The Cage You Have Made

Addiction is a cruel spinning web. It absorbs and ensnares the one trapped. It also can have the same effect on those who care about the addict. Unfortunately I have witnessed being the latter, and the poetic prose shared in the picture is something I wrote. This is because what I have experienced, and during that time I was so wrapped up in that web, that I had a hard time getting the sticky threads unfurled. I loved my dad, still do, always will, but his metaphorical cage really made things hard on me mentally and emotionally. I will share the rest of the song I wrote, but for now, let’s just take a look at that part of my life.

Now, my dad always wasn’t that addict in my eyes. No. When I was much younger he was my Daddy. No more, no less, and that’s how things should have always been. Before he locked himself in his cage and tossed the key, he would have given me the world if he had the chance. He had numerous jobs, but a good handful of them were a delivery truck driver. Often He would ask me to tag along, and we could spend some quality time together. I remember him pulling his thumb out when we crossed the street, so I could hold it and be safe. As a young child I loved to play music. I remember playing on the piano at the restaurant my mom worked at. We also had a couple keyboards. Another thing my dad did with me when I was younger was check out garage sales and pawn shops. Sure, what we got didn’t cost much, but we had fun looking for treasures. I saw an electric organ once. Of course me, being a curious little tyke I was curious and started to play with it. The next day I come home from school and this organ is sitting in my room. I really should have kept playing music because not to brag I had a great ear for it. I was of course little, but I could replay a very close rendition of a song by ear. One handed, but still so close to the song it was almost incomparable. I still remember how to one hand the titanic song. Seeing as we were lower middle class, lessons were unaffordable. I became self taught by reading scales learning the keys, and just by twinkling those ivories myself. I never really improved my talent, but I guess it’s never too late. I can still read scales as well, so it’s not completely lost to me. My dad loved music as well, so I feel like he wanted me to learn. He had an imaculate collection of the great classics. Cassettes and vinyls from Black Sabbath to Pink Floyd. From Supertramp to Johnny Cash. He loved his collections, and often added to it when we went on our treasure hunts.

Things appeared to go downhill when my Opa got lung cancer. At least that’s how my memory serves me. Opa is Dutch for Grandpa. My dad’s parents are from Holland. Anyways, my dad didn’t seem to take the news very lightly. My parents went to visit Opa and Oma (dutch for Grandma) during this time to visit while they still had time. Me and my older sister stayed home. My mom says my dad was using while he was staying there. Him and my aunts ex husband (then husband) were cooking up meth in Oma and Opa’s basement. Now my Oma, well nothing can get passed her. She noticed what they were doing and asked. The response she got was an experiment. What does Oma do. She offers to help, by pouring vinegar on the white powder they had. Yeah, she’s awesome! Naivety? Not a trait Oma has. I can just imagine her right now all nonchalant “oh here, this will help your experiment.” *pours vinegar smugly*

“Hold up,” You might be thinking.”His father is on his death bed and here he is, attempting to get high on crank. Well WTF.”

And yes, you are correct. He should have never tried, but I assume my dad carried a lot of guilt. You see, when he was a teenager he got in an accident. After that he kind of just took off with no words to his family. He hitchhiked from Ontario to the western side of Canada. I think, that maybe he had some guilt for leaving. Now his father was dying, and he hasn’t been there for him much. He missed out on time with his dad. He was already burdoned with a heavy guilt already, and maybe Opa’s cancer was that final nudge into his own impending torment. The accident I mentioned that he was in. Well, it really had a negative effect on him in the long run.

When my dad was seventeen, he was about to graduate. He was graduating with honers and ready to go to law school. He was driving with his best friend in the passangers side. This best friend also happened to be his uncle. They were both the same age, and in the same graduating class. My dad was young, and although he was bright, he didn’t think things through that night and had some alcoholic beverages. He got into an accident. His head got stuck in the steering wheel, amd ended up in a coma. When he woke the first words he uttered were -“Where’s John,” but John didn’t make it. My dad was like a young toddler once again. He had to once again learn how to walk. He was back in diapers, at seventeen years old. Once things got a little normal he took off, leaving only a letter that said – gone out west. He did not go to law school, like he once planned.

I didn’t know of this accident until after my dad passed. My uncle told me, and it broke my heart when I first heard the story. Not only that, but it gave me an ounce of understanding. I mean, what would you do if you were responsible for the death of your best friend. Sure, hard drugs should never be an answer, but it is an easy way out.

Fast forward to when I was prepubescent. About 9 or 10. My dad started to become an empty shell. No longer was he my Daddy that made me hold onto his thumb as we crossed the street. He became so lost, and as time neared on he got worse and worse. It broke me everyday to see him always high. Meth and crack stole him away. They stole him and never returned him.

It’s safe to say, that his addiction really took a toll on me. I loved him, but I hated what he had become. I resented him. He lost himself, and nothing else mattered except his pipes. Often times my trailer became a crack house. Different junkies coming in and out. Things went missing, because why do crackheads give a shit who it belongs to. As long as they can sell it, and buy more drugs; that’s all that mattered. Even if it belonged to a broken child.

Even my escape, my N64 eventually disappeared. As I mentioned in my blog Five Games That Impacted My Life the number one game that had an impact on my life was Ocarina of Time. It was an escape, during that critical time of my life. Each day I would sit in my room (when I wasn’t out with friends) and play and play some more to my little hearts content. Link was the hero I needed, but as a fictional character he never came.

