The house of despair

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I used to live here. It seems so strange to me now. Almost like it was a movie I watched or maybe a past life. This was only about 16 years ago. My Aunt sent me this picture this week. She was shocked at how bad it looks now. It is very disheartening. When she sent me this picture I realized that I don’t have a single picture from inside this house. I never had a happy memory there to record. I’m not sure that this house has ever seen a happy memory.

We lived on the top floor. The bottom floor was unfinished and had originally been a garage that you entered from the rear. This made a perfect place for his activities. I spent as much time as possible away from home. I had no money so I worked. I volunteered to work any weekend that they would let me. I was a Quality Assurance Inspector for a local factory so overtime was plentiful. The added work provided me with a means to buy car insurance. It’s odd that insurance seemed like a luxury item to me. I hid my money in my bible. I knew it was the one place that he would never look.

He pawned most everything that wasn’t nailed down to support his addictions. His demons haunted him and tore his life away. They consumed every waking minute which was a lot of minutes since he rarely slept. The closest I can come to a happy memory here was a time when I baked him a cake. He had been asleep for over 24 hours after recovering from a binge. When he awoke he was so pitiful and was craving sugar. I made him that cake and watched him devour it. It was the only normal thing I had seen him do in weeks. It was a connection to reality for me to see him do an ordinary thing like eating. We didn’t do ordinary things together. Most of our time was spent in screaming matches. Many times I hadn’t the slightest idea why he was angry. There were so many profanities being tossed about at high decibels that it became difficult to make sense of it. I had learned to block him out. This in turn made him angrier so he added physical assaults to get my attention. No, he never hit me. He wouldn’t do that. He was not that kind of person. His favorite attention getter was to spit in my face. He had pure contempt for me. I never understood why he didn’t want me to leave since he hated me so much. Sometimes he would sling me across the living room by my ankles but he never punched me. I had a glider chair with a gliding foot stool. I learned to drop my feet quickly when he came into the room so he wouldn’t grab me by my ankles.

I tried to leave him many times. He would lock me in the bathroom to wear me down. The bathroom was on the second floor so in order to leave I would have to jump. The day I finally left was a most surreal day. I don’t know what happened in my head but I knew it was over. He and his friend we’re in the bottom floor completing their activities. I knew an earthquake could come and they wouldn’t leave those activities. I took this opportunity to start gathering my clothes. I stuffed everything I could into my Ford Escort and left. I wasn’t scared anymore. I didn’t care what he did to me. I made it to a place mentally that he could have bashed my head in and that would have been better than our current situation. If you’re not scared to die then fear has no hold on you anymore.

Today I am in a different place mentally and physically. I have no anger for him. If I could talk to him today I would tell him that I am sorry. I am sorry that I couldn’t help him. I am sorry that I couldn’t protect him. I am sorry that I couldn’t make his life better. I am sorry that I was a hindrance to him. I truly wish him peace and happiness. I hope that he will find some before he leaves this earth.

19 thoughts on “The house of despair

  1. Ida Faye Daniel Gibson

    Nanna, I know that part of your life wasn’t a good time. And yes we are to forgive those who do us wrong as only GOD can be their judge. As for helping him then, no, you would have made him dig in deeper I think. Some demons do not want to be free from their host and the host like wise from the demons. Your time came when you left and never came back…well, except for that piano and then never looking back. You stepped in to the weird world of Sir Pete and his magical crazy sweet therapy. You have came a long way and will have many miles to go. Your writings are a great therapy as well and HEY, may make you some bucks…well I know they will as your gooood!!!

    Reply
  2. mewhoami

    Although we would love to, we can’t fix people. They have to want change and then make the effort themselves. You were brave to stay for as long as you did. I imagine after receiving that picture, your mind was flooded with memories. I can’t imagine. It would be very difficult to relive those times. It’s wonderful though that you made it through and have become a stronger person because of it.

    Now you are here to share with and to help others who may be going through the same thing. That’s a gift to those who are hurting and who feel alone. They need to hear your stories. I commend you for putting it out there for the world to see.

    Reply
  3. mirrorgirl

    It truly was a house of despair. I guess the memories are kept in the demon walls. Let them fall, and breathe every bit of air that you can. Sending my love, and hopes it amounts to something.

    Reply
    1. snoogiefisk Post author

      Thank you…I hadn’t thought about these things in a long while. I had put it away and gave up all hope. I guess this picture just proves that there never was any hope.

      Reply
  4. Ramblings Mom

    You are more like your mother than I thought. That part of me, I wish you did not have. IF I had not been going thru my own hell, I would have recognized yours. I vote we hire hit men and wipe em out!!! But that would be too easy!!!! You learned a lot from that life and grew into a beautiful person!!!!!!!

    Reply
  5. Michelle

    I love you. I love your spirit, your use of words, your love for others. You have a beautiful spirit about you that has carried you through some ugly situations and you have become a better person because of them. I can so relate to this particular blog. That world can’t be understood by someone that’s never lived it. The fear and pain is easily seen but the desire to truly help the person that has caused so much of that pain is hard for “regular” folks to understand. I’m so glad you are you….you are ok……and you are now loved like you should be.

    Reply
  6. Carl D'Agostino

    You can’t make yourself sorry for an addict, like you failed. They have lost their humanity and the wise thing is putting as much distance as possible between. I know . I have lived it. Both as victim and the pain giver. I did find my way – clean and sober a very long time. Thanks visit my blog.

    Reply

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