Day 19 & 20.....Home

I'm scared.

The past two days I have been back and forth between Queens and Long Island moving the last of my stuff. I walked around the empty apartment before I left; just taking a moment to really let it all set in that I was no longer going to be living there.

It was no longer my home.

I was voluntarily moving back to Crazy town.
I was going to be living with the Mayor of Crazy town who happens to be my Father.

I'm trying not to project or to set myself up but I know my Dad.

I know he's sick.
I know he doesn't mean to freak out.
I know he doesn't mean what he says.

His words are sharper then a knife......and cut you off right below the knees.

His verbal lashings have left there scars upon my spirit.

With just one of those blank, black-eyed hollow stares and I know that he's about to attack. I used to think he hated me; that I was such a fuck-up that there was no room in his heart to offer me any love.

I didn't know he was sick.
It was a secret.

There was so much I never knew about my Father because I grew up in a home of.....

"Pretend everything is normal."

No one ever told me he was crazy......I just though he was an incredibly mean son-of -a-bitch.

I only found out a few years ago what made my father the way he was. Doctors' have said that mental illness is just in our genes. But I know that it's more then that.

Life made my Father crazy.
Lack of love made my Father crazy.
Loss of hope made my Father crazy.
His Father's cruelty made him crazy.

I sometimes think of what his childhood was like. Growing up without a person in the world to show him love. My Grandfather would callously pass him on to anyone who would take him. Each new family letting him know he was not welcome. Reminding him daily that only reason he was staying with them is because my Grandfather had paid them.

I remember when my Father first read one of the Harry Potter books....he told us that was how he grew up.

But there was no Hogwart's that he could esacpe to.
No one to save him.
Nobody wanted him.
Nobody loved him.
There was no happy ending

Sometimes I wish I could just go back in time to find him.
To pull him out of the loveless world of his existence.
To hug the little boy he was.
To tell him I love him.
To tell him he mattered.

I used to hate my father and couldn't understand why he was the way he was. Now I find myself amazed at the fact that he gave me what he did.

Even knowing that he is ill and that he's going to freak out sooner or later. Doesn't make his words any less painful. He infects me with the burden of pain he's carried through his life.

He is toxic to me.

It's been two years since I've put myself in a place where I would have to deal with him on a daily basis. In the past few days I've treaded ever so lightly on the egg shells that his sanity is comprised of.....wondering if my next step will be the one that makes him crack.

I keep telling myself...this is temporary and I know it is.

I also know that everything happens for a reason.
I may not agree with the universe's timing for it's lessons of healing.
But I trust the process.

I know that there is such a long ways to go for me.
That this process is never ending.

As I heal from each aspect of the beliefs I have carried I discover there is more to be sorted through.

Each lesson leading me closer to who I want to be.
Freeing me from the person I've been.
Offering me the opportunity to be more then I could ever imagine.

Before I left my apartment I took a walk down to the beach.

One last Sun set before I go...........

I sat on a bench on the boardwalk watching in awe. The sky was ablaze; painted brushstokes of fiery pinks, oranges and reds swirling up through the last remnants of the day. The deep blues and purples of the evening seeping down with it's darkness disguised as twilight.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of the salty air one last time. Looked above to make one last wish on the first glimmer of a star in the night.

It was over.....

It was time to come home.


Until Tomorrow,
Mighty Morgan