I Am Mrs. Clemenson Now

This time of year is always hard on me. Most recently, this is the time of year I got my cancer diagnosis and had my last fight with my father when I told him that I had cancer, instead of letting him hear it through the grapevine. This is the anniversary of when I knew I had to make the break permanent with him. I know one of my siblings will make sure that certain people will see this blog. That is what they do. They enjoy the chaos and competition of our father’s house. And I am glad to let them have it. I think part of my problem is that I haven’t found a name I want to call them. I don’t know if I want to refer to my father by his full name or more casual and I am Mrs. Clemenson now. His second wife can’t have my name. The only person I share that name with is my wife; my one and only wife. I guess my father’s second wife can be Ms. Colvin.

I still have lots of feelings about having to let some of my family go, especially my father. I am his first born. He chose his second wife over me so many times. That last fight, I am sure, was instigated by her. It was an old topic. It was stupid. But it made me choose me, because I finally knew he was never going to.

For the first time, my choice was completely about me knowing I had to choose peace over the chaos that comes with his house. I have spent a lot of my life scared because of his house. The constant competition was something that was confusing at least. It is something I am newly mourning because I am realizing that the voice of my father’s second wife and my own mother have been confused in my mind throughout my life and I am sad because I know, now, that I have held my mother accountable for things she didn’t do.

Without the chaos of them, without the constant pressure of competition that one sibling brought back to our home, with our mom, my mom and I are finding an ability to communicate like we never had before. I remember watching my mother with her friends and even telling one of her friends that I wish I knew that Joanne, and her friend understood me. But now I am getting to know her and she is my mom, and I know she likes me. I never felt that before. She was too busy and stressed out before.

She keeps saying she was a bad mom. I don’t respond because I can’t change the tape in her head; I have tried. But I know she was the best mom she could be. She needed help. There is a reason why it takes two people to make a baby. Children need lots of support and they aren’t supposed to be raised by one person alone. I know my father left her with 3 kids. I know he had quit paying the mortgage months before he left. I know he controlled all the money and he put my mom down all the time, I heard the fights on the other side of my bedroom wall. I know he was unfaithful to his marriage to my mom and to our family. I know we were on public assistance while he was taking his second wife to Disneyland every year and complaining about $600 a month for child support. I know his second wife hated my Grandpa Bill and Nana because they saved us from her abuse.

I know Ms. Colvin continued to abuse my mother when she got the chance. Because she is a bad person. There are things I have done, throughout the time I was 9 through 39, when I allowed her in my life, she didn’t understand and when she asked me why I did those things, my answer was because my mom would have done this, or my nana would have done this. Because my mom was taught to be a good mom, by her mom, my nana.

The last time I communicated with my father was in a letter. I apologized to him for my response to him, bringing up a topic that was outdated and none of his business, when I had called to tell him I had cancer. My anger was not wrong, but my words were and I felt he deserved an apology for my disrespect. I also told him I no longer wanted to be his daughter. I didn’t want to be in his will. I want nothing from him. I want no contact from him. Because he and I communicate in similar language, I expected him to respect my wishes.

A week or so after my Grandpa Bill died, I got a letter from Ms. Colvin. I didn’t read the entire letter. It was terrible. I tore it up. I did not respond.

I spent so many years trying to be a friend to Ms. Colvin. I don’t need to list any of her sins. If you know her, you know her. I do believe she encourages the worst in my father and her narcissism has attached itself accordingly.

In this part of my life, I am grateful to know what is important to me more than ever. My peace and health are paramount. Understanding that I get to choose, even when I am depressed, I get to choose, is an important tool. I get to choose people that want the best for me, people that help me choose positivity, health and joy are important. Major Depressive Disorder isn’t a death sentence or a punishment, for some of us, it is just a state of being, that we have to work through. My father used to emotionally abuse me for the entire trip from Longview to Yakima and then be angry at me because I was depressed during our visit. What a creep. Of course I don’t want to be around him. No wonder I have PTSD.

