I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 32

Another time there was to be a family portrait in which mother arranged for me and Mike and Danice to get together with her and Bill and Wayne. At the last minute she didn’t feel good so the session was cancelled. I was under the impression at the time that she was going to arrange another time for all of us to get together for a family photo.

Instead, several weeks later, I received a photo of her with Bill and Wayne. When I asked her about the fact that she didn’t try to arrange for the rest of us to be there, she said it was “too much trouble” to try to get us all together a second time.

I don’t think she has any idea how that made me feel. I don’t know what Mike and Danice thought, but I know I felt like even though I’m her daughter, I didn’t matter enough for her to try to arrange for me to be part of a “family” photo. I don’t put that photo on display either. It reminds me that it was “too much trouble” to try to get us all together a second time.

There was another incident involving Grandma Mary that happened when I was in my teens, if I remember correctly. Grandma had written to me and offered me a table, which, if memory serves, had once belonged to Grandma Jensen. A day or two after I received the letter, mother was talking to her on the phone and Grandma Mary offered her the same table. I happened to overhear her. I got her attention and told her that I thought I had been offered the same table. She mentioned it to Grandma Mary and learned that she had indeed offered me the same table, but forgotten that she had done so. When I said that I hadn’t had a chance to write her back to tell her that I wanted that table, mother in essence told me, “Tough! She wanted the table and she was going to keep it.”

It didn’t matter that I had been offered the table first and in writing and therefore, technically had the right of first acceptance or refusal. She didn’t care that I wanted the table. All she cared about was herself.

Mother also stole some money from me. Before I went to see my Father for the first time, I gave her a check. It was made out to her and she was to use the money to buy some fabric, which would be on sale while I was gone. During that time, she made a mistake balancing her checkbook and found herself in danger of bouncing a check or two. She took my money and used it to cover her mistake. When I confronted her about it, she told me she couldn’t call me, as I didn’t leave a phone number for her. So what was she supposed to do? Bounce a check and pay the fees? I told her it was her mistake and therefore her problem and that by taking my money like she had, she’d made it my problem.

I don’t remember ever receiving an apology, although she did buy the fabric, at full price. The only good thing I can say about this is that she pulled a similar stunt on Wayne. She’s lucky neither of us pressed charges on her for stealing.

As my 33^rd birthday approached, mother asked me for a list of things I wanted for my birthday. When I opened my present from her, it had nothing to do with what I had put on my list. If I remember correctly I had asked for a few music cassette tapes I really wanted. Instead she gave me a sheet of Looney tunes cartoon stamps and a pair of silver beaded earrings, which she had made. When I asked her why, she said she’d decided to do what she wanted to do. It made me wonder why she bothered getting a list from me.

Although I enjoy watching Looney tunes cartoons, I had no desire to collect anything to do with Looney tunes. As for the earrings, yes they were nice they just weren’t anything I wanted. I never used the stamps because they were collector’s items. I sold them for a profit at a yard sale. As for the earrings, I eventually gave them to a cross-dressing friend of mine who fell in love with them the instant he saw them.

There have been a couple of years when I told her I didn’t want my birthday acknowledged in any way, yet she persisted in doing something for me anyway. Because she wanted to do something for me on my birthday. One year I even told her the only way I would allow her to have a party for me was if she could guarantee a particular person’s presence. I knew she couldn’t do that, but it didn’t stop her from doing what she wanted anyway.

Then there was my 38^th birthday. Mother offered to take me to one of my favorite restaurants for dessert. She was supposed to pick up Caleb and me at 2:00 p.m. on my birthday. I was in the garage helping David with something when I heard her car, a VW Beetle. I walked out to go upstairs and wash my hands just in time to watch her drive up the hill past our house. I knew she had to be going to the hardware store up the street, but I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she got lost in thought and missed the turn. I told David that if she wasn’t back within five minutes, I wouldn’t go with her. Approximately 15 minutes later she came up the drive. When I asked her where she’d gone, she told me I’d see. I told her I wasn’t going with her.

