I have had an Esty shop for a while now, and have been
starting to fill it with items. I have always been pretty creative, but this is
the first time I am really trying to make something out of it.
It’s weird in the sense that I am taking pride in something.
Surprising, possible something that people around me, is that I don’t have much
pride in myself. It is something that I felt has always been an issue, since
childhood, but there seems to be no way to fix it. After all, there isn’t a
magic spell that just gives you pride, or a workshop that the end that just
gives you the feeling that you need.
On some level, I have always felt kinda worthless. I think
this really stems from the fact for most of my childhood, I bounced from a
loving home to an abusive one. This seemed to have colored my whole life. My
mom and Step-Dad B, have always been there for me, being the best parents to me
as they could, and really worked on giving me a happy life. Then there is the
other side of my life. My stepmother, the woman my mom and I would end up
calling the witch with a b, was awful to me.
I don’t know what I did to make it start. When she was dating my father,
things were great. My step-sister A and I were friends before they dated, and
we enjoyed the idea of being sisters. It started out as something great and
wonderful. But after they got married, something changed. I was an outsider. I
was a spot of dirt on her clean floor. It felt that the very air I was
breathing was somehow offensive to her. It was hard walking into that war zone
every week. And most of the anger I have over this is too my father. The fact
that he never protected me, isn’t that what a parent is supposed to do? Protect
their child from thing that are trying to hurt them? Was I not worth
protecting? My father never protected me from the abuse. There was a moment that
he watched her shove food in my mouth and threaten to beat the shit out of me
if I tried to spit it out. She held my mouth close, and let’s get one thing
straight. I could have choked. She could have caused me to choke in front of my
father. She told me my mother didn’t love me. One mother’s day I had gotten her
and my mom the same card. I wrote mom on the one to my mom and step mom on the
one to her because I had wrote them both personal notes in them and the witch
with a b got upset. She wanted me to call her mom. But she wasn’t my mom. Remember
asking if my mom was okay with me calling her mom, because I didn’t know what
to do. She acting like I was a sexual rival for my father’s attention.
And he let it happen.
He never stood up for me. I was worthless to him too. He never stood up for me.
I would come home to my mom’s house so angry. I felt I deserved
at least some of my father’s love but I was always in the back seat of his
mind. I think he had the motto when it came to me, that someone else would take
care of Skadi. That I wasn’t worth his time, and this shows in the fact that by
the time I was ten, he had stopped paying his child support. I guess he didn’t
see it worth it to make sure I had a roof over my head and food in my mouth,
because my mom and my Step-dad, B, were picking up his slack. C, my Fiancé said
it best, B is my dad in every damn way that counts. That brings me to my quote
in the title, I think it sums up my relationship with my father completely.
And that is one of the things on my mind right now. How can
I have pride in myself, when my own father doesn’t think that I’m worth it.
-Skadi
