As a teenager, I found avoidance a workable solution for surviving. Once I was the ‘last man standing’ as it were, I did everything possible to steer clear. Without having my brothers around to deflect the focus, I was the primary target of my stepfather’s wrath. And as I said previously, nothing of any sort happened that was physical or sexual, but there was plenty of mental and emotional abuse to go around. When I wasn’t required to be home, I wasn’t. Being at home to partake in breakfast and dinner was non-negotiable, along with sleeping in my own bed at night; aside from that, I was ‘outta there’! When school was in session, it was easy to find things to do. School provided a respite from home (apart from the bullying I endured in my junior year) and it often gave me valid reasons to stay out late into the evening.
During my high school career, cross country and track swallowed up fall and spring. School dances weren’t mandatory but I went to every single one (unless an invite was required). I even went to dances at schools in other districts (as well as Mormon churches). Outside of school, I worked an assortment of jobs. My first job was as a babysitter but I was lousy at it. Most of the time, I would park myself in front of the TV and completely ignore the youngsters I was hired to look after. I was paid 50 cents per child/per hour, and if the parents wanted me to stay the night, they often stiffed me on payment. I never held a job very long. If I had even the slightest disagreement with a supervisor, I would give my notice and head for the nearest exit. The upside to all of this is that I learned how to perform a variety of tasks and developed a significant amount of skills.
Once I turned 15, a whole new world of possibilities opened up to me in the form of nightclubs. It was the early 80s and getting out and ‘shaking your groove thing’ was in. Because I resided in a big city, I had my pick of places to go. I could hop on the freeway and head north to Buzzy’s if I wanted to dance to a variety of top-40 hits. If the evening called for a sumptuous selection of R&B and hip-hop, Club Broadway offered it up in spades. There was Skoochies and Stallions and a whole host of other venues, including Black Angus. Sometimes I would stay out until the sun came up. One day, I very clearly recall arriving home after sunrise and trying to tiptoe past where my mom and stepfather were seated in the kitchen (eating breakfast). I was caught red-handed. Initially, nothing was said. I scuttled down the stairs, found my way to bed, and slept soundly until the late afternoon. It was after I woke up and ascended the stairs that I learned of the consequences for my actions. My stepfather insisted that I should be taught a lesson, my mom relented, and I was summarily grounded.
Fortunately, the grounding didn’t last long. It stuck for two days until my mom decided I’d been punished enough for my errant ways; whereby, I continued on in the same vein. That’s how things essentially went until I left home for good. The day I left for MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station) was another day I very clearly recall. I know my mom meant well, but even today I feel a twinge of anger whenever I think about it. What exactly happened that left such lasting negative emotions? My mom insisted that I hug my stepfather goodbye. Huh? Seriously? I had almost made a clean getaway and crossed the threshold at the front door when she summoned my stepfather and asked this of me. Over the past five years, we hadn’t communicated, let alone embraced, and now I was supposed to give him a f-ing hug? What the hell was that all about?!
I have to tell you, if someone had taken a photo of us at that very moment, it most certainly would have wound up in an edition of ‘Awkward Family Photos’. There are no photos, however; just ever-so-slowly fading memories. So many memories! I truly wish they hadn’t been mostly negative. I’ve racked my brain trying to remember moments in time involving my stepfather that were good or pleasant, and there are a few but not many. Before we stopped communicating altogether, I experienced a handful of happy ones. On a rare occasion, we’d listen to murder mysteries together on the radio (which are much like podcasts today). There were also walks along the beach, countless games of Chinese Checkers, and on one particular Christmas, he gave me a dollhouse he’d built from scratch. At the end of the day, I know he tried but if I had to assign him a grade for his efforts, he’d be lucky to get a D.
And after spending so much time lamenting our relationship, I know I need to move on. I imagine you would appreciate it if I did as well. I did dream about my stepfather a few nights ago and it brought me some much-needed peace. In my dream, we are in a rectangular room with a door and a large picture window. There are two upholstered chairs facing the window which are spaced at least 6-10 feet apart. I am seated in one and he in the other. In my dream, I take the time to relay all the hurt he caused and how it affected my life. There are long pauses in between and it’s clear he’s uncomfortable with having to listen to all of my grievances. He continually squirms in his chair and/or stands up periodically to gaze out the window but he remains in the room until I’ve gotten everything I needed to say out of my system. When it’s all said and done, the anger has left my body and I’m overcome with peace. I guess I just needed to feel heard.
My soul has felt lighter ever since, as if a great weight has been lifted. I didn’t have the courage to face my stepfather when he was alive, but having the ability to do so in a dream appears to be the next best thing. If you find yourself hanging onto pain as I have done for far too long, I wish for you an opportunity to move past it and for joy to replace it. This life is short and time is fleeting. Much love and light to you, my friends.
My entire family is insane. 