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Why did he… Why did she

About a year ago I went to a psychic and she told me both of my grandmothers were dead.  Now it is true that my grandmother on my mother’s side is deceased; I hadn’t talked to my grandmother on my father’s side for about two years. When I tried to call her, her number was no longer in service. I was bothered that no one from my father’s family had bothered to reach out to let me know, if this indeed was true.  So I started the process of trying to locate that side of the family.

As a little background, I am not close to my biological father and his family for whatever reason.  I never really tried to figure it out; I just knew it was because of my mother and things that happened before I was born.  My biological father was never there…. I can count maybe 10 times I have seen him in my lifetime.  He never tried to connect, and blamed my mother for the lack of connection.   My mother was more than happy to bash him my entire life.  Her mantra was “David isn’t shit”.  “As far as she is concerned he is dead…. He got hit by a car.”  My mother later married my step dad and he pretty much was my dad in the truest sense.  Although they are divorced at this time, my step dad is the man that raised me. I hate using the term “step” but to make things less confusing I will use it to differentiate between two during this story.

I don’t have anything positive to say about my mother… So I will keep my thoughts of her to a minimum.  When I think of her I tear up and ask, “God why?”  My mother was mentally abusive.  I believe that she thinks that since she fed me and put clothes on my back that I should be grateful to her; however that doesn’t change the fact that she was abusive.   One thing I am sure of is mother hates me.  All mothers don’t love their children… she hates me because I didn’t turn out to be the cash cow that she had planned.  Again, “God why?”

The psychic’s words prompted me to try and track down my father’s side of the family to see if it was true that my grandmother was dead.  During my search, I found out unexpectedly that there was a chance that my father may not be my real father.  In that moment for the first time I felt as if something made sense.  My mother is very money driven; it is her motivation for waking up in the morning, but she never went after my father for child support.  She made it seem like she was this independent woman.   She didn’t need any man to help her raise her child.  My mother and I went through some really rough times.  We were homeless at one point because she had fallen out with everyone in my family.  We were sleeping on her friends couches.  While going through these bad times she never went to my father for any type of assistance. Now this was an open contradiction to the advice I often witnessed.  She would tell other women to go after the fathers of their children for money.

When the tip came back that he might not be my father I just gasped and somewhere beyond my soul produced tears.  It all made sense…  I remember as a child asking my mother why I didn’t look like anyone.  I have these very unique features that neither my dad nor my mom has.  When I questioned innocently as a child; my mother snapped at me and said “You get your eyes from me!”   My eyes change colors and my hair is blond.  Specifically as a child the hair on top of my head was blond but became darker as I got older.  Now as an adult my hair is turning back blond and sprouting out platinum streaks.  No one in my family has these features.  It all began to make sense…

I started trying harder to find my father so that I could find out the truth.  Along the way more and more information started coming out about my mother.  Horrible things were shared and I didn’t care to validate their truthfulness.  I wanted to keep this about tracking my father down.  Along my search it was revealed that my biological father never believed that I was his child.  He had told everyone who would listen that I was not his child.  This is when I began to experience anxiety attacks… this search grew difficult.  I began to pray to God asking him should I continue with this search.  So many bad things were being revealed, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle anymore.

The next revelation was the name of the man everyone had believed to be my father Joe Smiley.  That name was very familiar to me.  I remember as a child he was an older man, a sugar daddy type.  He was always around my aunt and my family.  I don’t remember his face.  Those close to my mother said that Joe Smiley and she had an affair.  Joe Smiley has blond hair, and from what I am told he has my eyes.  The problem is Joe Smiley has been dead for 10 years.  I don’t know much except that he was a military veteran, he worked on the railroad in Los Angeles, and that he is originally from Texas.  He has at least one son.  Since I had limited information regarding Joe Smiley, I decided to continue my search to find the man I believed to be my father.

