ms spock
VIP Member
So my Father, who I had been thinking about a lot these last few days died.
I knew he had a rare blood disorder/cancer, which might be from Agent Orange etc chemicals used in that war. Anyway he died.
So I think the last time he tried to rape me I was 20 or 21 maybe 22? I don't think there were other times after that.
It's bizarre.
I had been trying to tell my self a story that I could live with about it all. These last few days I was trying to accept that my life is real, and what happened to me happened and I am real and what happened to me did really happen, and I am alive. I was trying accept life as it was/is.
My sister texted B yesterday. Which is strange as I got him to block her number so she probably rang him and told him and then texted. This was compassionate as would I have lost my shit if someone from the family rang me? Absolutely f*cking yes!
It's a no brainer that I am not going to the funeral.
Late last night I texted my little Bro and told him to take care and do what you need and want to do. I don't want him to have pressure to not go to Dad's funeral if he wants to go. We are all different. We all had our own very twisted and confusing relationships with that man. My little Bro is always on the edge of committing suicide. Violence in the home of all types is a killer of our young men, because how do they manage those big scary feelings when emotional regulation of any sort was never practiced in the home? How do they be a man, when being a man is all about being violent and raping the women?
I know at 15 I made a decision to never have children because I wasn't passing anything downstream, and I knew my Father would find a way to sexually assault any children I had because of the man that he was/is. He was a f*cking controlling bastard!
I told my brother that the same sex to the abuser often has it really tough, and I can't imagine how hard he had it. He is an alcoholic prone to lots of behaviours.
I do wonder if my Mother will go and make it all about her. I know one sister won't go and I don't know about the others. Most likely not.
Then after I sent my brother a text. I sent a text to my sister telling her to take the best care of herself that she can. She sent me back lots of love and care, which she isn't capable of doing because she is supremely f*cked over by both our Father and Mother. But we made gestures, so that is good I guess.
I don't feel anything but I wish I had received a real apology or acknowledgement, but I didn't and I won't. That is life. He apologised once in a carefully worded statement/letter that, if taken to the police, meant nothing. It was always all about him. It is also the intergenerational nation of trauma transmission as well. But we have to be careful how we talk about that.
I went to my singing lesson last night I didn't tell her that my Father died because I don't want to discuss it with anyone I can't be myself with. She asked me if I was really tired. I said yes. So we cut it short.
And despite his best efforts of telling me as an 8 year old that if I went and played under a truck the world would be a better place. The mindf*cks were more of Mom's department. Despite his best efforts to destroy me in so many ways. I am actually here, a bit dissociated but I am here. I am still alive. And I have just started to have life. So that is big.
I know it's delusional but I think now, perhaps, I could see that side of the family and perhaps get some acknowledgement, get part of a family. It's totally crazy. I want to know who is at the funeral and who didn't come. Some will be going to check that he really is actually dead I know that. I kind of want to check that out myself.
I chose to comfort eating last night I went and bought a box of cornflakes, milk and brown sugar and I just comfort ate.
B was great.
I was offered work today I told them I already had work. It's a good school and I don't want to have an emotional reaction that I might not be able to manage at that place. I want to work there. Also I have nothing to give my students and love and care are a big part of teaching/learning. They have to feel heard and cared for.
Tomorrow I am teaching with this other genius Science guy and he would not judge if I cried, so there's no pressure at all with him. He is cool, and the thing is as there is no pressure to be a certain way, so it will be okay and it's teaching little kids which is both hilarious and like herding cats. On the weekend I will be organising and volunteering for our state conference, so it will be busy with lots of people, trouble shooting and all the things that being a dogsbody entails so that will be good. Then I will rest Sunday and back to work if I get called on Monday. Casual relief teaching is tricky but it also gives me room to manage a situation like this. Any one who loses a parent has bounce back. Being home with B is the right thing for me to be doing right now.
It's sad because I knew he was dying from a rare disease but I never thought to go and see him. That is interesting it just didn't enter my head. We were done. We were done a long time ago. Though if I had seen him as an older man maybe I would have been less scared of him? I don't know.
For years I had imagined turning up at his funeral screaming at them all for not lifting a finger to help me. How they treat me like a piece of shit. I imagined telling them you are all child rape supporters. Now I don't really know but I think I just don't care? There's no point with abusive wealthy and socially connected families like mine? They just get away with it because no one wants to even think that families like mine can behave like that. It's some media stereotype they associate extreme physical, emotional, intellectual, spiritual and sexual abuse with?
So much to process and I am not there yet.
I said to B that even though I hated my Father I also so loved him so it is so really hard to manage that situation. That was when he told me. He gave me a hug. I haven't cried or felt much. I am numb. It's tricky.
My Father ruined my life with how abusive he was just on his own - even without the help of my Mother. That is what someone said to me about someone else's Father that he had ruined her life.
I just want a response from people? I don't even know what I want? Usually I am targeting a particular issue, behaviour, thought pattern and changing some part of me. I don't really want to be challenged for what I am going through. I just want to be. But I want someone to know or people to know what is happening for me otherwise I feel like I am not here and what I am experiencing is not real.
This is real. This is my life. I am real. I am here. I exist. It has happened and it is happening.
My Father was a man who didn't deserve the title of Father or Dad. He had no morals whatsoever in some ways and high morals in another way. It is confusing. I also loved him because he was my Dad and we had some good times together. It's really hard to place the pieces together.