She got upset with me and said she was only five minutes late until I informed her that she was more than five minutes late. Then she handed me my birthday card with a lump in it saying that when I looked inside, I’d understand why she did it. I opened it and glanced at her idea of a gift. I thanked her and said it was cute. However, I don’t understand why she thinks giving a gift is more important than keeping her commitment to be where she says she will on time. Then to make matter worse, she excused herself by saying she wasn’t perfect. That seems to be one of her favorite excuses for her behavior even though I have never asked her to be perfect.

All I was asking her to do was keep her commitment to me or accept responsibility for her failure to do so. If she had stopped and said that she wanted to run up to the hardware store for a quick minute, I would have said ok. But to watch her drive by without so much as a “by your leave” was too much. Then to really top things off, she reminded me I had a lid for a bin I had given her. When I went in to get it for her, she followed me and proceeded to sit down and make an unwelcome guest of herself for the next hour and a half or so. The only reason I didn’t throw her out was I didn’t want to make a scene in front of Caleb. After all, he doesn’t know her the way I do and he adores his grandma. Sometimes I wish I could disown her completely. My life would be easier.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 31

I started breaking out with acne at an early age. Unfortunately she would pinch the pimples, even when they hurt. I finally learned to do it myself to keep her from doing it. I realize now that was abusive on her part.

When I was about 15 she had me make a special trip downtown to look at a dress that was on sale. It was white with small blue and red flowers and a ruffle on the bottom that had larger versions of the flowers printed on it. I loved the dress, so she bought it for me. When we got home, she asked me if she could try it on. I said “no” and put it away.

When I left the room, she stayed instead of following me out. I went back to my room a few minutes later. I was puzzled to see the door was closed because I remembered leaving it open. As I opened the door, she shut it in my face, but not before I had seen her wearing my dress. I never felt like the dress was “mine” after that. Somewhere in my photo album I have pictures of each of us wearing the dress. I remember looking at the one of her and asking myself, “Why on earth did I allow mother to have her picture taken in my dress?”

Then I remembered that not only had I allowed her to have her picture taken in that dress, I had insisted on it. That’s when I realized why I had insisted she have her picture taken in my dress. It wasn’t really my dress.

There was also my favorite cream-colored blouse that mother borrowed without my permission. Wore it, washed it and wore it again. By the time I went looking for it, it was in her dirty clothes hamper for the second time. If I had done something similar to her, she would have read me the riot act over it. I don’t think she ever apologized to me for this. In fact, she asked me once if I was ever going to let her live that down. Maybe if she apologizes for borrowing the blouse without my knowledge, much less my permission. I suspect it’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens, though.

We once bought matching skirts. They were navy with little flowers printed on them and had a white eyelet ruffle on the bottom. They had buttons down the front with two on the waistband, one set immediately below the waistband and the rest set two inches or so apart. You could leave the skirt unbuttoned from the waist down as there was an eyelet panel in it or you could button it however you wanted to. I wore my skirt to church one day and I had only the top two buttons on the waistband buttoned as I always did. Mother walked up to me while I was talking to someone, reached over and buttoned the next button down in front of the other person.

When I asked her why she’d done that, she told me that it made me looked more like I was dressed. I was so embarrassed and humiliated that I walked as quickly as I could to the ladies room. I cried as I undid the button she had just buttoned up. A sweet lady, who saw me, stopped and asked me what was wrong. I told her what had happened. She reassured me that I looked fine and then prayed for me. She prayed specifically that I would feel no shame because of mother’s actions.

Several years later I wore a short black skirt to church. I was out in the lobby talking to a friend when she walked up and said, “Don’t you think your skirt’s a little short?”

I said, “You can’t see my underwear, can you?”

Once she answered my personal cell phone when it rang, as I happened to be outside. I had it set up to be hands free, but she took it apart so that she could answer. When I said something, she asked me if I expected her to let it ring. I said, “Yes.”

