Twentieth Post

Shannon

Here I am, frustrated and filled with resentment, anger.

The rocks that filled my lungs (see previous post), burn like lava stones.

Shannon was my step mother until her death.

I didn't kill her.

But I did punch her one time.

Not my best moment, and it led to Dad not talking to me for 6 months or more. Can't really blame him, but can't really blame me either... she loved to provoke and she was there to take my mode of transportation without warning. The truck I'd always been allowed to drive, but didn't own. It wasn't mine, it was his to take. But she was yelling and yelling, and then insulted my dad "no wonder your wife divorced you" of course is clear as day because I became so enraged I threw a punch and hit her... not hard.

The car door was between us which I did not do on purpose, but as she lunged at me, and hit the door, I was grateful it was there.

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Back Story

My dad met Shannon about a year into his recovery from drugs and alcohol. She was about six months sober, maybe? They met at an Alcoholics Anonymous or NA meeting and I think Dad was probably smitten instantly. I was happy for him at first but noticed some underhanded comments she made about my weight (yay, freshman 15!).

My 17 year old, extremely naive, boundary-less and unable to see the clouds from the sky.

I drove home to see Dad every weekend while in college. Why not, I hadn't made friends and my college roommate, who I liked and/or got along well with, was going home every weekend to see her BF. So off I went to YC to hang with Dad, and occasionally see my high school best friend, we'll call her C.S.

It was not the easiest time. Dad was lonely; Shannon was a welcome change. He had love to give, he was such a big hearted guy, if not frustratingly masculine at times. 

Shannon started displaying anger and resentment toward me in very overt and disturbing ways. Once on a ridiculous camping trip, she was being weird, mean, and then all of sudden I look over and the woman, who at this time is my father's fiancé, is sitting on my 40-something year-old dad's lap, making out with him passionately, on a picnic bench, in front of everyone, and was staring at me as she kissed him. Eyes open, looking at 17 year-old me. It was nasty.

Immediately after, like 10 minutes later she apparently broke off their engagement. I say apparently because we rode back from Clear Lake with her putting her ring finger behind her head rest the whole time to show me, who was sitting directly behind her, that she had removed the engagement ring.

Dad was pissed by the time we got home. I was relieved and ecstatic. Until he stormed off to go get her back.

They were married, lots more drama ensued. Shannon never got over the fact that my older sister wore black to her wedding. I tried to be happy, but she was so good at being fake sweet, and then she'd turn nasty on a dime. 

I'd call and hear her voice every time. I'd cry and she'd yell.

I'd go "home" to see them only to see pictures of their family on the wall. Nary a "family photo" of dad's other children. Just Shannon, Dad, and her 2-3 kids in a very JC Penney-style sitting. She loved to make comments about their "family" time, family dinners, eating out, vacations to see my grandparents, with her kid(s)... She never included me in that time. I was invited over, not for dinner, just over, the night after their "family" dinner. Why she loved to tell me those things, that I don't know. I just see her now as a twisted person because she was hurt and had hurt. She was a victim and an abuser. It's hard to reconcile that, I'm sure. That's the reality for so many abusers, I believe. They were themselves victims, potentially of horrible, unfathomable crimes. 

Check out this video, but you have to watch/listen to the end or it's not worth it, I promise. Trigger warning, this video contains description of violence against children, people, including sexual assault.

So I pitied Shannon and yet still resented her. I didn't fight with her when I went to see my dad for the second to last time before he passed in 2018, but when my sister and I were there to say our goodbyes to dad, we fought. She was feeding the man morphine after saying she would wait. She seemed ready for him to go, even though he was cognizant. But he aspirated on his food and had signed a DNR. Well, she signed his DNR, but I do remember him saying that's what he wanted. It's just that her signature and his inability to confirm that he didn't want a feeding tube in the moment (the poor man literally kept saying he was hungry), was jarring. This was on the heals of her accusing him of cheating on her and doing meth in his day care home. She was so upset at him, but she didn't kill him, not quite.

About six months or more after he passed, Shannon overdosed, potentially accidentally. I still have the last voicemail she left me. After he passed, she tried several times to call me. I never could bring myself to talk to her. I feel guilt about that, but not responsibility, not anymore.

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I carry resentments around with me from the time I was 17... the proverbial rocks she hurled at me, I must've kept them, stored them. I want to let them go. 

Here I go.