I knew he had a rare blood disorder/cancer, which might be from Agent Orange etc chemicals used in that war. Anyway he died.
So I think the last time he tried to rape me I was 20 or 21 maybe 22? I don't think there were other times after that.
It's bizarre.
I had been trying to tell my self a story that I could live with about it all. These last few days I was trying to accept that my life is real, and what happened to me happened and I am real and what happened to me did really happen, and I am alive. I was trying accept life as it was/is.
My sister texted B yesterday. Which is strange as I got him to block her number so she probably rang him and told him and then texted. This was compassionate as would I have lost my shit if someone from the family rang me? Absolutely f*cking yes!
It's a no brainer that I am not going to the funeral.
Late last night I texted my little Bro and told him to take care and do what you need and want to do. I don't want him to have pressure to not go to Dad's funeral if he wants to go. We are all different. We all had our own very twisted and confusing relationships with that man. My little Bro is always on the edge of committing suicide. Violence in the home of all types is a killer of our young men, because how do they manage those big scary feelings when emotional regulation of any sort was never practiced in the home? How do they be a man, when being a man is all about being violent and raping the women?
I know at 15 I made a decision to never have children because I wasn't passing anything downstream, and I knew my Father would find a way to sexually assault any children I had because of the man that he was/is. He was a f*cking controlling bastard!
I told my brother that the same sex to the abuser often has it really tough, and I can't imagine how hard he had it. He is an alcoholic prone to lots of behaviours.
I do wonder if my Mother will go and make it all about her. I know one sister won't go and I don't know about the others. Most likely not.
Then after I sent my brother a text. I sent a text to my sister telling her to take the best care of herself that she can. She sent me back lots of love and care, which she isn't capable of doing because she is supremely f*cked over by both our Father and Mother. But we made gestures, so that is good I guess.
I don't feel anything but I wish I had received a real apology or acknowledgement, but I didn't and I won't. That is life. He apologised once in a carefully worded statement/letter that, if taken to the police, meant nothing. It was always all about him. It is also the intergenerational nation of trauma transmission as well. But we have to be careful how we talk about that.
I went to my singing lesson last night I didn't tell her that my Father died because I don't want to discuss it with anyone I can't be myself with. She asked me if I was really tired. I said yes. So we cut it short.
And despite his best efforts of telling me as an 8 year old that if I went and played under a truck the world would be a better place. The mindf*cks were more of Mom's department. Despite his best efforts to destroy me in so many ways. I am actually here, a bit dissociated but I am here. I am still alive. And I have just started to have life. So that is big.
I know it's delusional but I think now, perhaps, I could see that side of the family and perhaps get some acknowledgement, get part of a family. It's totally crazy. I want to know who is at the funeral and who didn't come. Some will be going to check that he really is actually dead I know that. I kind of want to check that out myself.
I chose to comfort eating last night I went and bought a box of cornflakes, milk and brown sugar and I just comfort ate.
B was great.
I was offered work today I told them I already had work. It's a good school and I don't want to have an emotional reaction that I might not be able to manage at that place. I want to work there. Also I have nothing to give my students and love and care are a big part of teaching/learning. They have to feel heard and cared for.
Tomorrow I am teaching with this other genius Science guy and he would not judge if I cried, so there's no pressure at all with him. He is cool, and the thing is as there is no pressure to be a certain way, so it will be okay and it's teaching little kids which is both hilarious and like herding cats. On the weekend I will be organising and volunteering for our state conference, so it will be busy with lots of people, trouble shooting and all the things that being a dogsbody entails so that will be good. Then I will rest Sunday and back to work if I get called on Monday. Casual relief teaching is tricky but it also gives me room to manage a situation like this. Any one who loses a parent has bounce back. Being home with B is the right thing for me to be doing right now.
It's sad because I knew he was dying from a rare disease but I never thought to go and see him. That is interesting it just didn't enter my head. We were done. We were done a long time ago. Though if I had seen him as an older man maybe I would have been less scared of him? I don't know.
For years I had imagined turning up at his funeral screaming at them all for not lifting a finger to help me. How they treat me like a piece of shit. I imagined telling them you are all child rape supporters. Now I don't really know but I think I just don't care? There's no point with abusive wealthy and socially connected families like mine? They just get away with it because no one wants to even think that families like mine can behave like that. It's some media stereotype they associate extreme physical, emotional, intellectual, spiritual and sexual abuse with?
So much to process and I am not there yet.
I said to B that even though I hated my Father I also so loved him so it is so really hard to manage that situation. That was when he told me. He gave me a hug. I haven't cried or felt much. I am numb. It's tricky.
My Father ruined my life with how abusive he was just on his own - even without the help of my Mother. That is what someone said to me about someone else's Father that he had ruined her life.
I just want a response from people? I don't even know what I want? Usually I am targeting a particular issue, behaviour, thought pattern and changing some part of me. I don't really want to be challenged for what I am going through. I just want to be. But I want someone to know or people to know what is happening for me otherwise I feel like I am not here and what I am experiencing is not real.
This is real. This is my life. I am real. I am here. I exist. It has happened and it is happening.
My Father was a man who didn't deserve the title of Father or Dad. He had no morals whatsoever in some ways and high morals in another way. It is confusing. I also loved him because he was my Dad and we had some good times together. It's really hard to place the pieces together.
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