“You’re such a spoiled brat.
I don’t have time for your petty problems.
I have to take care of myself.”
Those are the words you yelled at me
as I sat in the hall
after you hung up on my friend
who told you I was going to try to kill myself.
Coincidentally,
those are also the words you yelled at me
when I decided that I hated you
because I knew at that point
I could never forgive you.
When I was in the eighth grade,
you made it quite clear
that I was not YOUR child
when you kicked my mother,
my brother and I
out of the house after an argument.
You broke the drawer off,
the one with knives,
in your fury.
I thought you were going to kill her
right in front of me.
You pinned her to the wall
and spat on her face
as you belittled her
and screamed at her
for some stupid little reason.
You told her to take HER kids
and get out.
I wasn’t even allowed
to get my shoes. Or a coat.
We sat in the car
in the driveway
to a house where I grew up
and cried. And cried.
We did not know where to go.
I told my mother to divorce you.
I told we could move in with grandma.
I told her we could come to get our things
once he was at work tomorrow.
She didn’t listen.
I wish she had
because now I am just as damaged.
You welcomed us back
and acted as though nothing was wrong;
that nothing had happened.
You pretended that everything
was the same as always.
But I know better because
the kitchen drawer doesn’t have a handle
9 years.
That’s a long time.
That’s how long I was waiting.
Waiting for you to notice me.
Waiting for you to see me.
Waiting for you to say you love me.
Waiting for you to hear me cry myself to sleep,
maybe on just one of those nights
and to ask me what was wrong.
That’s 3,287 chances you had
and you didn’t use any of them.
So now here we are.
You want to make amends
and try to make it up to me for
all the times you ignored me
when I needed you most;
when you were all that I needed.
But you have damaged me.
I cannot be fixed.
I cannot be retaught that I deserve love
after all the times you showed me I did not.
Because of you, I don’t trust anyone, not even myself.
I can’t stand up for myself.
I can’t do anything.
Because of you, I question my own memories.
I obviously can’t be right
or you wouldn’t be angry.
Because of you, I have anxiety severe enough that I have to receive help for it.
I walk on eggshells so I don’t trip the magic wire
that sets you off on nothing.
Because of you, I’m ashamed to have people come over.
You’re a different person and it breaks me.
Why don’t I deserve that kindness and easy-going?
Because of you, I’m afraid to leave.
I don’t have anywhere else to go.
How do I turn my back on family?
Because of you, I am passive.
I just do what I have to do to be compliant.
I have to protect myself.
Because of you, I cry. A LOT.
Every night for 9 years to be exact.
I wonder what I did to deserve this.
Because of you, I can’t look people in the eye.
They probably think I’m rude, or not paying attention,
but that connection has hurt me many times in the past.
Because of you, I feel powerless.
I fell I have to take it.
I feel like I have no control.
Because of you, I have no self-esteem.
If I don’t and can’t deserve your love,
then who else would ever love me?
Because of you, I fear men.
I can’t have a relationship because what if?
What if they are all the same?
What if they will hurt me too?
What if I can never escape?
I wish I was good enough to deserve your love,
but I’ll always be a pigeon, never a dove.
Nothing quite brings out the “Holiday Feels”
like being the only single one at the table.
Nothing reminds me of the hurt
filling my empty heart
like seeing the love and joy that fills many others.
Nothing brings me such pain
as dreaded questions and comments like
“Why didn’t you bring someone?” or
“Oh, well there’s always next year”.
Nothing brings me such envy
as seeing kisses and tenderness
that I can only imagine in dreams
Nothing brings me the “Holiday Feels”
like being subjected to time with family.
When I was younger,
many years ago,
I found a perfect boy
and I was delighted.
But now here I am,
many years later,
crying over a love
that is unrequited.
Several years ago, during a different time
I was gifted with the name Baffy.
While indeed this was a serious typo
of my actual name, I don’t think it was a mistake.
I like to believe that this nickname is derived
from the verb baffled which means many things.
I am bewildering and perplexing
I am a puzzle and I am confusing.
I mystify and confuse many.
I am all of these things and more.
I am hard to understand
even when I try to make things clear.
Do I baffle you? So what? Get on board.
Doesn’t everyone need a little mystery in their life?
Roses, poems, smiles,
puppies, books, romance, laughs, hugs,
cheesecake and respect.
Guess why I’m writing this poem
And you might succeed. It’s
Because you don’t seem to know my name, which is
Really disappointing.
I’d like to say I’m not upset, but
Even I can’t help but be offended that you haven’t
Learned my name in the
Last fifteen years. But I’ll get over it…
Eventually….
Baffy Basics 