There was a trip where I had had enough and when he pulled over to get gas, I told him I was done. I wanted to call my mom and have her come get me. I wasn’t going to be abused for the whole trip again. Things changed a bit. Between my father and I, things got better but it got worse between Ms. Colvin and I. Maybe things got better because he didn’t have to pay child support for me anymore…Because money is very important to him. They must have known this day would come. They must have known that I would find my voice and I would tell the truth.

By the way, to all the people that have been told otherwise, I have paid back every loan I have ever got from my father. The last one I even paid interest on, which he didn’t ask for. When he offered to give it back to me, I told him to never talk to me about it again, because Ms. Colvin had made sure to abuse me and my nephew at the same time via text message and it was a terrible experience. They are the reason for my phone phobia.

Truth is important. Some things are harder to heal than others and I am honest with God.

“For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light.” – Ephesians 5:8

I have forgiven a lot. But I have not forgotten. I still hate Ms. Colvin. My mom told me she likes the term “severe resentment.” That made me giggle a little because I know she was trying to help me feel better, when it means the same thing. I appreciate that she was not critical of me; that she understood that I talk with God about this a lot. That she knows that I am having trouble giving God my pain and not taking it back.

I’m telling my story not just for me, but for anyone else who needs to see what it looks like to learn how to choose life. It doesn’t look the same all the time. I have changed. My views and memories have changed, my hopes and aspirations and opinions have changed. There are things I have let go of and will let go of, as soon as I am able to because they don’t serve me. I am always changing. I don’t miss my father, his second wife and my two older sisters because in all their anger, nothing changes because nothing is forgiven.

I do ache for my nieces and nephews but maybe one day they will choose to remember their Auntie Summer. Not the quiet one that sat in the corner at family functions, but the one that played with them in their bedrooms and took them on adventures because that was the real me. The woman that is a good writer, a good speaker, a lover of people, even broken ones because I can empathize with people that hurt and have been left alone or hurt too much.

The people I left behind can’t possibly understand that I still love them and pray for them. That just because I don’t like them and know they are unhealthy for me, doesn’t mean I don’t want them to be happy and healthy. Mom and I were talking about that. I told her, I trust them all with God. He made them. He knows what they need and want. He can love them best because I can’t trust them…Especially you, Shannon.

I put a lot of thought into that last sentiment. I keep thinking of that time at the mall with Nana and Mom, when I was about 8 and you were about 4-years-old and you kept putting your head under that dressing doors to watch me change and no matter how I complained you kept tormenting me, until I stood on your head…You have always required me to go to extreme measures to get you to leave me alone.

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Feel free to leave your comments below!

My name is Summer. That is how you can call me. I hope that I am a blessing to you. I am not perfect. I will fall again. But I am forgiven. For anyone reading this that isn’t a Christian, unapologetically, I am a Jesus Follower, but I believe there is room for lots of beliefs and religions in the world. It is not my intent to offend people with different beliefs than I have and I would be open to open-minded conversations with no goals of changing anyone’s mind, but sharing information. If you are interested in becoming a Jesus Follower…Do you know Jesus? Do want the Holy Spirit to fill you and give you understanding and salvation? Ask Him. Want someone to pray with you? Contact me.

If you would like to know Jesus as your friend, but want to make this amazing commitment by yourself please pray something like this: Thank you Jesus that You are the Son of God, the God that created heaven and earth. Thank you Jesus that You came to earth in the form of a man so that You would be able to empathize with my humanity. Thank You that You did this in order to fulfill the promises You made at the foundation of the world. I realize that I am a sinner and do things that hurt myself and keep myself away from you. Thank You that You died for my sins so that You could defeat death and bring me into Your life. Please forgive me. I ask You to be Lord of my life. I ask you to heal my hurts and show me what my new life, empowered by You looks like. Thank You for Your mercy.

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