How Did I Get Here?

Here I am, sitting at the computer typing this post. If you are reading this, I appreciate you. If you are wondering what you are about to read, well it’s just a little piece about my existence and how I learned so much this year that it caused me to have to rethink everything I knew about myself. I know it sounds cliche, but this goes back to my mother… wait a minute, not at all. This actually goes back to my father. Yup, we gonna talk about this.

So a lot of the details about my father and I could probably be summed up from this great Drake lyric: “Boo-hoo, sad story-black american dad story”. We all know how the media portrays the black father as being absent and or terrible and yada yada. Well my father and my mom were not together when I was growing up. They split and divorced when I was a wee child around the age where you cannot form memories or something, who knows I don’t remember. What I do remember is growing up and always knowing who he was. It wasn’t like he ran out and was never around or I met him when I was like 23. No, he was always in the same city, but his love for drugs and alcohol was always greater than his love for his children. This may explain why I never drank or smoked or done any narcotics.

Growing up like this was interesting, people would talk about their fathers in an either positive or negative manner, but my experience was always a grey one. As I got older I learned more things about my father. I know he has tried to kill me and my brothers on multiple occasions, from trying to set a house on fire to sabotaging a car to try to hurt us whilst we were driving (us being my mom and her children). I know I never finished riding a bike because in the middle of learning my bike just disappeared. He apparently traded the bikes for drugs or money or who knows. I just know I have my license now so I guess that’s one way to jump past that hurdle of being mobile. These are only a few things, but it gives you a picture of my strained relationship with the only father I have.

Fast forward to later… I am an adult, at least I tell myself I am most times, and I know all of this information but I try to keep a relationship with this man. My brothers don’t really care, and I am basically the link to both sides of the family. I try to go to brunches and gatherings on that side of my family to be there for my cousins who I love and cherish. My father is no longer in love with drugs, but his love for alcohol is as strong as it has ever been. Sadly, like most love stories, someone ends up getting hurt. Who got hurt? He did, as he is constantly teetering between life and death. His liver is completely shot, and he has other organs failing. He is retaining fluid now, and earlier this year I think (or maybe last year) he was in the hospital getting a lot of work done and blood given because he was found bleeding out due to his liver being completely shot. I visited him to see him a few weeks ago (the day before Thanksgiving) because I kept hearing how he doesn’t have much time left. I knew my brothers would not go, so I did what I felt I had to do, you know, to be a good person or whatever. During the visit, my aunt cursed him out as a sister does to a brother who isn’t taking care of himself and I just stared, not having many words for him. I wanted to ask him so many things, like do you know when my birthday is, do you know how old I am, what made you think doing drugs was a good idea in the first place, why did you start drinking…basically get some things off of my chest but I simply said none of that. There is a huge reason though, and that is because I felt conflicted about visiting him in the first place.

See, this year I learned something. Something that made a lot of the past make sense. I always knew that my mom never had a name for another boy so when I was born my brother named me. I also knew that my mom and dad divorced and separated very early, but it would’ve been earlier but she said he didn’t want to at first. What I didn’t know was that my mom and dad used to physically fight at times. She told me this year that they had also stopped having sex before I was born. This made me go hmm… What she told me next was that one night, he decided that he didn’t care that she did not want to have sex because he wanted to. So, he did what all those people on Law and Order: SVU or in those Lifetime movies do, and he forced himself on her. Now, this is bad enough, but she also said there was no precedence for marital rape so she couldn’t pursue any charges. So what came of this situation? Well… I did. That night he decided to rape my mom, I was conceived.

I have yet to fully digest this information as I don’t really know how I should feel. Like I hate sexual abuse of any sort, and I hate it against my mom. The first thing I wanted to do was go to Richmond and beat up my dad, but since I am the product of that heinous act, how should I feel? Had he not did it, I wouldn’t be here. This made me think about how he always forgets about me or forgets my birthday, or why my mom didn’t have a name planned. Hell she was dealing with the trauma of carrying the product of sexual abuse towards her. So, knowing all of this, I still visited him in the hospital. Knowing all of this I still ask how he is and get updates on his health. Knowing all of this I still don’t know how to feel. I can literally say that thing all the rappers from any hood say, that whole “I was never supposed to be here” thing. I also know that in writing this, many people will learn about this for the first time. My mother has given me the green light to post this. I am not writing for pity or for fake tears, I am mainly writing to get this burden slightly off my chest. I am still processing everything, and in a year of highs and lows, this would be a low point. I thought to talk to him about this before he passes, but knowing how addiction works, he most likely wont even remember this. So I continue to navigate life… A year ago, heck even a few months ago I would’ve had a completely different outlook on life. Now, I just contemplate existentialism and what my purpose should ultimately be as I am here still maintaining a relationship with the man who assaulted my mother but also gave me life through that assault. Funny how life works man. Funny.