MellowDawn
June 26th, 2014, 12:19 PM
I think you could call this a vent, but you guys a welcomed to give me some advice. Beware, though, this is an extremely long post!
My mom met my step-father in a Yahoo! Chatroom when I was around 4 or 5 years old, and finally met him when I was 6. He lived in a different country, and she went without me, leaving me with my dad. She returned and a few months later went to visit him, but this time she took me with her. This was the first time I've ever seen or spoken to the man behind the monitor. I still remember what I felt when I met him: disfavor.
There was something strange about him at that time, which I later learned that he was (and probably still is) a pornography addict and an online womanizer (which is weird because he's a 200+ pound whale), and probably a bit gay. Yet to everyone, he was the nice guy who always brought dessert and always helped his mother with chores. To my mom he was the love of her life. To me, though? He was nothing but a stranger that my mom liked a lot.
But anyways, at first my disliking wasn't too bad, I only felt strange around him. We left around 2 months after because I was feeling homesick, which had given me a bad case of vomiting and was forced to go back to Texas, despite my step-dad's objection. Though my mom didn't stay away from him long, returning to Jordan, but I stayed behind again. I never really thought about him during the time period between when I was 6 and 9.
In 2010, my mom took me to Jordan and it was declared that the two were officially married. Not only that though, it was also officially that I began to dislike him greatly. I'd shudder every time he smiled at me or even tried to hug me, and I'd always go running to my room and locking the door.
It's 2012 now, and I've been living with the man for 2 years. I'm sure my hate for him grew more after my mother turned out to be pregnant with my little brother. I began to get emotional and I'd start to have mood swings whenever he was around me, which would get worse on my period (obviously). I started feeling as if this stranger was beginning to force himself into my life, trying to take the roll of my father, but I just didn't let that happen. I began crying myself to sleep and refused to ever leave my room if he came back from work, which usually left my mom bringing my food to my room or I leaving my bedroom whenever he and my mom would go to his mother's house.
I barely talked to him and my eyes never left the radioactive screen of my small laptop. He'd try to make me talk with him, but the "conversation" would quickly end whenever I'd respond with an "okay", "huh" or I'd simply pretend that I hadn't heard him before leaving the room.
Things got even more heated a couple of months into my mom's pregnancy. Why? Because she discovered years worth of porn on his laptop, even though it was restricted in the military in Iraq to even access those kind of sites. The relationship between my mother and him was getting pretty rocky, the two fighting nearly every 2 weeks. It just made me hate him more, but also began affecting me because I'd begin crying to myself, wishing I could run away and go back to my biological dad and my older brothers. I'd go to the roof of the apartments (it's flat on the top so you can hang clothes), and I'd imagine myself jumping from the top (it's around 4 or 5 stories high, I don't remember).
Eventually things got slightly better after my brother was born, we moved to a new apartment that his uncle owns; it was up in a mountain and the view was beautiful. I'd like to go outside in the winter and watch the sun set, which would sort of relax me from the tense environment inside the building.
It soon got bad, though. He became lazier than he already was, frequently ordering me to bring him water whenever he was on his computer simply looking at stupid jokes and chatting with his friends. Not only that, he'd ask me to give him the remote, which would just be at the other end of the desk! This only made me angrier with him (and my mom thought I was lazy, hah!).
A couple of months later, mom soon discovered more explicit content on his laptop, so the two began fighting again. I guess I was a little but less effected by their yelling since I'd witnessed it a lot, I suppose. Instead of going outside, I'd now look to the Internet for refuge. With this though, I started getting lazy and I'd began to disobey my step-father. Whenever he'd ask me to do something for me, I'd tell him "get it yourself" which sort lead to him calling my lazy and "being a bitch like your mom."
It's 2013... My mom, little brother and I left to Mexico for 6 months; everything's good. But when we go to United Arab Emirates, that's when my hatred was beginning to take a toll on my attitude to him. Things got really bad within the first few weeks of being with him. My mom found out he was looking for other women on a dating site, finding text messages from 3 different women that he was talking with, one that he was going to meet up with a few days before we arrived.
I quickly became depressed, not eating for majority of the day, crying and sleeping the fights off. I couldn't talk to anyone about what was going on, because my mother warned me not to talk to my dad or my family about what was happening, so I kept it all to myself. My attitude to him was getting nastier, often disobeying him, refusing to do anything he says, and talking crap about him behind his back.
This didn't go unnoticed by my mom, of course. She knew I didn't like him ever since I was 12. She'd ask me why, but I refused to talk to her about it. She always assumed that he was molesting me (that's part of a different story), which she thought was my reason for hating him.
So it's 2014, and I'm 15 now. I still hate him, and I still live with him. Yet we don't talk to each other because I lock myself in my bedroom until everyone goes to sleep. We only have short awkward conversations whenever we're alone, and he's tried to hug me but I always run off. I hate his presence, I hate his voice, I hate everything about him. He gets under my skin very easily these days. He's gotten more obnoxious and lazier, refusing to clean his own son's diaper, but he'll offer food whenever his annoying family members come over to visit for nearly the whole day. I think I've been disrespectful to my mom more these days because she refuses to leave the man I detest the most, and she noticed this too. She told me in the kitchen one day around 2 weeks ago: "I love him, Leslea. You know I do, you know I'd never leave him, even if I threaten him that I will."