When I was fifteen, my mom moved away and my parents separated. Something that obviously should have happened years ago. I moved with her from a small town to a big city. This meant an even bigger school, and in conclusion I got some pretty bad anxiety. On top of living in a broken home, I was bullied at school quite a bit in my home town, so surely that didn’t help. It wasn’t long that I missed my friends so stupidly I moved back in with my father. Without my mom around things just got worse – ten fold – if that were even possible. Many times I would be drunk, or smoking marijuanna. I still toke up, yes. I don’t believe it’s a drug thats neccisarily bad for you. Canibus helps tons of people. Unlike hard drugs like crack or meth or opiates. It doesn’t change you into a shell of what you once were. It might temporarily change you into a couch ridden doofus with the munchies. It might also numb your brain, but not in the damaging way hard drugs do. Anyways, I became one of those stoner teens. My dad’s budget didn’t quite food, so I didn’t eat a whole lot. After a while I just ended up staying at a inds house most of the time. Her dad knew what was going on, so I was always welcome. His wife also walked out on him and my friend because she got into meth as well. She moved away with her junkie boyfriend, so he had an inkling of what I felt. He fed me, and I atleast had someone to keep me company. I am so thankful for that man. My sister came to “visit” me, but her motive was to rescue me. It didn’t take long, amd went without a fight. I was done with that town, and done with that life.

I missed almost a year of school so I returned the next term. I didn’t make a lot of friends, as it was hard for me to come out of my shell. The few I have made however, were great. They didn’t judge me, and sure they may have been dweebs. They were cool dweebs though. Still, I never graduated. I finished grade ten, then made it almost to the end of grade eleven. I guess I kind of gave up. My mental health was still at a low, and I had no motivation. My mom made me a deal. If I it school, I need to get a job and start paying rent. That is what I did.

During the beginning of those school years my dad passed away. His birthday was February 11th. He just turned 49. Three days later on valentine’s day he had a heart attack. In a way everyone gave up on him, so his heart decided to follow. I wasn’t living there, thanks universe. In a way I saw it coming though. In more ways then one. For one, it was obvious. My dad already almost died once when my mom was still living there. Also it was in the cards, literally.

I had a deck of tarot cards. I got them from my dad on Christmas many years earlier. I had a curiosity for the occult, and before my dad was too far done, he still took notice of my interests. So, after I moved back with my mom I have myself a reading. I never knew, if I believed in tarot, but after this reading I became less skeptical. The spread read, something along the lines of – after great suffering will come yo an end. A few months later my dad had a heart attack. Creepy, right?

So now with this song. The first part I wrote at fifteen, not long after I moved back in with my mom. I am sure the pain, the heartbreak. It’s obvious. The second part in the song -which mentions valentine’s day, because that’s when he died, was written when I was sixteen, after my dad’s death. I showed my uncle one year visiting Oma and the Muileboom crew in Ontario. He cried. He said it was beautiful, and true. So without further ado, I present you – the Cage You Have Made. In my head I imagine the lyricist to sound like Amy Lee of Evanescence ( and BTW I have seen her live at a concert. If you all think she has a beautiful voice on record with dubbing and all, wait until you hear her actual voice. Goosebumps everywhere, I swear to you. Girl’s got some major pipes) I also imagine it to be in the genre category of symphonic rock.

careless thoughts, 
running through my mind. 
endless emotions,
that I can’t rectify. 
broken pieces, 
You left me on the floor. 
Please Daddy, 
I can’t take it anymore.

It’s taking you over, 
your just not the same. 
It’s seeping in deeper, 
each and everyday.
I can see your still here now,
but yet so far away. 
do you,
feel all right now. 
That your trapped within the cage, 
the cage that you have made.

things were better, 
when I went away. 
I didn’t have to watch you,
slowly deteriorate. 
I didn’t have to see you, 
kill your self away 
…….breathing pause
but, you just got worse,
now that you were all alone. 
[yell] Did you ever realize [yell]
that it’s yoouuu…who, 
chased me away. 
I’m sorry Daddy, 
I just couldn’t take it anymore…..

it has taken you over…
[whispery] you were no longer the same [whispery] 
it has seeped in even deeper…
each and every day
I could feel you hear now…
but, yet so far away
Do you feel Allright now…
that your still trapped within the cage…..
[higher] Cage [higher] 
that you made.

[musical solo]

a year has gone by…..
since I left 
a year has gone by,
and it’s valentine’s day. 
I get a phone call.. 
I knew…
(soft echo) I knew (soft echo)
I knew just …exactly…. what was coming my way. 
you were gone to the world,
and I have watched deaths prequel, 
it has foreshadowed your last day. 
I LOVE YOUDADDY, 
and I can take it now.

It has taken you over,
you were no longer the same. 
It’s seeped in so deep now, 
it has stolen you away. 
I know your not here now….. 
but no longer, so far away. 
Do you feel alright now,
your no longer…..
NO LONGER 
locked
in that cage. ….
that you have made

I couldn’t take it 
just couldn’t take it 
[whispery] anymore 
**repeat**

I woooont..,
make the same mistake,
that you have made.

(music solo-slow) (mistakes you have made in whispers in the background to the beat)

it has taken you over,
you were no longer the same. 
it has seeped in so deep now, 
it has stolen your soul away. 
I know your gone now,
but not so far away. 
I caaan… feeell…. allriiight…..noooww. …
that, your….noo…., longer in that caaagge….
CAGE
the cage that you have made.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope too many tears you did not cry. I know this sounds like a tragic tale. Every bit is truth, but please don’t feel so bad for me. I have grown, and moved on. Even though it took me a long time. Anxiety issues and and a bout of PTSD later I became the woman I am today. Still have anxiety, and it just might follow me for the rest of my life. I can for the most part control it better though.