Monday, October 28, 2013


I'm not the greatest fan of Hallowe'en. Don't know why. I find nothing particularly wonderful about seeing horrible masks, ghouls, freaks, cobwebs on trees and houses and all the other things that scare children ... and adults too for that matter.

Maybe it's because of my past, of living with someone of whom I was so frightened that I was too scared to go to bed at night. I still hear doors opening when everyone was supposed to be asleep. I see the thin shaft of light coming into my room and the dark, looming figure of a man ... my father ... carefully closing the door behind him and feeling his way in the dark over to my bed...

My monster was alive, real. He put on a different mask when friends were around. He was Mr. Friendly, affable, personable. He cared about his wife and child. But he didn't wait for or need Hallowe'en to terrify me. He just did.

Sorry if I don't get into the spirit. Oh I still give out the candies and smile at the sweet little princesses and angels who come to my door shyly saying "Trick or Treat". And I even write poems for them, and in my heart hope that the only monsters and ugly people they ever see in their lives are the other kids running around the streets in costumes on October 31st.

Viga Boland, NO TEARS FOR MY FATHER: a true story of incest


  1. When you wrote that you saw a thin shaft of light coming into your room and a dark figure carefully closing the door behind him and feeling his way to your bed... my dad did the EXACT same thing. It brought a vivid picture to my mind. I don't particularly love or hate Halloween. I like going to haunted houses, I think they're fun. However, during this time of year my system goes "out of whack". My bipolar mania kicks in and then once that winds down my PTSD kicks into high gear. Maybe something in the air???

    1. Thanks for reading that blog post Yve and yes, I'm sure what we both experienced in being abused by our fathers is a horrible memory shared by so many others. I'm afraid I'm still very easy to "spook", jumping when folks suddenly come around a corner and I don't expect it, let alone someone sneaking up behind me and saying "boo" or even just planting a kiss on my cheek. It was that door opening and being afraid to go to bed at night that prompted the poem in my book, NO TEARS FOR MY FATHER, called "It's not the monster under the bed". I'm sure you can relate to this:

      Not the monster under the bed

      What goes on behind those doors?
      Beneath the rafters, between the floors?
      What fills a child with so much fright
      She's afraid to go to bed at night?

      It's not the monster under the bed
      That fills her heart with so much dread
      It's the monster that visits her room at night
      And tells her  "Shhh... Everything's alright"

      This is the monster that she most fears
      Who brings such pain and ignores her tears
      The one who messes with her body and head
      Not the monster under the bed

      ©Viga Boland 2012

  2. Hi Viga I totally get where you are coming from. However, I am a Halloween enthusiast because you can be anything you want to be and for one night you don't have to be you. It was an escape and i embraced it whole heartedly. even today Halloween is a bigger holiday in my house then Christmas. Christmas holds to many bad memories for me.

    1. Doesn't that show how beautifully different we all are Tammie. Never thought of it that way. Thanks for posting!