I flew to California to see if I could visit my grandmothers last known place of residence, and ask her neighbors if they could provide any information.  I was happy to find out that she was not deceased, but she was suffering from Alzheimer’s.  I went for a visit and was able to finally track down my father via phone the day before I was supposed to return back to New York.  During our conversation, he agreed to have the paternity test.  He stated he had tried years ago but my mother had refused.  I didn’t give him any specifics as to why I wanted to take the test… because I knew my mother as many things, but never as a whore.  Again, this wasn’t about her, it was about my truth.  My father attempted to pump me for information… but I didn’t owe him any.  He wasn’t there for me.  This was not only a scandal, this was my life.  He didn’t offer to pay for the paternity test.  The man I knew to be my father is both the victim and perpetrator in this situation.

I had to wait a couple of weeks to come up with the money for the paternity test.  Once I was ready, my father had become difficult to find.  It was as if he had changed his mind and no longer wanted to take the test.  All of a sudden he was too busy to meet up with the witness to take the test.  I had to enlist another family member to help persuade him to submit to the test.  Once he took the test, it was I who had a hard time submitting.  Something inside of me didn’t want to move forward.  I don’t know what it was… but during that period I spent a lot of time crying, having anxiety attacks, and trying to figure out what I wanted the end result to be.  Finally, a family member had to intervene to get me to submit to the test.  I didn’t know what I wanted the end result to be.  If he was my father, what could he have said to make up for 31 years of neglect?  If he wasn’t my father, what could I say?!  Either way I am fucked.  I carry this man’s name.  He gave me my first name as well.  I would be a fraud.

The paternity test results came back two weeks later and in the moment that I read the results I realized that I wanted him to be my father.  For what it’s worth… I would rather have a dead beat, than no father at all.  I would rather have this father, than to know my mother was a whore who slept with married men. Anything other than know my mother lied to me my whole life and made me believe that a man who was not my father abandoned me.  For the record that really fucks with a person when they believe their parent abandoned them.  Regardless if it is true or not; you have the lifelong need to please people, to do whatever it takes to get them to stay.  It’s harder to just let go with others, when you have a mother screaming about your father, “He didn’t want us”.

I am worse than a bastard.  The paternity results revealed he was not my father.

It has been three weeks since I have learned about this… my truth.  The first thing I did was tell everyone.  I just felt the need to expose the truth.  I told everyone in my family.  If I had the money I would post it in the LA Times.  If I didn’t have respect God and my church… I would post it in the church bulletin.  I haven’t spoken to my mother yet… I need to stop crying about the situation first.  Once I get to that point, I can have a conversation.  I just feel such deep sorrow right now.  Something is broken, and I cannot fix it.  I am dealing with the fact that I am something used to get back at someone else.

Every time someone asks me my name I die inside.  I have no name, I am just a fraud.  I am trying to cope with this, but I don’t know how.  All anyone can say is what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. I feel like this did kill me.  I am not a victim, I am a nightmare.  I feel such anger.  Mostly, I just find myself crying a lot.

Blog Essay: Why did he… Why did she

Essay: Why did he… Why did she

17 thoughts on “Essay: Why did he… Why did she”

  1. Pingback: Tweets that mention Essay: Why did he… Why did she | Kitty Bradshaw --

  2. damn. that's real shit right there. i don't want to feed you some "oh it will get better" or "maybe its for the best" type shit. after reading that all i am reminded of my mother who never met her father and it wasn't until recently that we found out although she was raised mexican her dad definitely is not. That kind of thing does totally fuck with a person, esp once you reach a certain age. keep your head up kitty. One day you will find clarity.

  3. Wow! I'm speechless. I came to your post not knowing what to expect but I can honestly say I respect you more for divulging such intimate details about your life beyond the blog and the lady we've grown to luv on Twitter. Although you may not see it this way, you just revealed to the world how strong you really are. Let your tears be the fuel to gas up your phenomenal brand. You are really someone special.

  4. I am really sorry to hear this about you. I wish that there was something that could be said to releave you of this weight on your back but there isn’t. I would say that don’t you blame yourself for this at all. For whatever reason your mom & biological didn’t work out, she should of told you the truth. It’s not right or fair for you to have held such anger to this man that’s not who you though he was. I have found that these kind of thing have happened to a lot of people. My cousin found out years ago that the man she always had called dad isn’t her dad. She’s actually the cousin of her mother’s husband’s cousin who she slept with while her husband went off to war. These kind of things can just fuck with someone’s psyche. If you really want an answer, even if its just for your piece of mind, is to have the man who you think is your real dad body exzumed. But one way or another, you should realize that no matter what, you are a great person. You have been living & growing for 31 years. Don’t let this ruin your life.