I never did put it back together after that and I lost the earpiece I had chosen. She took something that belonged to me and infringed on it without my knowledge, much less my permission.

During one of my Grandmother Mary’s visits, someone decided it would be a good idea for the family to get together and have a four-generation picture taken. No one asked me if I wanted to do such a thing and if that day was convenient for me. Everyone assumed I would just go along with the program.

Well, in so doing, they took something precious from me. They took my time with Grandma when we were to go shopping together. Mother got to go and chose a garment for me. I never wore the garment because every time I looked at, I resented what it represented. Not that I was truly inclined to wear it anyway as I probably would not have chosen what she did, had I been allowed to go shopping as originally planned. I resented not being able to go shopping with Grandma because someone decided to do a family portrait that day without asking me how I felt about it. IF they’d asked, I wouldn’t have been thrilled about giving up my time with my grandmother, but it wouldn’t have bothered me so much either.

Then my mother had the nerve to tell me only a day or two before hand and expect me to be nice about it. On top of that she tried to lay the blame for lack of notice at Danice’s feet when she also knew well ahead of time about the photo. The only reason I showed up was that I was giving Grandma a ride to the studio. I keep the photo packed away because I can’t look at it without remembering I didn’t get a choice about the picture.

During the session, the photographer asked those of us in the back row to move over one direction. I happened to be next to mother, so when she moved, I did. As I moved towards her, she reached out to grab my sleeve to move me over. I glared at her and she put her hand down.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part #30

Mother loved to go to a bead shop in a town that was a couple of hours away to buy beads, but didn’t have a car. On one of the trips we took to that town for the sole purpose of going to the bead shop for her, she bought some heart shaped beads in exchange for my gas and my time in making a special trip down there. I decided early on about the basic shape and color, but I didn’t come up with a final design for them right away, So, she decided that because there were more than enough for the kind of earrings I wanted, that it would be okay to use some of them for a pair of earrings for her friend, Annie. She never asked me if I would mind if she made earrings for Annie with my beads. In fact, when I first said something to her about it, she was smug as she told me that I hadn’t finished designing mine yet and that she knew she had enough to do both pairs. We were at a friend’s house, so I didn’t say anything further right then.

Later that evening, when we were back home, I tried to talk to her about how I felt. She dismissed me, so I started yelling and screaming. She tried to walk away from me, saying she’d come back when I calmed down. The only reason she stayed was because I told her that how I felt wasn’t going to change.

When I was pregnant, I expressed my concerns to my mother about the jungle we called a yard. She said by the time my child was ready for a yard, she was sure the yard would be ready for my child. It wasn’t.

Mother said the extra room in the house would be ready for my child when it was born. It wasn’t ready till he was a couple of months old.

She also said she’d make drapes for my child’s room; she didn’t until a few months after we’d moved out of her house.

There have also been times when she’s gone against my wishes regarding Caleb. Despite my telling her before he was born that where my baby was concerned, my word was LAW!

One time when he wanted a ball. I told him “no” as he already had two of the same kind at her house so he didn’t need a third one. Mother came along, saw him crying then asked what happened. When I explained to her that I had told him “no” to having a new ball as he already had two at her house, she turned to him and said, “I will buy you a new ball.”

I don’t think she realized what kind of lesson that was teaching my son. She basically told him that if mommy wouldn’t buy him something, grandma would.

Then there was time I tried to teach Caleb to sit at his table for meals with his own plate instead of in her lap sharing hers; she looked at me and told me that he was only going to be this age for so long, etc.

 I also tried to discourage Caleb from joining her or me in the shower because I felt he was getting too old for such things and she gave me the same “he’s only this old for so long speech.”  I didn’t feel strong enough to stand up to her on either occasion.

On one occasion I was getting him ready to have his picture taken at a local department store. I started to brush his hair and part it on one side.  Mother walked into the room and told me not to brush his hair as it made him look older than he was. I don’t know what made her think she had the right to say that, but it wasn’t her place to tell me what to do with my son’s hair.