Things haven't changed at all, neither has my opinion about him nor my mother's decision about not leaving him. I just wonder what will happen in the future...
My mom met my step-father in a Yahoo! Chatroom when I was around 4 or 5 years old, and finally met him when I was 6. He lived in a different country, and she went without me, leaving me with my dad. She returned and a few months later went to visit him, but this time she took me with her. This was the first time I've ever seen or spoken to the man behind the monitor. I still remember what I felt when I met him: disfavor.
There was something strange about him at that time, which I later learned that he was (and probably still is) a pornography addict and an online womanizer (which is weird because he's a 200+ pound whale), and probably a bit gay. Yet to everyone, he was the nice guy who always brought dessert and always helped his mother with chores. To my mom he was the love of her life. To me, though? He was nothing but a stranger that my mom liked a lot.
But anyways, at first my disliking wasn't too bad, I only felt strange around him. We left around 2 months after because I was feeling homesick, which had given me a bad case of vomiting and was forced to go back to Texas, despite my step-dad's objection. Though my mom didn't stay away from him long, returning to Jordan, but I stayed behind again. I never really thought about him during the time period between when I was 6 and 9.
In 2010, my mom took me to Jordan and it was declared that the two were officially married. Not only that though, it was also officially that I began to dislike him greatly. I'd shudder every time he smiled at me or even tried to hug me, and I'd always go running to my room and locking the door.
It's 2012 now, and I've been living with the man for 2 years. I'm sure my hate for him grew more after my mother turned out to be pregnant with my little brother. I began to get emotional and I'd start to have mood swings whenever he was around me, which would get worse on my period (obviously). I started feeling as if this stranger was beginning to force himself into my life, trying to take the roll of my father, but I just didn't let that happen. I began crying myself to sleep and refused to ever leave my room if he came back from work, which usually left my mom bringing my food to my room or I leaving my bedroom whenever he and my mom would go to his mother's house.
I barely talked to him and my eyes never left the radioactive screen of my small laptop. He'd try to make me talk with him, but the "conversation" would quickly end whenever I'd respond with an "okay", "huh" or I'd simply pretend that I hadn't heard him before leaving the room.
Things got even more heated a couple of months into my mom's pregnancy. Why? Because she discovered years worth of porn on his laptop, even though it was restricted in the military in Iraq to even access those kind of sites. The relationship between my mother and him was getting pretty rocky, the two fighting nearly every 2 weeks. It just made me hate him more, but also began affecting me because I'd begin crying to myself, wishing I could run away and go back to my biological dad and my older brothers. I'd go to the roof of the apartments (it's flat on the top so you can hang clothes), and I'd imagine myself jumping from the top (it's around 4 or 5 stories high, I don't remember).
Eventually things got slightly better after my brother was born, we moved to a new apartment that his uncle owns; it was up in a mountain and the view was beautiful. I'd like to go outside in the winter and watch the sun set, which would sort of relax me from the tense environment inside the building.
It soon got bad, though. He became lazier than he already was, frequently ordering me to bring him water whenever he was on his computer simply looking at stupid jokes and chatting with his friends. Not only that, he'd ask me to give him the remote, which would just be at the other end of the desk! This only made me angrier with him (and my mom thought I was lazy, hah!).
A couple of months later, mom soon discovered more explicit content on his laptop, so the two began fighting again. I guess I was a little but less effected by their yelling since I'd witnessed it a lot, I suppose. Instead of going outside, I'd now look to the Internet for refuge. With this though, I started getting lazy and I'd began to disobey my step-father. Whenever he'd ask me to do something for me, I'd tell him "get it yourself" which sort lead to him calling my lazy and "being a bitch like your mom."
It's 2013... My mom, little brother and I left to Mexico for 6 months; everything's good. But when we go to United Arab Emirates, that's when my hatred was beginning to take a toll on my attitude to him. Things got really bad within the first few weeks of being with him. My mom found out he was looking for other women on a dating site, finding text messages from 3 different women that he was talking with, one that he was going to meet up with a few days before we arrived.
I quickly became depressed, not eating for majority of the day, crying and sleeping the fights off. I couldn't talk to anyone about what was going on, because my mother warned me not to talk to my dad or my family about what was happening, so I kept it all to myself. My attitude to him was getting nastier, often disobeying him, refusing to do anything he says, and talking crap about him behind his back.
This didn't go unnoticed by my mom, of course. She knew I didn't like him ever since I was 12. She'd ask me why, but I refused to talk to her about it. She always assumed that he was molesting me (that's part of a different story), which she thought was my reason for hating him.
So it's 2014, and I'm 15 now. I still hate him, and I still live with him. Yet we don't talk to each other because I lock myself in my bedroom until everyone goes to sleep. We only have short awkward conversations whenever we're alone, and he's tried to hug me but I always run off. I hate his presence, I hate his voice, I hate everything about him. He gets under my skin very easily these days. He's gotten more obnoxious and lazier, refusing to clean his own son's diaper, but he'll offer food whenever his annoying family members come over to visit for nearly the whole day. I think I've been disrespectful to my mom more these days because she refuses to leave the man I detest the most, and she noticed this too. She told me in the kitchen one day around 2 weeks ago: "I love him, Leslea. You know I do, you know I'd never leave him, even if I threaten him that I will."
Things haven't changed at all, neither has my opinion about him nor my mother's decision about not leaving him. I just wonder what will happen in the future...