Monthly Archives: October 2012

Drunken Text Messages Part II

Over the course of three days, my father had sent me a total of 56 text messages.  I did no respond to one of them.  As I said before, I did not want to fuel his fire even more.  After the three days, the text  messages stopped and I thought it was over.   Boy, was I wrong!

The first I had heard from my father, he said I had some junk mail, he wanted to know if he should send it over or if he could rip it up.  I still did not respond.

A week later, he said “your girl has some mail over here” he said he would try to remember to send it within the next two days.  I did not respond, yet we were unpleasantly unsurprised that my father had written “THANK GOD SHE DOES NOT LIVE HERE ANYMORE” on the envelope he sent back in the mail.

He wanted us to drop the keys to the house off to him,  the text message read “You have no reason, to come around my house anymore.  You and the girl.  I have tried to talk to you but you don’t respond.  So just drop the keys in the mailbox at your pleasure”.   However, we did not want to go over there by any means, so we just threw the key away.  I figured he was afraid we would do something to him or the house, but I did not have any such intentions of doing so, so I just kept ignoring what he sent to me.

My father went back and forth with the “compliments” offering what he called his “fatherly advice” and then turned right back around to cut me down.  He tried and tried to say the worst things to be from calling me names like “Sissy Boy” and other words and telling me to be my own man by “telling the girl to do the laundry, and cooking and washing the dishes!”.

He made it pretty clear that he thought the plan I had for my life was a big waste.  He also made it pretty clear that he did not like my girlfriend and was adament that she is bringing me down.  I still did not respond.

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Drunken Text Messages

I did not start to read my father’s drunken text messages until I woke up the next morning to find more, and more were coming as I was looking at my phone.  He only sent five over the course of the night when I slept and when I woke up, I received 24 more text messages.  So, I decided to start reading to see what he had to say.  Naturally, the texts were jumbled with misspelt words, but I could still figure out what he was saying.

The text messages started out civil.  My father told me that he wished us the best and that I did a good job exiting the house.     After a few hours he started to talk about how I “s**t on him and chose ‘the girl'”.  The Girl, “let’s just call her that for now”, he said.

He told me I did him wrong and I have “disappointed him beyond belief”.  However, he changed his tone a half hour after he said that.  He told me that I was the “most respectful of all”.  This was probably because he started focusing on my girlfriend again.  He told me “Forget the girl, I saw you doing the laundry, doing cooking, doing everything. Trust me guy, you are working up a slippery slope.  Dump her ass!”

Is it wrong of me to help my girlfriend carry a heavy laundry basket down the stairs, is it wrong of me to help my girlfriend out with all the chores around the house?

“Save yourself from regret.  Save your good part from her”.  How did he become so angry at someone who cooked for him, cleaned his house and was nothing but nice to him the whole time she lived there?

After a while, the texts just started to blur together and become one insult after the other or a “smart” one-liner that he probably thought was clever.  It was like he was typing out this thoughts in the form of a text message.


A Sigh of Relief

It felt good to not have to smell a smog of cigarette smoke throughout the house, it felt good to be able to sleep without thinking someone was going to burn the house down in the middle of the night and it felt good not to hear the crack of a fresh beer every five minutes or the clinking of ice in a glass.  The best part of all, was that I was not afraid to walk around the house and I was not afraid of being stared down with every move I made and criticized for everything I did.

While I felt sad that in a way, my father was gone, I still felt a sense of relief and that a huge weight was taken off my shoulders as there was a lot less worry in my mind.  However, the wrath of my father was not over as he made sure he would get in his last word.

Starting late the night we moved (after we had gone to bed) the drunken text messaging began.  As I have said before, my father takes texting to a whole other level.  My father sent me texts starting around 5:00 PM and they did not stop until around 11:30 pm that night (25 text messages).  I did not respond because I did not want to fuel his fire, I figured all of the messages were going to be filled with hate.  Plus, I feel that I have already said my peace with him whether he remembers it or not.

 


Moving Day

A few days later, my girlfriend and I went back to the house to gather our things and load up our truck with what we could for the next two days.  My father was in the living room watching TV on the first day.  It was a little awkward because my father had just started drinking for the day, so he was relatively sober.  We had to take a few trips to the car and back through the house.  My father did not say a word to us.

When the car was packed to the brim, and as we were closing the trunk, my aunt walked up the driveway and asked us where we were going.  “He kicked us out”, I replied.

“What?” she said

“He kicked us out,” I repeated.

“Where are you going to go?”

“We don’t know”.  I did know where we were going, but I did not want my father to know.  I did not feel he had the right, plus my father has threatened people with violence before (somethings I did not want to include in this blog) and I did not want him to start anything with me or my girlfriend.

The next day, my father was not home.  We took advantage of this time and gathered as much of our belongings as we could.

Finally, it was the final moving day.  My girlfriend and I and a friend, rented a moving truck and headed over to my fathers where we were to pick up our couch, bed, and other large furniture so we could finally leave this place for good.  My father was on the couch, and was very pleasant to my friend whom he knew.  Not to mention, he was really drunk.

I’m assuming he did not want my friend to see him for who he really was because my father retired to his bedroom.  I’m also assuming he was turning in for the day as it seemed like he was drunk enough to have drank all night long (plus, there was an empty case of beer thrown on the counter, which proved my assumption).  So, we loaded up the truck swiftly, and left.