She’s not his mother and she should never have argued with me any in way, shape or form when I tried to set limits for him or do things with him. I’m sure that had someone done that to her, she would have resented it, just as I do.

In fact, remember a story about my Great Grandmother Jensen doing something similar to her. Mother told me a story about how she offered me some lunch before I went to afternoon kindergarten. I told her I wasn’t hungry. She told me that if I didn’t eat then, she wasn’t going to let me have anything later. I came home that afternoon and announced I was hungry. She told me I couldn’t have anything to eat. Grandma Jensen, who happened to be visiting, told mother she should give me something. She refused because she’d told me before I left that she wouldn’t feed me when I got home. She said it was the only time she ever saw Grandma Jensen cry.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part #29

There have been times when we’ve gone shopping together. I find something I like and she’ll look at it and say, “Oh, Danice would like that.”

When she does that I feel as if she’d buy it for her, but not me. It took an incident at a fabric store to
make me realize why her saying Danice, my sister-in-law would like something I chose, bothered me
so much and how it showed mother’s favoritism of her over me.

We’d gone to the fabric store where mother used to work to get some foam for a couch David, my roommate had bought. While we were there, I found a cross stitch kit showing a golden retriever with a “welcome” sign hanging from his mouth on a piece of string. I thought it was cute. She looked at and promptly told me that Mike would like it. That hurt.

We were unable to buy the foam, as it wasn’t in, due to a mix-up. By the time we went back, I had talked to David about the kit and decided to buy it. When we went back, I got it and put it on the foam table face down, where she was working. She immediately reached over, picked it up and looked at it. Then she told me that if I hadn’t bought it, she would have. The faintest of hopes flickered in my breast as I asked for whom she would have bought it. She promptly said, “Mike.”

That told me all over again that Mike and Danice are still her favorites. Not only that, but I learned later that she wouldn’t have given it to him in kit form. She would have done the project herself and then presented it to him.

I can only recall a couple of times when mother put me ahead of Mike and Wayne in any way.

Mike had a Hot Wheels tricycle when we were young and he created a parking space in the garage for it with a large piece of cardboard. He proudly showed it to me and I told him it was nice, but it was in the path for me to put my bicycle away. He said, “Tough!”

I was surprised, but didn’t argue with him. Instead, I went and found mother then told her what happened. She got after him and made it very clear that he was not to treat me that way again.

The other time was on a road trip. We were driving to Montana in the old pick up with a homemade camper and we kids had to ride in the back. There was one long bed and one short one. She allowed me to have the long one to myself throughout the trip, as I was the tallest. The boys had to share the short one.

When she moved from her house to an apartment before moving to the condo she was buying, Mike and I spent time out of our busy schedules helping her pack and sort for the move as well as hauling away unwanted household items and garbage.

I went to the apartment one night after the first move to pick up Caleb. I used mother’s computer to go online and noticed a cellophane wrapped ceramic planter with chocolates nearly overflowing out of the top sitting next to it. When I asked her about it, she said it was a gift for Mike and Danice to thank them for all the hours they had put in helping her move. She gave no indication of having bought something for me for all the hours I put in helping her. Sure, I received some household things she no longer wanted, but Mike received a lot of Bill’s tools, which he no longer needed.

When I confronted her about it several days later, she conceded that she should have done something for me too, but only after trying to get out of doing something for me as well.

Mother told me later that the buyer of the house had graciously allowed her an extra day to move out, because despite the help from my brother and me and even some people from our church, she had been unable to be packed up and moved out on the appointed day. He even allowed her to leave new fixtures in their boxes where he could find them so that she didn’t need to take time to replace the ones she was taking. At 5:00 p.m. on the day mother should have been out, the new owner came to the house. He found mother and a few people still there standing around talking. At that point he said that if they didn’t get out of the house immediately, he was going to get a lawyer. Mother told me he was a “jerk” for saying it. I remember being surprised and thinking, “He had every right to expect her to be out of the house and to threaten to call a lawyer when he found her and her friends there at 5:00 p.m. that day.”

