All Monsters Wear Masks
We deserve better than monsters
He was supposed to love me. He was supposed to protect and take care of me. He was supposed to be fun, strong, encouraging, dependable, loving, and wise.
The thing is, he was. He was all of those things and more.
He was also a monster.
I know this, now. But growing up, no matter what he did or how long it was before I heard from him again, I could never seem to let go of my father.
I have both good and bad memories from as young as 4 years old that involve my father. There was the time when I was 5 that my cousin and I had a tea party with him, but we were too little to reach the sink in the bathroom so instead, we used toilet water. We were bring my father cup after cup of “tea” and he was just drinking away! We were talking and laughing. Then, he thought to ask where we were getting our tea from and my cousin proudly exclaimed, “the toilet!” Well obviously, he ran into the bathroom and immediately threw up. But then, he came running after us like a silly dinosaur, roars and all. He chased us all around the house and when he finally caught up, he picked each of us up and tossed us WWE style into the couch, tickling us until we were laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe!
Another time when I was 8, my sisters and I were playing in the basement when he randomly came downstairs, hopped on a bicycle, and started making revving sounds. Naturally, we all took off running and he chased us around on the bicycle, all over the basement, making motorcycle sounds the entire time. We ended up running onto the stairs, thinking we would be safe. Nope! My father rode the bike UP THE STAIRS! Now, he picked the front tire up and came up one step at a time but he chased us all the way to the top. It was hilarious.
My favorite of all happened when I was 10. For several years as a child after my parents separated, we would spend a week in the summer going camping with my father, stepmother, and stepsister. One year, we were all sitting around the fire, laughing and talking. Out of absolutely nowhere, my father jumped up out of his chair, took a few steps back to get a running start then ran straight towards the fire! At the last minute, he jumped into the air and did a James Bond style roll OVER the fire. My stepmother jumped up and yelled “What the hell are you doing?!” My father had his hand cupped and said “Saved ya!” He opened his hand and out flew a little moth. He said the moth was about to fly right into the fire so he saved him!
He was a daredevil. Fearless. He took us on many crazy outdoor adventures and I loved every minute of it.
But, he walked around the house completely naked. I am the youngest of 3 girls and at ages 4, 6, and 10, our father would walk around the house naked and openly touch himself. I have learned as an adult that this is a form of sexual abuse and it is not healthy.
At 5 years old, shortly before we would pack up all of our belongings in trash bags and leave in the middle of the day, my sisters and I were playing in one of our rooms. We were jumping on the bed, jumping off of it, and just horsing around. My oldest sister slid underneath the bed and us other two were jumping on top to see if we could squish her (I know, what a game to play!) My father came barreling into the room, grabbed my sister by the ankle and yanked her so hard out from underneath the bed that she hit her head on a screw, busted it open and was bleeding everywhere. He screamed in her face and then made all 3 of us head to the living room. He got out his belt, and one by one made us lean over the arm of the couch, pants down, and beat us. This was not the only time but it is the only one I will describe.
When I was 9, our dog at my mother’s house had a litter of puppies and my father took one of the puppies. He was adorable and we loved him so much! But, one day he peed in the house, right on the carpet. My father picked the puppy up and threw him down the basement stairs into a cement wall. I can still hear that puppy yelp. We were not allowed to check on him or pick him up. Amazingly, but maybe unfortunately, he survived the fall and the crash.
So, you get the pictures, right? He was verbally, physically, and sexually abusive. But I loved him! I would beg my mother to let me call him or go to his house. As soon as I left from a weekend visit, I couldn’t wait to go back again. Even though, I wet the bed once when I was 7 years old so he made me sleep pants-less, on a trash bag on the floor, with no blanket. I still wanted to go back.
He would be present for a few months at a time and then completely ghost us. We went years at a time without any contact at all. He forgot almost every birthday. He missed cheerleading games, school events, graduations, weddings. And even though I was never surprised by his absence, I was hurt by it every single time. I mean, this is my father. This is one of the people who are biologically programmed to love me. How could he not? How could he not be there for every minute of my life? What did I do? What was wrong with me that I wasn’t worth sticking around for?
Well, the answer is: I did absolutely nothing wrong. There is nothing wrong with me. I am not and never was the problem, he is. It wasn’t a privilege for me to be a part of his life, it was a privilege for him to be a part of mine! He never deserved any of the time he got with me, or my sisters.
So why, knowing all of this and experiencing all of the bad that came with being a part of his life; why the fuck would I still miss him and want to be around him?
Because all monsters wear masks.
Read that again. That sentence changed my life.
All monsters wear masks.
The reality of it all hit me like a ton of bricks. My father is a monster. He would sprinkle in the good memories to make me forget about the bad memories. He would laugh, play, and love to cover up his neglect and abuse.
Enough was enough.
2.5 years ago I made the decision to cut him off. We hadn’t spoken in 4 or more years at this time anyway. But I cut him out of my life, my mind, and most importantly, my heart. It has been a difficult road that I am still traveling down to this day but until I die, that man will never again have access to me or my life, and never to my children.
He is the man that fathered me.
That’s it.
He is not my dad, he is not my father. He is just, unfortunately, the monster who helped to create me.
But thank God he did. Because I am a great person. Despite everything I’ve been through, despite his every effort to break me. I am a good person and I am a great wife and I am a fantastic mom.
If you are struggling and torn on how to feel about a loved one whom resembles mine in any way, I am sending you love and peace. I hope that you manage to make the realization that I did and can embark on a journey of healing as well. We deserve more than monsters. ❤️
About the Creator
Kelsi Smoak
Stay at home wife & mama navigating life with a sailor’s mouth & permanent messy bun 💙 Working towards finding inner peace, loving myself, and healing from trauma through writing.
Comments (1)
I had imagined that your father's nature would be different from your mother's, as is often the case. Unfortunately, you were mistreated by both of them. This goes against the natural order of things.