Welcome Back....
Long absence, yes I know. Terribly sorry.
A LOT has happened. Like, more than I can even BEGIN to describe.
Start from the beginning?
I finished 1st Semester, virtually unscathed. Life was pretty simple at home for the most part. Dad and I talked about a lot of stuff, and I was actually surprised when he asked me about my relationship status. I didn't divulge much, which I know he took to "It's not clear at the moment".... just not in that few words. Other than that, everything was god at home...
For a while.
Until one particular night.
Dad had gone out with some friends, and what got to me was that he didn't drive. Normally whenever he goes out with friends, he's the driver. But, then again, he drove a friend's HUGE SUV, so I figured that he was just driving their vehicle. I didn't know that he wasn't planning on driving home..
Because... while out, he got drunk. But, not just DRUNK.... plastered-down drunk.
It was BAD.
Anyway, he came home around 2, maybe 3 am. I had only been home for about an hour or two when he got in -- went to a late-night movie with Mark [more on that in a moment] -- and I was downstairs, watching the big screen TV, for reasons unbeknown to me.
That's when it got bad....
He came in, and when I looked around, he definitely didn't look like himself, and that's when I got worried, so I tried to go upstairs to my room without having him see me.
Didn't work.
He tried talking to me, which I sat through, no problem. Then things started to come out. He went on a tirade on how I live my life, and how I don't seek adventure. From there, the meaningless stuff came out -- my grandmother and how I don't talk to her (she treats me like crap), the car (......) and then.... the topping.
He started in on Mark.... and how things didn't look right between us. He basically told me I couldn't go anywhere, and then forbade me from seeing Mark again.
Of course, he threw in the words "queer" and "faggot" among others.
That pushed me over the top, and we got into it. COMPLETELY.
I was yelling at the top of my lungs at him, crying almost at anything he was saying.
Then, somewhere in the conversation, I said something, he said something, then to which I said:
"So WHAT? What IF I actually LIKE Mark? What would you say about THAT?!"
Silence. Then the punch, slap, punch feature.
Yes, my father punched me. He went for my head, but I managed to move fast enough. He DID slap my head... HARD... and managed to punch me in the stomach. HURT like a mother.... He knew what he'd done, and just stood there looking at me wince in pain. For about 10 seconds, at around 3am, dead silence.
I then went upstairs, grabbed my jacket, the car keys, and left.
He was sitting on the couch, looking stone at the fireplace.
I don't even remember how, but I ended up at the Waterfront, right in the same spot Mark and I had been prior to everything happening at home. And, it's still dark, but I just broke down crying. I called Mark, and told him what happened, and he told me to come by -- parents were out of town, had the house to himself.
I remember just crying into his shoulder for what felt like hours. He listened to me, which I just love about him.. he always listens.
I stayed the rest of the night with him. I didn't want to go anywhere else, really. I knew if I was with him, I would definitely be with someone I cared alot about.
I didn't come home for about, oh, 4 days. I did come to get some stuff, like clothes, but I only came at times where I knew Dad wouldn't be there. He did try calling me... a LOT. Left several voice mails, tons of missed calls.... But I wanted some alone time from him. Mark's parents were OK with me staying... said they liked a "responsible young man staying with him".... [lol] I must say it was a lot of fun though, being with him. A lot of it was simple talking, which I didn't complain about. I think I just needed that.... you know, talking period. It helped, especially.
I went back home and confronted my father, who was by far freakin' like crazy. Of course, his first action was to yell at me for leaving.
Didn't help, because I turned around and proceeded to head back out the door.
We sat down at the table and talked. Well, he talked. I said nothing. He apologized, explained the drinking tirade. I told him I got all of his voicemails. He kept going, apologizing about what he said about Mark, everything he brought up, apologized for getting so drunk, and then I think he expected everything to be like it was.
Not once though did he bring up what I had said. And I didn't apologize for it, because I mean it.
When I brought it up, he kinda went around the bush with his response, which started to tick me off. I think he was scared to say anything about it....