 Looking back on this, I realized that at some level my mother expects the world to revolve around her.

Another example of her expectations happened when she called me one night and wanted to buy an ornate brass music stand that I’d bought several years earlier. She told me she thought it would be a nice birthday gift for a friend of hers. The amount she offered me was approximately one fourth of what I’d paid for it originally and probably less than I could have gotten selling the metal for scrap. When I told her the bare minimum I was willing to accept; she snapped that she didn’t have that kind of money. It was as if I was supposed to be willing to sell her what she wanted at the price she offered because she wanted to give it as a gift to someone else.

Mother’s husband Bill used to tell me that I was too sensitive and that I cried too easily and too much. If I complained to her, she sided with him. I realize now that what I was feeling then was natural and normal. It was the result of the pain I still felt from being abused, the hurt from her favoritism of everyone else and being an adolescent young girl turning into a woman with all the hormonal and mood fluctuations that come with such changes.

When I was growing up, mother would occasionally call me “Sis.” One day I asked her why she called me that. She told me it was just a nickname. I knew at the time it wasn’t just a nickname. She thought of me as a sister instead of her daughter and expected me to be mature enough to lean on. No one calls anyone “Sis” unless they think of the other person as a sister. In fact, I realize now that she wanted me to be mature enough for her to lean on, but not mature enough to walk away from her.

I also remember her telling me once that one reason she had me was so that she would have someone who would love her unconditionally.

When we were growing up I had a tendency to beat on my brothers at the slightest provocation. Mother would get angry with me for beating up on them and tell me not to do it anymore. I realize now that the reason I used any excuse to beat up on them was that I resented them and her. I resented them because she favored them over me. I resented her for favoring them. I couldn’t strike out at mother, so I hit Mike and Wayne instead.

I Was an Emotional Prostitute Part #28

My mother favored my brothers Mike and Wayne and some of her friends over me.

One night when Mike and I were young, before Wayne was born, mother and Don, her second husband were visiting some friends. They decided to visit late into the evening, past our bedtime. The couple they were visiting let her put Mike and I to sleep in their bed until they were ready to leave. Shortly after we were put in their bed, Mike started putting his legs over mine and refused to move them at my request. So, I hollered for mother. Of course by the time she got into the room, Mike had moved his legs; he did this several times. Each time mother would come into the room, I would tell her what had happened, and she would say, “Well, his legs aren’t on yours now. Go to sleep.”

Looking back on this, I realize that even then Mike was the “favorite.” I don’t remember her saying one word to him about keeping his legs off me, if she had; I suspect he wouldn’t have done it so many times. In essence, this kind of thing set me up to be the victim for men who wanted to use me. My own mother was teaching me that men were allowed to do as they pleased, while I was not.

She gave both Mike and Wayne private music lessons, but never asked if I might like to have the same when I was learning the clarinet, the guitar, or the piano. Not only that, she always told me they couldn’t afford to have the broken crown on my front tooth fixed because it would cost the equivalent of one of Bill’s whole paychecks. I find it rather ironic that she could find money for my brothers to have the luxury of music lessons.

When we started doing our own laundry, mother assigned each of us two days a week in which to do it. Originally one of my days was Saturday. I loved having that day because it meant I had all day to do my laundry, in addition to having one afternoon after school. Then one day Mike claimed I had traded him Saturday for another day in the week. I said I hadn’t. There was no way I would have given up having Saturday for a laundry day. He made a big fuss and she made me trade, even though I said I hadn’t promised to trade him. That there was no way I would have said such a thing.

She promised Michael a car for his 16^th birthday, but I was always told I’d have to buy my own car. I’ll admit she didn’t buy the car for him, but the fact that she promised him one in the first place really hurt.

