My sister's memorial is Saturday. It's been a month since she died. It's weird. Even though we weren't close, there have always been times when I would see something and think of her. Or have a random thought and text her. She'd always been a part of my life, even when we thought we hated each other. I've patched things up with my mom. I told her how her actions made me feel. She apologised and we're trying to be more open with each other. Except where step-dad is concerned. (Minor tangent-single mothers, if a man says he never wanted kids, don't marry him. It will just make everyone miserable) But I don't see my relationship with him changing any.
I'm terrified of going to the memorial. Not because I was planning on singing. Not because it will be emotional. I'm afraid of going because I'm scared my biological father will be there. I've seen him maybe 6 months worth since I was 5. He's the one that sexually abused me (and possibly Stef. She remembered even less than I do). He's the one that would hit us with his belt because we wouldn't go to sleep. He's the one that was a mean drunk. He's the reason that I, as a 4 year old, would wonder why mom was crying in the next room. He's the one who would "pet" my braids as they lay on my chest (when I was 17).
The only good memory I have of him is when I was 3 or 4, and he took me fishing by myself. The more I think about him, the more metal doors slam shut in my mind. I'm 27 years old, and terrified of a man I haven't seen in a decade.
I'm seriously debating not going, on the chance he'll show up. He's called my mom's house, my step-dad's work, even the church. I'm afraid he'll show up, and what I will do if he does. He's called me a liar (and worse) for accusing him of sexual abuse. Not that I've pressed charges. Just in a previous blog, I mentioned that though my memories of any abuse aren't there, there's enough evidence that there had been in the past. And once, I listened to a weight-loss self-hypnosis CD. It said think back to when the overeating began. My mind flew to the bathroom that we shared when I visited him when I was 8. I remembered being in the bathtub, and then BANG! Metal door slammed shut, and I had a panic attack. I literally gained 30 lbs that summer I was with him. And I haven't stopped gaining since.
I'm not just terrified. I'm angry. I'm angry at my mom who won't file harassment or stalking charges against him. I'm angry at my step-dad who told my dad about my miscarriage and about my wedding and about my life. I'm angry that nobody protected me when I was little, and they're not doing it now. I realize I should protect and stand up for myself. But every time I think about him, I turn into a scared little girl again. A hurt little girl. And that's what pisses me off the most.
I don't want to hurt my mom by not going to the memorial. But I don't want to undo the psychological progress I've made in the last few years. I feel like I'm finally in a good spot, mentally, and I don't want to jeopardize it. I don't want to feel like I've abandoned Stef one last time. I don't want to be governed by fear. I don't want to see him again.
I just don't know what to do.