The day Agatha became my friend (an on the couch post)

Writing seems to be the only way to throw words and emotions out of myself.  It is my therapy; if you are a regular reader here, you would have heard that before. 
Many years ago I lived with a very nasty, horrible and cruel man.  Unfortunately, that man was to be called “Daddy.”  I know the question on your mind right now, and I’ll answer straight away, yes he was and is my real flesh and blood father.
You’ll understand if I don’t have the inclination to go into much detail about the abuse right now, because as I write today, I am suffering from yet another bout of a very deep and haunting depression.  These bouts of ongoing depression can be directly attributed to the abusive behavior of this horrible man.  I don’t want to call him Dad, not father, so from here on he will be referred to as Gert.  But this post is not about Gert and his psychopathic behavior, although I do have to mention him as the subject is relevant to what made me start writing.
On the occasions that he was employed, he would work shifts.  I would be very scared on the days that I knew he would be home when I got home from school.  I took my time walking to our house.  When I got there, I tried my best to sneak in quietly and put my school bag down.  I quickly took what I needed for homework and would leave as soon as possible, just to miss him.  If confronted later that evening as to why I did not come and greet him, I would say that I thought he was sleeping and didn’t want to wake him.  It was necessary to feign a really concerned as well as humble expression whilst uttering those words.

“It is the brain, the little gray cells on which one must rely. One must seek the truth within–not without.” ~ Poirot”
―  Agatha Christie

Anyway, I would find myself a spot at the library and after doing my homework; I would spend the whole afternoon reading, until I knew mom would be home.   You may wonder what I did when we did not live near a library, well, I’ll tell you about that in another post and more than likely on a blog with another name.
My hideaway at the local library was brilliant; it was a place that he would never ever have dreamt of looking for me. We moved often and when we were in walking distance to the library, well, that was a great blessing.
At first I read all the” Famous five” and “Secret Seven” books.  I had many a chuckle reading The “Just William” books by Richmal Crompton.   After that I moved on to Nancy Drew, and later, whilst all the other girls were reading soppy love stories, I had found a great treasure, and a new best friend, Agatha Christie.
(Above is a photo of one of my very old Agatha Christies, which I just can’t part with)
I read every Miss Marple and every Hercule Poirot book I could find, and from there on, I tried to write my own short mysteries.  Sadly, I threw them away as I did not think that I was a good writer at all, and also, I wanted to be able to concoct a plot the way Ms Christie did – which naturally I couldn’t.  
Of course, I now have many more favourite authors and many more “book friends.”  I have kept all the copies of my old books which were purchased at second hand stores.  I have kept those books for many years.  Do you also wonder about the people who held that very second hand book that you have at times held and read?  I think of people who have read the same second hand, third or fourth hand book as kindred spirits…
I only really started writing again as an adult when a friend suggested I start a blog.  I am now busy with (actually for a while now) the writing of a story, my story as a fictional story.  Perhaps you will read it one day.

“You start into it, inflamed by an idea, full of hope, full indeed of confidence. If you are properly modest, you will never write it at all, so there has to be one delicious moment when you have thought of something, know just how you are going to write it, rush for a pencil, and start buoyed up with exaltation. You then get into difficulties, don’t see your way out, and finally manage to accomplish more or less what you first meant to accomplish, though losing confidence all the time. Having finished it, you know it is absolutely rotten. A couple of months later, you wonder if it may not be all right after all.”
― Agatha Christie

For: Weekly Writing Challenge, The Daily prompt.


64 thoughts on “The day Agatha became my friend (an on the couch post)

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  2. I remember devouring Agatha Christie too. I remember being so mad at the ending of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, lol. I’m glad you found a way to avoid the awfulness but am so sorry you ever had to go through it. ((HUGS))

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  6. Ahh now you’re talking … Miss Marple, Hercules Poirot, Nancy Drew.. my love of mysteries… first and foremost!

    I can’t imagine having to live with someone like you had to. My siblings (9) had to live and tiptoe around an ‘alcoholic’ but he wasn’t a physical abuser …. He was gone from the home by the time I came …#10 … for which while I missed not having a father, at least I didn’t have to live with an alcoholic…. ‘thinking of you and hoping you begin to see some light in your present feelings of depression’… Diane xo

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  11. Thank you for sharing this with us! I relate to finding my solace in books (especially Nancy Drew!), though my home environment was not the poisonous one that you dealt with. I think it shows your strength as a child and now that you seek out a better place for yourself instead of wallowing in fear and helplessness.

    • Thank you so much for understanding that, Kay. I often say on my posts, when I talk about this, that I am not looking for sympathy, it is just that those are the facts and I mention them because they are relevant to some of the things I talk about here 🙂

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  14. Your story reminds me a little of “Matilda.” Thanks for sharing. You’ll get through difficult times just like Matilda. Also, I love Agatha Christie. I never figured out who did it. Brilliant!

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  16. yes, indeed I would love to read that story you are working on, as for finding friends in books and having an abusive father, well I guess we are kindred spirits. There are too many of us. Sending you a virtual hug, and hoping you will find a way to feel a little lighter, a little better with each day. Blessings!

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  18. Touching story indeed Hope.
    Many of us I think write because it is in my opinion the best way to get your feelings on paper (or on WP) for this matter.
    Let me know when your story is out, would love to read it.
    Hugs xoxo

  19. Just like you I have read all of Agatha’s books Michelle. That is what I love about books. They take you to a land far far away from the ugly reality of life. I used to spend all my time in the library, away from all the ugliness and nasty people. You have a treasure there indeed and love the shots you took. Gorgeous! 😀

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  22. Great post. I love getting lost in a story, escaping into a book. I read Agatha Christie when I was younger, so did my mom. We read many of the same books during her lifetime. When you said “Writing seems to be the only way to throw words and emotions out of myself. It is my therapy” – I could really relate. Writing has always been a type of therapy for me. My blog allowed me to write my true emotions and feelings in order to understand and heal. It saved me. Thanks for sharing.

  23. My heart just aches for the little girl that still hurts deep inside of you. I also went to the library, skipping school to hide in my sanctuary. But for me it was grief after my father died. I was 14 and did not know how to handle the sudden death of my father. It was a place to hide and escape to another place where I did not feel pain and loneliness. Books have been my place of refuge since. “Hugs”

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Namaste. My soul honors your soul. I honor the place in you where the entire universe resides. I honor the light, love, truth, beauty & peace within you, because it is also within me. In sharing these things we are united, we are the same, we are one.

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