When the other kids in school teased me, she told me to ignore them. Then when Wayne was teased, she made arrangements for him to be transferred to another school. To make matters worse, when the school district quit providing transportation for me to the school I was attending, I decided I may as well transfer. After all I could catch the bus for the school I should have been attending right down the street rather than walking five blocks to get public transportation. Michael attended the school I wanted to transfer to, so she made me ask him if it was okay with him. She was afraid he’d be teased because of my association with him.

I once moved a box from the big freezer out in the garage, which had Michael’s portable tape player on it. When the tape player fell off the box and hit me on the head, she acted like I was in the wrong for not taking better care of his tape player. She yelled at me for dropping it.

Then there was the time Mike decided to bake some banana bread using a recipe he’d gotten at school. As it happened, I had baked something that day just before he did. Several minutes after I finished using the oven, I walked past it and noticed that it was still on. I reached over and turned it off because I thought I had forgotten to turn it off when I finished. I had no idea that Mike was baking something at that time.

He called mother at work and cried over the phone. She had him give me the phone and proceeded to chew me out for turning the oven off. When I told her that I thought I had forgotten to turn it off after I’d finished baking and had no idea that Mike was baking anything, she simply told me that I should have looked in the oven. Mike never baked anything and this recipe was special to him. I told her again that I had baked something and thought I’d forgotten to turn the oven off. I still don’t understand why I should have been expected to check the oven when I knew Mike had never baked anything before that day and I didn’t know he was baking something then.

Then there was the time I opened the dishwasher for something and found a bowl full of water in the rack. I pointed it to out to Mike whose turn it was to do dishes. He dumped it over the dishwasher door and made a mess. Bill, mother’s third husband, who was standing there at the time, yelled at me and made me clean up the resulting mess. When I talked to mother about it, she took his side, despite the fact that I did not force Mike to dump the water over the dishwasher door. All I had done was point out to him that the bowl had turned over and filled with water.

Another time Mike put a toy down on a chair in the living room. I walked out to the living room and sat in the chair. When I did, Mike’s toy got smashed. He called mother at work and cried to her about it. She got me on the phone and told me I should have looked at the chair before I sat down. Since chairs are for people to sit on, why should I look to see if there was a toy on the chair? Not to mention that mother was always telling us to not leave our things where they didn’t belong.

Mike and Wayne were allowed to make their own choices about what to do with their life. I was always told what I should do with mine. No one asked me what I wanted to do. The few times I gave any indication of some of my choices such as being an actress or a singer, I was told point blank that I should pursue something else; such as typing. No one, not even my mother ever gave even a hint of encouragement for any potential dreams I might have. I never truly felt free to explore the world and all the possibilities it had to offer me and therefore find my own path.

I remember wanting to learn to dance on roller-skates and possibly become good enough to compete. I never told anyone that for fear of having my dream put down again. Looking back on all this, I realize now that there are talents I have that were suppressed because of the way mother treated me. I didn’t have the freedom or the energy to explore my talents beyond anything useful to her, such as cooking, baking, and sewing.

Even now she favors Mike and his wife, Danice over me.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 27

Every relationship carries with it the risk of being hurt. It doesn’t matter if its parent-child, friends or lovers, there’s always a risk of being hurt by the other person. The question is, are we willing to take the risk of being hurt? Sometimes we don’t get a choice in the matter, other times we do. I learned a long time ago to accept that risk. That without taking the risk of being hurt, we cannot know the joy of loving and being loved. The trick to avoiding major hurts in a relationship is to talk it out, forgive one another, and move on. I also know this isn’t always possible. There is one person in my life that has said and done things that hurt me, but to try and discuss such things with her tends to be impossible. I generally get a “can’t you just let it go” response or an excuse for her behavior and total lack of willingness to accept responsibility for what she did that hurt me. If I get an apology, it tends to be along the lines of “I’m sorry if what I did hurt you, but here’s my excuse.”

            There’s no real acceptance of responsibility for what was done. No effort to change her behavior or even a promise to try.

Who am I primarily talking about? My mother! All my life she has done things in favor of my brothers or friends or whoever her favorite person is at the moment while pushing me aside. Then she expects me to understand and go along with the program. That’s just for openers.

