Personal Narrative: Dale, My Father

Insults‒wounding and vindictive, but powerful. Hearing humiliating remarks hurled left and right while walking down the hallway cues waves of desolation and knees soon feel like Jell-O. Those remarks fired, however, came from irrelevant individuals; but what if they came from a loved one? Their impact instantly solidifies and sinks in like cement. An individual that was supposed to provide care, support, and love, instead provided insecurity and hatred. Dale, my “father,” was an alcoholic. And when he became intoxicated, hurled insult after insult that later caused insecurity after insecurity. Because Dale never provided the comfort I craved; I found what he lacked in a gray stuffed animal, Kitty, that linked me to my mother. That simple stuffed …show more content…
He hurled hammers at her head because she would not give him the money set aside for my vaccine. He threw her into a glass coffee table because she would not let him drive her car - drunk. With three children under the age of four, my mother made the courageous, and best, decision to leave Dale. Their divorced finalized when I was six months old and because their marriage ended shortly after my arrival, I have no recollection of them together. I have no recollection of a happy family. I have no recollection of a consistent father figure. But the real question - did these things ever exist in my family?
During the divorce, the court decided that every other weekend my siblings and I would spend with Dale. With Dale’s abusive, alcoholic and incarceration history, the court also decided that visitation was at the discretion of my mother. If my mother knew that Dale’s drinking worsened, she would make the decision that Dale could not take us for that …show more content…
Dale’s comments on my weight lead me to an eating disorder. Because we have the same eyes, every time I looked in the mirror his words came back to me. I saw his face. I heard his voice. I would look in the mirror and could hear him saying “you’re worthless” and “your weight split the floorboard” and “nobody will ever love you” and “you need to lose weight.” So I did. I began eating a one cosmic brownie a day - 290 calories and that was it. If I ate something else, I hated myself for it. I felt weak. I felt hopeless. I felt worthless. All of Dale’s insults became my reality and I had nothing. The weight was not coming off no matter how little I ate and every time I stepped on the scale and saw no change all I read was