30 Day Recovery Challenge

[The Albatross]

Day 6 - Write a letter to someone who has harmed you or has made you feel bad.

Hmmm. I already did one to my mother so I'll do one to my dad. But I have to come back to this after my shift. I want to think about it because I don't know that I have really ever tried to put into a letter to him how he hurt me and what I was feeling.

 

[The Albatross]

Okay dad here we go.

Dear Dad,

You are dead so I feel I can talk to you now. Not that we haven't had some talks since your passing, but we haven't had many talks about me and PTSD. I had to pull back and think about this some this morning, because I am not going to scream at you. I have done that many time in my dreams. The last time had a dream about you, you and I were on the beach. You were near me but following along behind me at a reasonable distance. I wanted to turn to talk with you. But when I did you were with your second wife. I didn't want to intrude. I still don't want to intrude. I always felt I was an intrusion in your life. I guess that's the crux of the matter.

I have a mature understanding of what you were up against with me, my brother and my mother. I have some understanding of the at times cruel and violent way you were raised. I know you were young. Mom was young. I know that we children were both sick and that put a lot of pressure on you.

But I also know that you were violent, cruel, abusive, and a bully. You were cruel to me and mom but you were a very social and fun man to be around with others. I never understood that. I didn't understand how you could be so happy go lucky among peers, neighbors, team mates, coworkers, and your extended family... but such a violent ass hole to me and mom. You were/are a misogynist and one mean son of a bitch. I am the daughter of a mean son of a bitch.

You treated me different than you did my brother. You acted out on me. You called me names, you kicked me, you beat me, you raged and egged me on to suicide or to act out so you could send me to juvenile hall. You never once gave a shit to wonder what was wrong.

I was suffering from depression and suicidal at age 11. I would sit and tie nooses and put them around my neck. I would cut myself with razor blades and lay in bed and slow down my breathing while you were alternatively beating and raping my mother in the next room... willing myself to stop living.

You didn't make an effort until you had remarried and had a "come to Jesus" moment. I was in my early 30's by then. I am though fortunate that it happened at all, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for some of the several sincere conversations we were able to have.

You didn't know how ill you were. Until you got diagnosed with clinical depression and became suicidal. I promised you that if I ever became suicidal I would immediately ask for help and I thank you for that too. If it hadn't been for that conversation, I would have been to afraid to show "weakness" (you hated that in us so much for so many years, weakness, vulnerability when you were so awful and mean and violent to me and to mom). You did though save me. Save me from eating myself alive.

Never good enough, never beautiful enough, never smart enough, never brave enough, never successful enough. All that mattered so much to you. It didn't though, to me. I figure you know by now, that I feel fortunate to even be breathing and have a heartbeat. I expected to be dead before 21, then 25, and again at 27, and most recently at 40. I think you knew, later on after I left our state and made my own life... how big a hand in this you had.

Time has passed. And I can look at some of the photos I still have. I can now remember some happier things. But you are a mystery to me and I have problems with knowing what to do with my memories as they are the perceptions of a child, a youth, a teen, a young woman.

The last kind thing you did for my mother really floored me. You accompanied me to Oregon, and assisted with helping to bring back some items for her. But you verbally abused me in front of people who were my and my grandfathers friends the whole trip. Oddly you stayed silent, and on your best behavior for your middle brother, my uncle. You had a keen sense of appearances. Even though we all know you slept with both my aunts and had affairs all throughout your marriage to my mother. I removed myself from my sir name family after your funeral. You all are too bat shit crazy for me. Those left, are more messed up than even I am.

There are many, so many things I don't remember. I expect that's for the best. But I want you to know, while I acknowledge that you gave us better than you got... you still fractured my psyche, demeaned me to the point of being suicidal, beat me in public view of the neighborhood for relatively little, and controlled me as much or more than my first husband which... surprising to me you didn't like.

You were a paradox to me... a puzzle with pieces missing so I could never solve them. You know what you did to me... but you felt it was your right. I am sad that the first thought I had after your passing is that you couldn't hurt me anymore. How stupid is that for a grown woman across the country with a home of her own?

I say I know you loved me, but really I am not sure. I know you think you "should" love me, or thought you should after your remarriage.... but I know appearances mean everything to you and you lead a double life.

I am taking care of mother, who still loves you. She is in my eyes a stupid, stupid woman. Stuck and broken. Because of you and because of my grandfather. She has a happier life now, but still speaks fondly of you. I have to listen to that. With an understanding and open look on my face. It is hard. But it is necessary.

My feelings about you are very complicated. It was a mixed bag all the way to the end. Even after your end, I still try to please you, honor you, make you proud of me. I do the more difficult things. I am brave. I am capable and competent at times. I am mindful of how my actions affect others.

I hate it when I sound or act like you when I am disturbed. I hate that I am your daughter and that my mother hears your voice through me. I am learning how to deal with that. Now. And I am going to let you rest. I actually miss talking to you still sometimes. Believe it or not. You could occasionally break through with important things for me. No one else does that. You were a mixed bag. I guess I am too.

In spite of myself, I am my father's daughter. I am glad I have the rest of my lifetime to work out the worst of what that means. Dad, I have PTSD. I have parts of my life with you that were so bad I can't/won't remember. Big chunks are missing from my life. I felt like I was in a war zone and was a prisoner of war. I was a hostage or a POW, or a prisoner. You ruled with an iron fist. You know you did. You scared me so badly I have difficulty even still.

You attacked us mercilessly, body, mind, soul, and spirit. We weren't allowed to express emotion... it would make it worse. You were a despot and petty dictator and tyrant. You were cruel beyond measure and we did not deserve what you did to us. I am glad though that we could begin to rectify things before you died.