She is also terrible about keeping her word. If I confront her about it, she just makes an excuse. I learned from her early on how much it can hurt to have someone say they’ll do something for you and then not do it. The good thing about that is that I try to keep my word. If I don’t, it’s generally because circumstances beyond my control made it impossible for me to do so. In fact, I generally don’t make a promise, unless I am very sure I can keep it.

When I was in the 6^th grade, mother promised to make me a two-piece outfit, mini top and pants, in time for me to wear on the last day of school. Not only did she not make it in time for me to wear to school, she never made the outfit at all. She claimed she was too busy and forgot. Even though I reminded her once or twice. I was afraid to remind her any more than that for fear that she would yell at me.

We took belly-dancing lessons together. She started to make us costumes for the class. The costumes included sequined belts with false coins hanging from the bottom. She finished her costume including putting all the coins on the bottom of the belt, but she never finished putting the coins on the belt for mine.

When I was in high school, she started to make me a swimsuit, which took her 18 years to even come close to finishing. When I asked about it, she told me the pattern had been made wrong. Then she used my weight gain as an excuse to not work on it. Even when I lost the weight and brought the suit back to her, she failed to finish it. She also insisted on putting a fold of fabric in to hide my “jutting” pelvic bone. I suspect that extra fold played a role in the problems she had making the swimsuit.

Even if she does do it, it takes forever if it gets finished at all. Thanks to her I almost didn’t get to participate in my friend Judy’s wedding, because she almost didn’t get the dress done in time.

One time mother backed into my car with an 18-foot moving truck. It took her at least a week to call the insurance company. Even then it took me telling her that I would if she didn’t. She tried to tell me that because it was her insurance, which would cover the damage, I couldn’t call them and report the incident. I told her it was my car and therefore I could call them. Less than ten minutes later she was on the phone reporting the incident.

For one of my birthdays, I told mother that she could make me a cake at a later date, as it was unseasonably hot that year. Yet later that summer, in August, she baked two cakes for her friend Tracy, but never baked mine. I finally did it myself when I got tired of waiting for her to do so.

Mother expects me to remind her of her promises, but even when I do, it doesn’t help.

I can remember one time when I made a promise to her then deliberately and willfully did not follow through on it. She wanted a serger, but didn’t think she could afford it on her own. So she asked me to buy it with her. I agreed. Then after she was stuck with the lay away agreement, I backed out. She chewed me out over it, but I didn’t care. I realize now that in my own way I was treating her the way she had treated me all my life. I didn’t care about her feelings in the matter or how my actions affected her.

I Was An Emotional Prostitute Part 26

It was hard for me to find my father after not seeing him for over 30 years and then not get along with him. It was also hard for me to deal with his seeming lack of acceptance of me as a responsible adult. That as an adult, I have the right to make my own decisions and the ability to accept full responsibility for my actions.

I did go to Florida again, without Caleb. My father was having heart trouble and his wife needed surgery on one of her legs. So I flew down to help them. I originally planned to stay for five weeks. After I arrived, we learned that the doctors couldn’t do surgery on his wife’s leg as the other one had a problem, which needed to heal first. I stayed for three weeks anyway as I’d made a commitment to be there and I felt Von needed me. I flew back early because Caleb needed me. As I told my father, my son’s needs come first. He understood.

While I was there, we decided to watch a movie one night. My sister, Crystal (a young girl he and his wife had adopted) wanted to watch “Harry Potter.” I said I wouldn’t watch it.

Von said, “Why not?”

I raised my eyebrows and said, “Because it’s about witchcraft and witchcraft is as rebellion unto the Lord.”

“Prove it.”

“I’ll have to look it up in the concordance as I don’t remember where exactly off the top of my head.”

“Well, if you have to look it up in the concordance, then you can’t prove it.” I knew he thought he knew the Bible well because he’d told me he’d read through it, but being unwilling to allow me to prove what I said on such a flimsy basis was a shock.