  5. Wow. Well first let me say thank you for being so open and honest with your readers about this very private and emotional matter going on in your life. Most people wouldn't have the courage to share something so deep.

    I'm sure you've heard "sorry" many times during this process so I won't be repetitive. What I will say is you are not a fraud. Even though the man who gave you your name, the man whose name you carry is not your biological father, that doesn't make you or your name a fraud. Even if he was your biological dad, he wasn't there to mold and shape you into the woman you are today….you did. He didn't make the name you carry, the name people recognize, the name people ask about….you did. Neither of your parents did (according to your story). Parents can only lay claim to the name that they helped nurture and create, they did no such thing, matter of fact it was their lack of the former that helped guide you into becoming bigger and better than what they showed you throughout your life.

    You and your name are examples of what a person can be despite the odds. An inspiration to someone feeling and living just like you, they see hope and light at the end of the tunnel when they see you and read your name…. and that's no fraud, that's very real.

    Again, thanks for sharing…prayers & blessings your way.

  6. Kitty, It is so healing for you to get this out of your system. It it good to talk about it!We are all human and have broken places.

    Keeping this pain inside may have manifested itself into some form of illness.

    You are not broken, not a fraud, and not a nightmare.

    The truth was hidden from you.I experienced a hidden truth about my brother after he passed. I was torn apart and could not even ask him why.I know it is a crushing blow and such a feeling of helplessness.Two years have passed and God and time has given me peace.

    Kitty,this too shall pass.Take time to heal.The Lord will sustain you.You are smart,strong,progressive,and such an inspiration to so many!You are MORE than a name… Good thoughts, Helen

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  8. You know Kitty. I don't know my biological parents, and I am fine with that. You just have to let some things go. It's hard, but at least you have a step dad that cares about you. Some people have nobody but themselves. Stay strong.

  9. Wow. Just wow! I have to say, I'm new to your blog and stopped by to see what you were all about and this took me by surprise. At first, I thought some things should be personal and you divulged all here. But on second thought, i respect you for that. And writing for you must be a great way of giving you some form of peace as it is for me. I wish you the best! I really do although I'm not sure what the best is. I can only imagine what you must be going through. My advice…pray. God has a way of telling us who we are when we feel we have no identity.

  10. wow just reading your story im sitting here crying. I have followed you on twitter and always enjoyed your tweets now I know 1 reason I can connect so well is because I have a similar story it sucks and i havent gotten as far as you have but YOU ARE someone! you are a great person and cant be defined by something that happen before you were born

  11. Kitty, I must say it is very courageous of you to share such intimate information about your life but it's good you could release it by writing about it. Writing is cathartic and emotionally freeing. Do know however, that you have some kindred spirits…..people whose family situation is just as dysfunctional. I won't go into detail about my life because right now it's about you. Just wanted to share that you are not alone…..keep on fighting… WILL get better.

  12. I just want to reach through my screen and give you a BIG hug! I admire you blogging about this even in your life because it gives others to courage to do the same. You are strong and admirable! I completely understand, sympathize and relate to your experience. Things will get better love!

  13. YOU, despite what that mirror might reveal looking back at you, are a pillar of strength. YOU, can only fathom, how putting your pain onto paper, has eased the aching of those who can't transcribe their feelings into legible pieces of art such as this. THIS is all part of YOUR purpose.

  14. regardless of what was added to make you. YOU equal what you want. NO matter where you came God has an intention for you that your mother and unknown father is not included. It was made that way.

    Know that you are here with reason. And no matter the recent discovery you have LIFE!

    Tears are for the dry you place one foot in front of the other and continue to build as HARD as you already have.

    NO ONE CAN LIVE IN THE PAST or make up for simple minds.

    (BTW, this was my first time to the site, and I respect and appreciate the realness)

    peace n love…

    hit me if you like to chat..

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