all by myself and my mother wouldn’t help me when I asked her. It devastated me emotionally, I couldn’t believe that when for the first time in my whole life I asked for help, my mother who was in the best financial shape in her life (my stepfather and her had approximately $350,000.00 in their checking account and were living on social security and interest income), my mother who “had” to have children with my father who I was told when I told her I wished I had never been born as a child that my father didn’t want to have, obviously he didn’t not want to have them enough to not have “unprotected” sex, and he wasn’t a Catholic! My mother told me they couldn’t loan me the money to keep making the mortgage payments on my house, so I wouldn’t lose it, until I received the Social Security Disability Income I qualified for would begin to come in, because her and my stepfather would “worry” too much that I wouldn’t be able to pay the approximate $10,000 I figured I would need before I got my SSDI payments. They were willing to let me lose the house I worked my whole life to buy because they might someday need that $10,000 dollars I asked to borrow “if” I couldn’t pay it back. I was crushed, I couldn’t believe the woman who had to have a child so bad she was willing to risk having a child with a 50 % chance of having the disease that 50 % of her children got – that would be me – but then when that child “really” needed her she wouldn’t help that child. When I asked her “why” she said “I did a lot for you” and when I asked what that was exactly, since I moved away from home and supported myself from the age of 17, because I wondered what it was that she had “done” for me “exactly” since I had made a point of being independent and not needing anyone’s help for my whole life after I moved out at 17. She said “I bought you a horse (when I was 6), I let you keep pet mice in your bedroom, and I took you to ballet lessons.” I said “I was a kid and I thought that those were the kinds of things that parents were supposed to do for their kids, you call being a mother and doing what a mother is supposed to do for their children was considered ‘doing a lot for me? You also took me to 50 thousand doctor appointments and took me to the hospital for 4 surgeries because you had a handicapped child that you chose to have, were those things also considered doing a lot for me?” She got extremely upset and she asked if I thought she loved me, and I told her that I guess she did as much as she knew how, but that it wasn’t my definition of love. I had a horse because it was one of the few things I could physically do and also she got money every month from my father dying to pay for those kinds of things for my sister and I, hobbies and activities that all parents should expose their children to. I don’t consider doing the things you have to do for a handicapped child as doing any kind of a favor at all but something any mother would do, at least what any kind of a normal mother should do, whether it was a handicap that had a high probability like mine or one that couldn’t be predicted. Within 6 months after my mother let me down and I felt like I lost everything I put into to make our family somewhat “normal” for my whole life, my mother was diagnosed with cancer and she chose to just die rather than fight it. I believe that part of the reason she gave up was she could no longer deal with the guilt she had carried from her lifelong battle with it, from the consequences of choosing to have children with a man who had a disease that was 50 % inherited to her failure to deal with her husband’s molesting her teenage children and the ultimate reality of her choosing him over her children. I remember when I was pretty young my mother told me she didn’t let our stepfather discipline us because he didn’t understand children very well because of the dysfunctional family he grew up in. He did indeed grow up in a dysfunctional family, and this was a part of my decision to look beyond the molestation of my sister and I (he didn’t have sex with us but he touched us inappropriately many times, but I do feel that there are worse things that can happen even if it was wrong because we were already over the age that I feel really affected us in a way that permanently damaged us in our abilities to have meaningful relationships with men as adults) because actually in his own way he was “molested” also and with the family history he had he was lucky to get out “alive”. In no way is this an excuse for his behavior but I believe when he sexually molested my sister and I, as well as his “real” daughter before his stepdaughter’s it was more out of a need for needing to be loved than it was out of a sexual need. My stepfather’s mother was brain damaged and was essentially retarded and we had heard the story when we were fairly young that she would spank my father and his younger brother’s until one day when my father was a teenager and much bigger than his mother and he took the “belt” or whatever the item was she would use to spank the kids and he told her he would spank her if she ever tried it again. I know his father was a ignorant asshole that gave away his dog when he was a kid just because he could and told my father they couldn’t afford to feed it, but they were already dirt poor living in a box car parked off the side of the railroad track, the railroad that his father worked for, in the middle of nowhere (I know because one trip I took my mom and stepfather on to see a play in my car and it was my treat when I was around 30 years old and had a good job my stepfather asked me to take a side road on the way home so he could see where he grew up and I found out it was a “wide spot” on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, which I gave him a hard time about at the time because I was expecting to see a building but I now realize that wide spot on the side of the road was a pretty emotional event for my stepfather. No one should have to grow up like he did. They lived off of poached venison and the dog my stepfather had taken away from him could have easily have lived on the scraps. Possibly his father was trying to teach his son to not become attached to “frivolous” things like a pet, which is almost sadder than not letting his son keep his dog by saying they couldn’t afford to keep it. This is part of the reason I was able to forgive, or at least let go, of my stepfather’s having inappropriately touching us. I feel that he really was touching us more out of a need for human touch than out of a sexual need.) What bothers me the most is my stepfather was very adamant about not helping poor people, but I suspect that a lot of that had to do with the fact that his father never helped any of his children and since no one ever gave my stepfather anything he has a lot of inner anger that I am absolutely sure he has never confronted himself with. He willingly took all of the love and caring I offered him as I became an adult and he regularly would call me on the phone and tell about the things that he was going through when he got older and had health problems. I believe a lot of his health problems were caused by his inability to deal with his emotions, he never learned how to deal with emotions until he married my mother and began to really love her and when I made the decision that forgiveness and love was something that our family needed and started us on that track he became a better person. He was the oldest child in his family, he had a brother who raped and murdered a retarded girl he got pregnant, actually the facts of this story are rather murky. My stepfather’s brother was charges with the murder of a retarded girl when he was 16, he was also retarded and the only facts I have been able to uncover about this incident are that my stepfather’s brother did have sex with the girl that was found murdered but apparently his father also had sex with the same girl, I did say that my stepfather came from a dysfunctional family. My stepfather’s 16 year old brother, he was 15 years younger than my stepfather who had already enlisted in the navy and left home when this incident happened so he only knows what he has been told by his family about what really happened. I was staying at a cabin at the coast with my girlfriend and we were reading the “True Detective” magazines that the owner of the cabin had and we found a story in one of them about my the murder my stepfather’s brother was convicted of. And being the truly small world we live in I eventually found out that mt girlfriend’s father was a juror on that trial and about 15 years later I met the boyfreind of mine’s godfather who was also a juror on that same case. They both said the case always bothered them because there were more suspects than my stepfather’s retarded brother who was found guilty and spent ten years in prison for the crime of 2nd degree murder, from the age of 16 to the age of 26 . I met him after he got out of prison and I have a hard time believing he could have harmed anyone, but I guess the truth has died with the ones that were there.  Both my stepfather’s father and brother are now dead so I doubt the truth will ever be known but I do believe that someone out there probably knows the truth but I guess at this point in time it doesn’t matter, but it seems to me there are a great many terrible things that happen to a great amount of people and I don’t know what is necessarily wrong or right but the things that happen to real people are stranger than any fictional story you could ever make up. I am trying to understand how life can go off the rails as much as it seems like it does.


One thought on “Real Life Is Way Stranger Than Fiction!

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