My father has never been in the picture. I have vague memories of him, but that is all I have. I have never seen him until now. There has never been any mention of him helping her with my upkeep either. Based on the stories my mother told me about him, I am sure he does not know where I am. I was only four years old when my mother enrolled me in a boarding school at Lapaz. She was too busy working to raise me.
My mother claims that my father mistreated her when they were together, so she left and took me with her. Her family also advised her to change her name to my stepfather’s name when she remarried, so even if he tried to find us, it would be difficult.
The man my mother married made sure I knew I was not his child; even though he gave me his name, he never referred to me as his child. At first, this disappointed me, but eventually, I learned to refer to her as my mother’s husband.
Even though I was young when he came into the family, I knew that my mother was the one providing for the whole family, which is why I could not live with her. She had to work to provide for the numerous mouths that depended on her.
Even though I grew up away from her, I am grateful that she sent me to boarding school because it helped me learn independence at a young age and that experience is the best teacher. Sure, it would have been easier to learn all those lessons from my mother, but I had to grow up and figure things out on my own without her.
One of the lessons I learned is that my mother’s marriage had a lot of problems. I am not sure how deep these issues run but the moment I am home from vacation, things get out of hand. Honestly, I never understood why my mother would stay in a marriage with a man who acts as the head of the family while she is the breadwinner of the family.
He likes to lord over her and constantly remind her that he is the man of the house. Sometimes he would say, “Don’t you know that I am your husband? Don’t challenge me when I ask you to do something.” Maybe after her divorce from my dad, my mother doesn’t want another marriage of hers to collapse. I believe that explains why she puts up with him.
One thing I noticed was that whenever there was a fight at home, this man would always blame me. This is because my mother would sometimes defend me from his insults, and he liked to insult me constantly. He would also use his hands to pick fights with my mother if she tried to step in. I detested it when they fought over me because I was the stepdaughter and the abanoma in the family, so I tried to get used to his insults so my mother would not have to fight my battles on my behalf. This worked and kept the peace until recently.
I am currently twenty-two and a student at a university. Over the Christmas break, I went home and brought some money from school to the house. Since I did not use it, I kept it in my belongings, but when I went to use it, I could not find it. I looked everywhere, but I could not find the money. How can money just magically disappear from my belongings?
To be clear, I did not accuse anyone of stealing the money; rather, I simply complained that it had disappeared. My mother’s husband became enraged upon hearing my complaints and asked, “How dare you talk about losing money in my house? Who are you calling a thief?” When I refused to respond, he struck me and proceeded to beat me until I was completely unconscious.
After he was done, he threw me out of the house. This time, my mother did not step in to stop him; instead, she watched and said nothing. Now that I am stuck, I do not know where I am going to turn for help, and the only place I know is school. If I knew where my father was, I would have gone looking for him. My mother is the only person I can turn to for support, but she has prioritized her marriage over me.
