Tag Archives: anger

Fun to Watch… Not So Fun to Participate

1 May
Please, just don't do it. It not only hurts you, it also hurts all of us out here looking at the photo.

Please, just don’t do it. It not only hurts you, it also hurts all of us out here looking at the photo.

5-14-11

17 Aug

My son and daughter ran around with family and friends in the large hotel for this enormous get together. Everyone was staying in the hotel making it easy for everyone to take over the common areas.

I found out Terry had somehow found out about our event and had shown up unexpectedly. I felt my stomach knot up and my throat start to burn. I started running through the halls trying to find my children, not because I thought he would actually hurt them but because A) He is a possible threat to me and therefore is treated as a threat to the kids and B) the kids have been so traumatized by his absence that his sudden and unexpected reappearance could be even more traumatizing than they could handle.

So as I am running through the halls herding my kids back to our room, I keep catching glances of him. He is wearing a bright orange t-shirt with a screen print on it and jeans. Some of the times I see him I turn and run in a different direction. But some of the time I try to confront him. I demand to know why he has the audacity to show his face anywhere near us. I ask him if he ever thinks about his abandoned children and how he has hurt them for life. I can feel my blood pressure build in my neck, in my face. I can feel my heart trying to beat out of my chest and hear the blood rushing in my ears. I am so angry. I can’t talk to him in a normal tone. I find myself yelling and occasionally stammering through my pure rage.

Then I notice that some of the times I try to confront him, he is running from me. All this is occurring among my friends and family who continue as if it’s not happening with the exception of the people right next to us who turn and look uncomfortably at us and move away. I finally get my children and myself back to our room when he walks in behind us. I step in front of the kids and tell him to get out. He begins to try to reason with me and my rage flares again. Behind his eyes I see his pain. Not only at what I have been saying to him but also at his choices. He knows he cannot fix what he has broken. I tell the kids to leave the room and they do and I start in on Terry again.

He takes small steps and I am assailing him with a barrage of fury. He tries to interrupt me, talking gently, trying to calm me which just fuels my anger. Finally he turns and scoots around the door into the hall like he’s hoping that my words will hit the wall and fall to the floor instead of continuing to pummel him like I’m pelting him with sharp-edged rocks. I leave the room and walk to another room where my kids are waiting for me. I tell them to go pack their bags. Kira gives me a look of concern but doesn’t say anything and walks off with her brother.

After the kids packed up, they took their bags out of the room and I walked in to do a final walk-through. On the table by the bed was a small stack of papers. It was a couple of old bills that were addressed to me that had my social security number on it, a couple pictures of the kids and a note with an explanation and an apology. At the end, he stated that he would never bother us again. Next to these papers were a haphazardly folded couple of groups of money. It looked like he wandered around and picked up any spare bills or groups of bills from change he got at the store. At first glance I could see several twenties folded together. His final attempt at making peace I guess.

But I know how he treats money so it says a little that he even made the attempt.

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