Your daughter, who does love you,

Alby

 

[The Albatross]

P.S. I found property in your name around Los Angeles with another woman when I had to do property searches because of the estate problems with your second wife. I know it was you. I did not tell anyone or pursue it because I didn't want to find out you had a second family. I decided it was best for my mother and Pat ... and I didn't want to have another reason to hate you after you died. You had your affairs and liaisons... if you had a second family, you got away with it.

I kept your secret. I did not tell anyone. I have no interest in your other family. I have enough to deal with between me, mom, and my brother.

 

[The Albatross]

Oh my God, I had to go through a bunch of edits to write that... I did it live because if I didn't I was afraid I would never write it at all.

I never have spoken, about the results of the property searches after my father died and the fact that he most likely had a second "family". I did not give the documentation to either his second wife or my sibling or mother. No good would come of it. Not in my opinion. I have carried this since my dad died. I'm gonna lay it down right here.

 

[SweetPeaandSunBird]

Thanks Bree. I think I'm going to give it a try, too.

Day 1- Write a letter to your addiction (‘drug of choice’) or your disorder.

Dear Maladjusted Coping Mechanisms (A: smoking; B: emotional spending; C: self-injury):

A: Smoking
I realize that after the assault in Ecuador in the city park in Quito and returning to the graduate school campus, I needed to weaponize myself in order to walk on campus, walk from bus-stop to bus-stop. A lit cig and a lighter, I thought, was a way to be able to study at the park benches and at the duck pond with an easy way to cinge a prospective perp. In a way, you did help me in my insistance that I had a right to study outside on campus on those sunnier days. Though I told you, this was just to get us through the ph.d. exams and the dissertation, neither of us complied. That assault was 15 years ago, one separation and divorce ago, a bankrupsy ago, a skin-cancer scare ago, and so many stressors ago. I'm not 29 years old any more; you're not working for me as a healthy partner in NO-CRIME.

I'm not sure I can quit you right now, but your time is coming. I don't hate you, though. You did what you offered in light of the fact that I was undiagnosed and without treatment and barely hanging on.

B: Emotional spending
We are such a mess, though, luckily we have a job and no kids. But, every minor unexpected expenditure, and definitely every major one is compounded by the fact that we have no savings and no credit. It's true this was a very learned behavior at a very young age by our own mother's inability to let emotions come in long enough to put them in their properly processed space. We ain't youngsters anymore. We aren't a two-income household anymore.

You, too, did your part in getting me through. I am still here, after all. But, I'm too broke and old for us to do this anymore.

C: self-injury

My dear old-old friend. We began this relationship when I was five years old, long before either of us knew what the hell was going on.
You, too, helped me survive, but, we get so hot in the humid summers and can't wear shorts anymore: our legs, especially, are such a mess. And, that, in turn, makes us stay indoors, less active as a result. You, too, need to realize, I'm too old to accept inactivity and subsequent weight gain.

My sweet maladjusted coping mechanisms, all of you helped me reach this age, but we need new tools.

Sincerely, SweetPeaandSunBird

 

[The Albatross]

Day 7 - What are 2 things you want? What are 2 things you need?

I need my health. I need safety/security.

I want some joy. I want to feel comfortable in my skin.

 

[The Albatross]

Day 8 - If you could go back in time (before your addiction/disorder) what would you tell yourself?

This is hard because I don't have a very good concept of before. Maybe I would have told myself to ask, and keep asking my grandparents to take me to live with them.

 

[SweetPeaandSunBird]

Day 2 - What have you done to help yourself with your addiction/disorder?

A: Smoking. Well...I'm trying to really judge, "do I really want another cig?" I've started to date and time each pack to keep myself from smoking more than a pack a day. Not great, but it's more than I used to do.

B: Emotional spending. Before I go out, I review my balance and budget. I've cut down a lot, but I have a long way to go.

C: Self-Injury. I've tried so many things, but with little success.

 

[The Albatross]

Day 9 - Who do you look up to? Why?

I look up to my maternal grandmother. She was a vibrant, pleasant, and fulfilled woman. She found love and happiness and led a very good life. She was cherished by my grandfather and many in her family. She had a kind countenance and a helpful attitude. I try to be like her in my general attitude toward other people, and with my mother and mother-in-law.

She attempted many things. She accomplished the things that were important to her. For her it was education. She completed high school at 64. She graduated college with a two year degree at about 82. She was an artist and a writer. I think one of the things that I most admire was her ability to never say an unkind word. Not that I could ever remember.

I hope that I might be like that. Fulfilled, creative, and kind. She was a safe harbor where I could go to feel love and feel what it is like to be cherished. My grandparents were deeply in love. I wanted my life to be like that. Maybe it can be one day.

 

[SweetPeaandSunBird]

Day 3 - List 3 things you like about yourself.

1. I try very hard not to rush to judgement regarding people. Even if I have a reflexive judgement, I step back and examine things. I always try to think about deeper causes and complex systems that surround what people do or say or need. (I don't succeed always but I do make a concious effort to try.)

2. I'm a great friend to animals and students (though the two are not to be confused with one another;)).

3. I've got my mom's eyes which I've always thought were engaging. They're hazel and can turn green or blue depending on what clothes I wear.

 

[The Albatross]

Day 10 - List 5 goals you have for yourself, short-term or long-term.

Complete the 30 Day Challenge
Re-certify my CPR and Basic First Aid before the end of the month.
Do my online continuing education.
Complete the Day Zero Project (101 goals in 1001 days) challenge.
Quit smoking cigarettes.

 

[The Albatross]

Day 11 - What motivated you to enter recovery?

Pain, anger, resentments, trust issues, traumas, unresolved issues, nearly ruining my health & marriage, suicidal ideation and random suicidal thoughts a solid run at nearly killing myself with booze.