I think we watched Stephen King’s “Rose Red” instead that night. As we got deeper into the movie, I started thinking, “Can’t you see the spiritual battle in this movie?”

I didn’t say it out loud given my father’s reaction to what I said about “Harry Potter,” but I got so tense watching the movie, I was afraid I was going to grind my teeth that night. Thankfully, I didn’t.

After I got home I realized that the trip had been good for me. It gave me a deeper appreciation for my life here, and just as important, I got the sense that my father now saw me as an adult capable of taking care of my responsibilities without his advice, unless I ask for it.

For a time after this, Von and I kept in touch. His wife retired while he owned a store. Then he fell and injured himself making it so that he was unable to work in his store. While he was healing, he told me he’d bought me a birthday card, but couldn’t send any money as he had in the past. I didn’t mind that, I just appreciated the fact that he thought to buy me a card. I never received the card, but a few months later Caleb received a card from him that contained a check for $25. I was hurt, but thought maybe mine was coming. Then at Christmas, Caleb and I both received a card with money for the two of us, but still no sign of my birthday card.

A couple of months later my roommate David, Caleb, and I flew to Florida for a visit. Our first day there we all went out to breakfast together. I said something to Von about him having sent Caleb a card with money in it then a card at Christmas with money it for both of us, but nothing for my birthday. His response was that his store was just getting back on its feet.

I was hurt to think that he thought so little of me that he could ignore my birthday, but do something nice for my son’s. I decided then and there that if he did the same thing that year, I was going to send anything he sent to Caleb for his birthday back to him with a long letter telling him how much he hurt me by doing that.

A few months later my birthday came and went with nothing from my father. When Caleb’s birthday came around, I found a card in the mail from Von with a check enclosed for Caleb. I told Caleb about it so that he would know that his Grandfather had not ignored his birthday, but I made it clear that because his Grandfather saw fit to ignore mine, I couldn’t let him have the card and money this time. He offered to split the money with me, which I thought was sweet, but as I told him, I couldn’t allow his Grandfather to ignore me that way. So, I sent it back with a letter telling him the whole story from the start and explaining that I would not allow him to send my son things as long as he chose to ignore me. He never apologized for his actions. Never called me and said one word about what I’d written. In fact, I don’t believe he ever called me again before he died. I did call him, but we never had the same relationship after that. It was as if in telling him that he’d hurt me, I’d crossed some line I wasn’t supposed to with him. In the end, his actions cost him a relationship with me. The funny thing is that he told my mother when I was born that they had a “beautiful daughter.”

I came home one night to find that I’d missed a call from my sister, Crystal. Given that it was late in the evening, I figured she might be asleep. I got on Facebook and found a post on her page saying that he’d died. It hadn’t been up long, so I called her and we talked briefly. I spoke with his widow, Virginia the next day and learned that there would be no funeral. The hardest part of his death for me was grieving, yet being angry at him.

Angry because I didn't get to know him as I would have liked. Angry because he wasn't around while I was growing up and as a result I missed out on knowing his mother better as well (she’d died the year before). Angry that he did something that really hurt me and when I wrote him a letter telling him what he did that hurt me, he never responded to it in any way.  Angry that he was a stubborn, jackass who thought that because he'd read the Bible all the way through more than once, he knew all it contained and could not accept that I might know something he didn't. Most of all I'm saddened that he was not willing to pay the price to truly mend our relationship. I wanted that from him more than anything else.

I realize now that he was like so many other people in my life. As long as I fit his concepts of who I should be, things were fine. But if I dared to be real and tell him how much he hurt me or if I dared to say something was in the Bible that he didn't remember himself, I became a problem. To make matters worse in regards to the Bible, if I couldn't remember the reference without looking it up, then it wasn't there and he could go on his merry way believing he knew the Bible better than me, his daughter. 

I know that in the end, he paid the price too for his unwillingness to heal our relationship, but it bothers me nonetheless that our relationship will never be healed. Now I’m left to deal with the emotional aftermath of his actions.