I hate posting here. I love reading most of the time -- it's just insecurity on my part that prevents me from posting. I'm never quite sure of what I want to say, and I always feel afraid after pressing "Post Message" that it was somehow wrong. I'm the same way in every aspect of communication, really; it's why I'm often so quiet. It just takes a lot for me to open my mouth (when I'm not being stupid).

But that's not the point.

I went on a trip recently. A few of you know that. I met Ellmyruh on the way up, and it was wonderful. There's a picture if she cares to show it (I'm not sure if she does; I don't mind but it's up to her).

But that's not the point either.

I went up to Hood River, Oregon, to visit my family for the Fourth of July holiday (which is also my youngest nephew's birthday). Most of my family (both of my brothers and their wives and children and my mother and I) live here in California, in two neighboring cities. The rest live up in Hood River. At least, most of my mother's side lives down here.

Some of you know about my situation with my father. After my mother had married him sixteen years ago, I was conceived, and it took a few months for him to find out. Mom had my brothers and sister before she had been widowed then later found my father, and he had five children before their mother died. My father wanted no more children.

When he found out, he basically offered Mom two choices: divorce or abortion. I discovered some other things about him on this trip, though.

My father's side of the family lives up in Oregon, in Hood River and the surrounding area. My half-brother by my father, Thane, lives right up the driveway from my sister, Monique, with whom we were staying. Just background info for what I'll get to in a bit.

Mom took me to visit the house she and my father lived in. It was beautiful. However, the stories she told me were not. Apparently, he was your typical rich, cultured man. He liked to go to operas and fancy dinners. Because his children had already grown, he was happy to have the time to do such. He wanted no more children.

When he found out that my mother was pregnant (with me) and that she was not going to have an abortion, he threatened violence. He said he would punch her in the stomach and other such things. This surprised me -- it's one of the few things that my nearly sixty-year-old mother hadn't ever told me. It's no wonder now that my sister hated my father.

I've never seen my father, never talked to him, never even had any proof he was still alive. For all I knew, he died the day after Mom left. Sad as it sounds, this never bothered me. He was never real to me. I've always generally liked my life, however much I disliked its downfalls, and having a whole new side of the family pushing me to be so close so fast was not my idea of helping any situation. I never held a grudge against my father as though it were anything personal. ... He just never was real to me.

Now I'm getting to the point.

Mom, my sister, my nieces, my youngest nephew, and I all went to the Hood River Fourth of July Parade. It was pretty neat. While walking back to my sister's house, we saw Thane (see above) standing in front of his house with his wife and two daughters. I'd never seen him before.

Mom went up to talk with him.

Mom explained to me later that Thane was like my sister. He loved his father, yes, but he disliked him because despite his intellect, my father was an idiot. I say this not because it's me that he wanted to deny the right to live, but because he wanted to deny *someone* (no matter who) the right to live. (Sorry to any pro-choicers out there.)

Anyway, I tried to ignore it, but Mom beckoned me. I walked over. We conversed, and it turned out Thane was pretty nice. Doesn't mean I still don't like my life as is, though.

The conversation, of course, turned to my father.. and Thane went inside to grab something he'd written about ten years ago. Just a quick detailing of his family history.

I read it later. My father certainly had a large vocabulary, that's for sure, and it did mention me once in passing ("one additional phantom," in addition to his five children by his first wife). But it finally gripped me that my father was a real person, a real man who had really married my mother and really, really did want to kill me. *Me.* Little ol' now-sixteen blonde-haired-blue-eyed with a few close friends and crooked teeth *me.*

And now I'm struggling with rejection I should have dealt with years ago -- but how could I have when I never even consciously acknowledged the reality of my situation? I explained it to other people, but it was always nonchalantly. It didn't matter to me. I was fine how I was.

But now I'm feeling it. Those "unwanted children"? I was one. I *am* one. Children living in a broken home? Never occurred to me until now -- but I am one of those.

I'm doing my best now to turn where I should be turning anyway... to the only Father I ever had and ever will have. But I need prayer, because it's hard.

So any of those who pray, please do so. I have a month of nothing to do, and I don't want to spend it sulking. Pray for me to be able to forgive my father, which I never before felt I had to do. Pray for me to be able to heal emotionally quickly.

Thank you.

Ri "And yes, this is my first time posting at forum with my nick capitalized." a