My mother once told me “ Anger was the tip of the iceberg”, she said this to me as I hurled a photograph of my father holding me as an infant to the ground so I could watch it smash into a million jagged pieces. I didn’t understand what she said. But then again when your father leaves his family for another married woman he met on your younger brothers science trip, not a lot makes sense. So to cope you go through “phases”.


Phase ONE : Hiding.

Your body is prepared for life’s natural pain, the pain of scratched knees and stubbed toes, what I felt was my world imploding. The pain was so surreal that I doubted if it really existed. So when it finally caught me, it gagged me, tied me to a chair, hid me in a closet and left me for dead. It replaced me with a shadow of who I was. I lurked through my house, concealed in darkest corners, shrinking into nothing. Beneath the ground, deep in my basement, I hid, to cry and mourn the loss of my youth and my father. You see when my dad left he took with him my n