They said he tried to kill himself. They said he tried to kill my mother. They said he was almost beaten to death. They say he used to beat us when we were little. They say he was once a monster. But now they tell me he has changed a lot since then. 

I call that man my father. He's my blood, and I am his. I love dearly. I will always love him. I don't want to believe a word she told me. My dad is my dad, and I will always have his back. 

When I was only nine years old, they told me that he had tried to kill himself. They told me he went out to the barn, tied a rope to a bean pole from the ceiling, stood on a chair, and tried to hang himself. Why they told me this, I'm not sure. Maybe it was because they were trying to tell me that my dad didn't want us. That he was going to leave us because he's a bad guy. I don't believe that. 

I was only ten years old when they told me that he had tried to kill my mother. She told me that my father had parked his car outside our house, and waited for my mom to get home from work. That he sat in his car and had his gun loaded and everything. I guess my aunt stopped him from killing her. She asked him why he would do that. And he said because he wanted us. My aunt then replied, “you do realize, that if you kill their mother, you will be in jail, and the girls would have no one. You do realize that don’t you?” So here we are, my mother is still alive, and my father isn’t in jail.

When I was eight, they told me that my father was almost murdered. Beaten to death. They said a drug dealer came over and started beating the crap out of him because he hooked up with the druggies girlfriend. Now I know my dad, and I know that my dad would never sleep with a girl who was married, or in a relationship. That much I do know.

When I was either seven or eight, they told me that my father had beaten us when we were little. I knew from the minute they told me that, that that was a lie. That’s a fact. Or at least I think it is. I don’t remember my father every hitting me or anything like that. My father wouldn’t hit me. Would he?

They told me that when he did all of these things, “he was a monster. Don’t worry though. He’s better now. He’s taking his pills, and everything is okay now. He’s so much better. I’m so glad he isn’t like the way he was when we were married.”

I’ve come to realize, that my father was never the monster. It was her. She lied to me about all of those things. My father was never a bad guy. Yes he grew up with a hard life, yes he got mad and would lash out, but that doesn’t make him a monster. It never did make him one. The only one who was a monster was her. My mother was the monster all along.

I love her dearly, don’t get me wrong. But why on earth, would she make me grow up thinking my father was the bad guy? That is the only thing I don’t understand, and I guess I never will.