Epiphany

One eye to God’s kingdom

The other eye to earth

Two eyes. Two different worlds.

The larger story is fucked up.

Made for TV?

The guides say so.

I’m just going to write the story.

Walking thru the wallpaper?

Yeah, that’s a made-for-TV moment.

It was incredible, actually.

So memorable, I want to repeat it for my kid.

The abused adopted brother.

The went-to-jail child molester brother-in-law of evil stepmother.

The pedophile uncle, brother of stepmother.

The sexual assault.

Let be me more clear. My sexual assault.

The one where she told me he was sick

And then manipulated me into not sharing the story.

My father knew something was wrong.

He locked eyes with me when I got out of the car.

But he did nothing. He didn’t ask me directly.

Did he send her to talk to me?

I would like to believe he did.

Should I tell the part where I cut dad off?

And he didn’t go to my wedding.

Or know about my kid. (At least I think.)

The parties?

The almost dying.

Drowning.

Car accidents. None my fault.

The drinking. And drugs. Weed mostly. But shrooms too.

The emotionally-abusive mother.

The one who, some near 30 years later, said to me “I always wondered if it was a soccer coach” … after I told her of the assault.

I told her everything. Almost every detail of the story.

What I didn’t prepare for was her narcissistic rage, betrayal and humiliation.

We put a triggering event seemingly into perspective. But she seemed …cold.

And then she sliced me like never before.

I confronted her once.

Told her that if she truly meant that, that meant she didn’t get me help when I was a child,

And didn’t offer me help when I told her a year earlier as an adult.

Dad’s aneurysm.

The one where I knew he’d survive.

Though I didn’t mention that part in my writing about it.

My premonition dreams.

The one that saved my life.

It was terrifying when it happened

And helped me learn about my gift.

Epiphany.