So I did.
Calmly, I just brought everything out into the open, whether he wanted to hear it or not. It drained a TON of energy from me, but I still think that finally, he needed to hear it. But, it came at a cost.
Once again, we got into an argument, into which we both said a ton of things.
THIS time, he kicked me out.
I went upstairs, grabbed some clothes, and left. I tried taking the laptop, but I couldn't get to it... he had hidden it. Otherwise, I would have written this while everything was going on.
So, once again, I went back to Mark's. I didn't want to overstay my welcome, but I had nowhere else to go. So glad to know him.
A week goes by, and I'm only allowed inside to get clothes and stuff, but I can't stay longer than necessary. I tried to sneak back in, but discovered that my father installed an alarm system downstairs. Yah, that wasn't pretty.
Then, out of the blue, one day, while Mark and I are on the couch watching TV, he comes over. Kinda surprised me.
I won't go into much more detail, but he and I managed to become more civil, and he let me back in the house. He told me that it would take time -- DUH -- but if this is what I truly wanted, it wasn't his right to use ancient antics to get me to change.
That was a little over... oh, 3 weeks ago. It's kinda gone back to where it was after Mom died. We still talk, but it's definitely different. Everyday it seems to get a bit better, but I can still read his eyes very well.
AS for Mark, he and I aren't officially together at this point, but we have taken the necessary steps towards that. It's kinda like a movie almost.... but, it's real. Things are reaching places I've never imagined, but like I said, I can't really think a lot about it. I am happy with him. Happier than I could've ever imagined. I must say though... I would've never imagined Mark ever. It's going slow, but I really don't mind... not one bit.
Ok, I HAVE to go now. We're visiting some of Dad's family -- none of which know, but that's REALLY OK, because I never talk to them -- and I'm kinda hidden away in the room. Tomorrow we're heading back down to the Bay Area to more... normal... people.
Things are getting better. I don't think it'll ever be perfect or normal again per se, but I can smile again. And that's what I want.
Later Guys.
[CaliforniaKid07]
A LOT has happened. Like, more than I can even BEGIN to describe.
Start from the beginning?
I finished 1st Semester, virtually unscathed. Life was pretty simple at home for the most part. Dad and I talked about a lot of stuff, and I was actually surprised when he asked me about my relationship status. I didn't divulge much, which I know he took to "It's not clear at the moment".... just not in that few words. Other than that, everything was god at home...
For a while.
Until one particular night.
Dad had gone out with some friends, and what got to me was that he didn't drive. Normally whenever he goes out with friends, he's the driver. But, then again, he drove a friend's HUGE SUV, so I figured that he was just driving their vehicle. I didn't know that he wasn't planning on driving home..
Because... while out, he got drunk. But, not just DRUNK.... plastered-down drunk.
It was BAD.
Anyway, he came home around 2, maybe 3 am. I had only been home for about an hour or two when he got in -- went to a late-night movie with Mark [more on that in a moment] -- and I was downstairs, watching the big screen TV, for reasons unbeknown to me.
That's when it got bad....
He came in, and when I looked around, he definitely didn't look like himself, and that's when I got worried, so I tried to go upstairs to my room without having him see me.
Didn't work.
He tried talking to me, which I sat through, no problem. Then things started to come out. He went on a tirade on how I live my life, and how I don't seek adventure. From there, the meaningless stuff came out -- my grandmother and how I don't talk to her (she treats me like crap), the car (......) and then.... the topping.
He started in on Mark.... and how things didn't look right between us. He basically told me I couldn't go anywhere, and then forbade me from seeing Mark again.
Of course, he threw in the words "queer" and "faggot" among others.
That pushed me over the top, and we got into it. COMPLETELY.
I was yelling at the top of my lungs at him, crying almost at anything he was saying.
Then, somewhere in the conversation, I said something, he said something, then to which I said:
"So WHAT? What IF I actually LIKE Mark? What would you say about THAT?!"
Silence. Then the punch, slap, punch feature.
