Daddy, Devil

I want to share the poem which broke my writing dry spell. I wasn’t even planning to write when this poem came to me. The words poured right out. It‘s not my best work, but it’s raw and warrants sharing.

Quick back story, my father and I had a falling out. When my father is unhappy with me, he gives me the silent treatment. At the time I wrote Daddy, Devil he successfully ignored me for a month. It got to me. I felt hurt, upset and more importantly, I felt I was a bad daughter.  As I was putting myself down, I realized I wasn’t bad at all. I’m human and I make mistakes. The latter does not qualify me for abuse.

Daddy, Devil

Sometimes my father is mean.

Sometimes he breaks my heart.

Sometimes he screams.

Sometimes his words rip me apart.

Sometimes our fights haunt my dreams.

Sometimes I wish our time apart will give us a fresh start.

Sometimes his silent treatments are too extreme.

Sometimes his glares have more power than any black art.

Sometimes I think his horridness is only a disease running through his bloodstream.

Sometimes he says he loves me.

I try to resist forgiving him, but there’s nothing like being daddy’s pretty baby.

So I tell myself his bad behavior only happens sometimes, so its okay.

He’s my father after all.

Family.

Who do I have if I don’t have family?

Times are good now.

Times are very good now.

Times are super good now.

Times are almost too good now.

Times are one hundred percent perfect now.

Oh, no.

I made a mistake.

Times are ninety percent perfect now.

Whew.

Oh, no.

I was sassy.

Times are almost no good now.

Oh, no.

I was too slow.

Times are super bad now.

Oh, no.

I made a witty comment.

Times are very, very bad now.

Oh, no.

I had a bad day and was not a good girl.

Times are bad now.

Bad, bad.

Alexandra is bad.

No, wait.

Daddy is bad too.

Sometimes.

Sometimes?

Sometimes.

One too many times.

END

Three weeks later and my father is still giving me the silent treatment. I’m still hurt, but I’m no longer blaming myself. I am working up the courage to start up a conversation with him. It’s time to address the emotional elephant in the room. I know my father won’t like it, but the conversation is long overdue.

Maybe your curiosity has peaked. What the heck happened to cause a fallout? Heres the tea.

My father could not drive due to medical circumstances and asked me to chauffeur him for three errands. I agreed. Before pulling off to go to the final destination, my father got a call. He told me to drive to a store two towns over. I’m familiar with the area so I took the route I think is the fastest which is via highway. As I merged onto the highway he flipped out. “Why are you taking the highway! I said I have to go to Napa first!”

“Don’t worry daddy, I didn’t forget. I’m just taking this way because it’s faster.”

“No stop. I said Napa!” He then told the person he was speaking to that he’ll call back later. My father yelled at me to pull over. I told him my exit was coming up. He yelled again. I cried and asked him to stop yelling because I needed to focus on the road. I promised him I would pull over after we get off the highway. He continued to yell and insult me. The ride was a nightmare, but we made it to Napa.

On the ride back home he told me I’m a horrible driver and insulted me more. Something snapped in me. I called him an asshole. I never cursed at or around him before, heck I never even disrespected him before. The words shocked both of us. He hasn’t spoken or looked at me since that day (roughly two months).

Thank you for reading. I hope you are doing well and wish you nothing but happiness. Remember, no matter what, stay hopeful! 😊