SURREPTITIOUS AMANDA NEAGLE
Dedicated To: My Family
A Letter to My Dad
l
First, I will start by saying I love you, but sometimes you make it really hard to. I understand you are my dad but sometimes I really hate how detached you are from the family. A dad is supposed to protect their daughters and not lie to them. I was forced to grow up, mature, at such a young age because you were never home. Because you weren’t there, I took your place at the adult table. I have always helped around the house, times were tough but those were the years I started to realize something was wrong. I remember so vividly the numerous arguments in the middle of the night when you thought I was asleep and couldn’t hear, the countless nights I would hear mommy and daddy argue because of some thing that you did. You guys never expressed love to each other only arguing and hate. You barely apologized. You just denied the accusations so much you began to believe them yourself that you did nothing wrong. Why did you do the drugs to begin with. You never really say. Was it because of us? Were we not good enough for you? You just sweep it under the rug like you never did the drugs. What made it okay to steal money from your family. What went through your head when you broke into numerous safes and lock boxes kept under mom’s bed, she had to keep you from stealing? Was it all really worth it? What was the breaking point that made you realize you need to stop? Because you still aren’t truthful. How are we supposed to believe you and trust you when all you do is keep secrets and not tell us the truth. Or how about maybe putting us is so much debt that we couldn’t afford our house and we lost it. We were homeless for a time. The nights all four of us would take turns sleeping in the small twin
sized bed while the rest of us slept on the floor in my Grandmother’s desk room. The night we moved out will forever be engraved in the back of my mind. The way I was awoken to screaming and instantly having to calm my brother and sister. I remember carrying them both out to the car trying to console them that everything is going to be okay. I remember the hole that you punched by mom’s head while I was on my way out. I remember it all. I remember me having to be strong and not crying so I could be strong for my brother and sister. That was the first day I realized I could trust no one. I put up so many walls that day and some are still standing to this day. I don’t talk about my feeling because I have to be strong. I have always been strong. For the sake of others. I only cried when I was alone, or when no one could hear me. That was so much of a burden for one little girl. I had to make sure my brother and sister where happy all while looking after my mother to also make sure she was okay. She hides her depression with uncontrolled anger. What person thinks they have to stay strong to take care of others and the age of twelve. I have always been the emotional “therapist” that has to hear everything. Both sides of both parties. The complaints you have about mom. The complaints she has about you. It’s not healthy to hear you guys talk about each other to me. I am not a therapist I am your daughter. Why would you make me pick sides? How would I even be able to. Years I have been the emotional dump truck for the two of you because you guys are too much of a coward to talk to each other, so you come to complain to me. I’m not on either side I’m on my side. Over the years I have learned that my health is more important. That’s why I am doing this project.
A Letter to My Mom You are my mother and I love you. You raised me to be an independent and strong willed woman. With the circumstances we had you always put your kids first and tried to give them the best life that you could. But everyday is an argument with you. There is never a day where you don’t get angry and scream at someone or something. Everything is not a “big deal”. Everyone isn’t out to get you. We are doing our best. When someone makes you angry you don’t need to go and attack them on their insecurities and every little thing they have ever done since the day they were born. You get angry over the littlest of things. The pressure you put on us sometimes is ridiculous. Yes, we are no longer kids but that doesn’t mean we have to have everything figured out. Just because your life is isn’t how you planned doesn’t mean you need to take your anger out on us. There is a difference between discipline and just plain old verbal abuse. You scream and yell and blow things way out of proportion. The world does not revolve around you, sorry for the news flash. You could be doing things to make your life better, but you choose not to. You don’t push yourself to do better, you’d rather just stay where you are in your unhappy life and scream at everyone else that it sucks. I’m tired of hearing you yell at your husband. You yell at him constantly; saying you don’t love him and that you hate him, but you refuse to throw him out. Oh, and if we don’t put our clothes away on your time schedule, we are ungrateful and lazy. We are trying our best! We all have multiple successful jobs and are trying very hard to please you. So, I’m sorry if I’m tired after working thirteenhour days and then have to do homework. I’m sorry I can’t put my clothes away on your time schedule. I’ve never asked for anything ridiculous. I knew we were poor and never asked for money that I know we didn’t have. I had to mature at the early age of twelve. I have been taking care of this family more than a twelve-year-old should. I have always helped you and put you back together when dad did something stupid and yet you still call me lazy and ungrateful. And honestly it hurts every time. This is why we block you out and don’t listen to you. We do it right and you yell, we do it wrong and you
yell, so why even do it at all if you are going to yell at us regardless? This house is never quiet. It is always loud. The number of times you have blown up the simplest of things and broke my stuff is toxic. There were times you’ve destroyed my ceramic pieces that can’t be replaced because you were mad at something. The number of times you have thrown or ruined things and then wonder why the house is in such bad shape. I remember an argument where we were eating dinner in our old house and you flipped the table mid dinner and started screaming and throwing things everywhere. You were throwing pots of rice, lamps, along with plates, cups, and utensils. The number of times you have sent me texts that sounded like suicide letters and disappeared after telling me to take care of the family are too many to count. I literally rushed home from school and drive an hour because Katlynn called me upset and thought you were going to kill yourself from the text you sent her. How many times do you want to tell your children that “Amanda will take care of you” and then drive off because you were upset? How do you think that makes us feel? You never see the aftermath of your episodes. The back and forth hate I hear from you and dad is so mentally exhausting. With the amount of things I have been through, I should be an anxiety ridden, depressed, suicidal mess, but I’m not, because I have always had to been strong for other people. Getting in someone’s face and screaming at them so close that spit hits your face is uncalled for. The constant threats that you will throw us out or throw our things away and then turn around and wonder why we hate you and never want to share anything with you – it’s because when we do you call it stupid or it turns into an argument. I am so tired of fixing this household. Katlynn’s always coming to me when she is upset, dad coming to me to complain about how unreasonable and crazy you are, Jason just ignores everything. I have to sit here and listen to everyone’s problems, complaining about each other. I don’t want to pick sides. I just sit there and nod, so you can get over it and then the very next day get angry over something else. But who am I supposed to go to?