Yes, my father punched me. He went for my head, but I managed to move fast enough. He DID slap my head... HARD... and managed to punch me in the stomach. HURT like a mother.... He knew what he'd done, and just stood there looking at me wince in pain. For about 10 seconds, at around 3am, dead silence.
I then went upstairs, grabbed my jacket, the car keys, and left.
He was sitting on the couch, looking stone at the fireplace.
I don't even remember how, but I ended up at the Waterfront, right in the same spot Mark and I had been prior to everything happening at home. And, it's still dark, but I just broke down crying. I called Mark, and told him what happened, and he told me to come by -- parents were out of town, had the house to himself.
I remember just crying into his shoulder for what felt like hours. He listened to me, which I just love about him.. he always listens.
I stayed the rest of the night with him. I didn't want to go anywhere else, really. I knew if I was with him, I would definitely be with someone I cared alot about.
I didn't come home for about, oh, 4 days. I did come to get some stuff, like clothes, but I only came at times where I knew Dad wouldn't be there. He did try calling me... a LOT. Left several voice mails, tons of missed calls.... But I wanted some alone time from him. Mark's parents were OK with me staying... said they liked a "responsible young man staying with him".... [lol] I must say it was a lot of fun though, being with him. A lot of it was simple talking, which I didn't complain about. I think I just needed that.... you know, talking period. It helped, especially.
I went back home and confronted my father, who was by far freakin' like crazy. Of course, his first action was to yell at me for leaving.
Didn't help, because I turned around and proceeded to head back out the door.
We sat down at the table and talked. Well, he talked. I said nothing. He apologized, explained the drinking tirade. I told him I got all of his voicemails. He kept going, apologizing about what he said about Mark, everything he brought up, apologized for getting so drunk, and then I think he expected everything to be like it was.
Not once though did he bring up what I had said. And I didn't apologize for it, because I mean it.
When I brought it up, he kinda went around the bush with his response, which started to tick me off. I think he was scared to say anything about it....
So I did.
Calmly, I just brought everything out into the open, whether he wanted to hear it or not. It drained a TON of energy from me, but I still think that finally, he needed to hear it. But, it came at a cost.
Once again, we got into an argument, into which we both said a ton of things.
THIS time, he kicked me out.
I went upstairs, grabbed some clothes, and left. I tried taking the laptop, but I couldn't get to it... he had hidden it. Otherwise, I would have written this while everything was going on.
So, once again, I went back to Mark's. I didn't want to overstay my welcome, but I had nowhere else to go. So glad to know him.
A week goes by, and I'm only allowed inside to get clothes and stuff, but I can't stay longer than necessary. I tried to sneak back in, but discovered that my father installed an alarm system downstairs. Yah, that wasn't pretty.
Then, out of the blue, one day, while Mark and I are on the couch watching TV, he comes over. Kinda surprised me.
I won't go into much more detail, but he and I managed to become more civil, and he let me back in the house. He told me that it would take time -- DUH -- but if this is what I truly wanted, it wasn't his right to use ancient antics to get me to change.
That was a little over... oh, 3 weeks ago. It's kinda gone back to where it was after Mom died. We still talk, but it's definitely different. Everyday it seems to get a bit better, but I can still read his eyes very well.
AS for Mark, he and I aren't officially together at this point, but we have taken the necessary steps towards that. It's kinda like a movie almost.... but, it's real. Things are reaching places I've never imagined, but like I said, I can't really think a lot about it. I am happy with him. Happier than I could've ever imagined. I must say though... I would've never imagined Mark ever. It's going slow, but I really don't mind... not one bit.
Ok, I HAVE to go now. We're visiting some of Dad's family -- none of which know, but that's REALLY OK, because I never talk to them -- and I'm kinda hidden away in the room. Tomorrow we're heading back down to the Bay Area to more... normal... people.
Things are getting better. I don't think it'll ever be perfect or normal again per se, but I can smile again. And that's what I want.
Later Guys.
[CaliforniaKid07]