The Aftermath

It is now after 2 a.m.  My girlfriend and I had to be up in about five hours to be able to get ready and go to the wedding on time.  Subtract an hour from that and that is the time we woke up to pack our car with all the essentials we would need for a few days to hold us over until we could move the rest of our things out of the house.   With the car packed, and the dog in the backseat, we took our dog to my girlfriend’s mom’s house and left for the wedding.  We had to push the fiasco that we had been through to the back of our minds until the wedding was over.

This was quite a task for us to do because the looming sense that we did not have a place to go was hung over our heads all day.  I finally decided to call my brother, who told us we could come stay with him.  Thank God!  At least we had a place to go.  Now to deal with the rest of the wedding’s festivities.

At the end of the night, my girlfriend and I ended up crashing on my brother’s couch until the next morning, where we would figure out what to do next.  I was not mad at my father, as I had said my peace and found out how he felt (whether in a drunken stupor or not, I feel that some of the horrible things he had said the night before were somewhat true.  Especially since I have heard him say those things sober before).

All I knew is that my father will not quit drinking.  I can only hope that one day he manages to find his way to sobriety.


One Rainy Night Part V

After he shrugged off my pleas for him to get help I started to get angry at the fact that he was not listening to me.  I asked him why he did not take this seriously and he said that he was trying to quit drinking.  So, I reminded him about how he thought he was dying just a few weeks ago and after being in the hospital for a few days he asked me if I could stop at the store so he could get some beer.  “That’s not trying!”  I told him.

He interrupted me and said he was not in the hospital for a few days, he claimed he was there for over a week.  That right there proved to me that his condition was worse than I thought it was to begin with because it was apparent he did not have any reference of time.

I brought up a few other things I thought my father should consider like the fact that he blames all of his misery on everyone else and that I will not tolerate him talking badly about me, my girlfriend or my dog anymore.  I told him that as long as he is drinking, I can not be around him.  I told him that he needs to make a choice between his family and alcohol.

“Well, I’m not gonna quit drinking.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”


One Rainy Night Part IV

I know that you should never try to talk to an alcoholic when they are drunk.  I know they will deflect their problems on you or onto other people so they can continue to drink, guilt free.  I know he wasn’t thinking clearly and that he wasn’t listening to me, however, that night, I felt that I had to tell my father how I felt.  I had to make my last attempt to try and make him see that his drinking has caused problems in our family.

Back to the story, my father started to talk badly about my girlfriend, or “the girl” as he called her.  He said that she was not good for me, that she lives in some kind of “bizzaro world”  and is taking me down with her.  On a change of subject, he continued to tell me that I am different because of her, that I am less of a man, that she is no good for me, she is using me and she will never be happy with anything I could give her.  (Honestly, would any girl still be with me after all we had been through?  Any other girl would probably leave me after living in that house for as long as we did).

Naturally, I stuck up for my girlfriend, but I also told him that regardless of what he thought, the point of this little “chat” of ours is about how badly he needed help.  He just shrugged it off and said “OK, that’s your opinion”.


One Rainy Night Part III

After about a half hour, my father got off the phone with my aunt.  My girlfriend was painting her nails for the wedding that we were standing up in the next day.  It was getting close to midnight and we needed to get some sleep.  However, my father was standing at the bottom of the stairs and said “We need to talk”.

So, I went to the top of the stairs and he said “you and your b***h girlfriend and your f***ing dog need to get the f*** out of my house” and walked back to the living room.  I followed.

My father repeated his threat and said “I don’t know what you are going to do, but you and “the girl” (the new derogatory way he referred to my girlfriend as) need to get out of my house as soon as possible”.  I told him that is fine by me, but I had to say my peace.  I did not  try to argue with my father, but I made my last attempt to get through to him.  I told him that his drinking has had a huge impact on all the relationships he had with everyone in our family.  From my brother to my mom to me.  To his sisters and brothers.  Everyone knew he was an alcoholic and did not want to see him this way.

Of course, pointing fingers at my father when he was already drunk made him want to point fingers at me.  My father decided to play the “there is nothing wrong with me” card and turned the tables over onto my girlfriend.


One Rainy Night Part II

I followed my girlfriend and my dog upstairs and once we sat down in our office to check emails we head my father throw a giant and very loud temper tantrum.  Of course he was drunk.  He was shouting obscenities such as “F*** dogs”, “Dogs ruin my life”, “F*** this, F*** that”.  And that continued for about five minutes until we heard him retelling the story to my aunt on the phone.

According to my father, it was not raining that hard.  In fact, he said he went outside after we went upstairs, looked up to the sky and held his hands out and it was barely a sprinkle (yeah, by that time!).  He told my aunt that we were just using our dog as a scapegoat for all our problems.

Then he started to talk about my girlfriend, again.  He said my girlfriend had a snide tone when she called our dog upstairs and he was sick of her walking around with her smug attitude (then mocked her).  He mentioned that she treats him like a dog by leaving food on the counter for him to get himself instead of serving him and he also said “along with all the other things she does that I have told you about”.

He also said he wanted me to come downstairs and hit him so he could call the police to throw me in jail, “right where I belong” (I have never had so much as a speeding ticket, by the way).  There was also talk about how this situation will not work out because he was a stranger in his own home.

Finally, I heard him tell my aunt that having a family did nothing for him.  Getting married, did nothing for him.  Having kids, did nothing for him and he regrets it all.