Getting nowhere

[PointlessExistence]

Thirty-plus years of getting nowhere...every once in a while feeling embarrassed by my username but always returning to the realization that it fits...not even finding enough of a reason for living to find a focus for this diary.

It's not worth it to go into my history. I started typing it, but it's too hard to explain. And what's the point. I'm not even sure if it's therapeutic for me to remember it to myself, so what good would it do for me to try to tell the rest of the world. Detailing the reasons for my dysfunction will just suck me into the "justification" game, which "gets me nowhere".

I have just written two paragraphs explaining my current mindset and deleted them, as they are rambling, don't really explain the heart of the matter, and didn't feel therapeutic letting out.

I am really just waiting (and suffering) until death. I guess I should be thankful for small (or not so small) favors. I am not in physical pain, and I am not in prison or an institution, and I am pretty well off as far as creature comforts. In that way you can say I should be happy. But it is hard when you feel like you have ruined your child's life. It is hard when you feel like your one chance to have done something well is your child, and when you feel like you did well for the first three years and then you just weren't diligent enough and you were weak and let your PTSD make you a bad father.

Yes, I blame myself for PTSD. Whether that guilt is part of my PTSD or not, it is my reality - I feel 100% guilt all my waking hours. I am not strong enough. I have not faced that ultimate fear. I have not rocked myself to my core to the point where the PTSD has vanished. I think I must do that. I am weak. Even now I am looking for sympathy because I am weak. I am wretched. I am scared that I will suffer some form of punishment in the afterlife. I will possibly be stuck in a small box for eternity.

I know I just went off on a crazy tangent. I know that. But that is really my thought process. I sincerely go there with my thoughts. I am not technically psychotic, because I do not have hallucinations, etc. But my thought-process definitely goes into psychotic-territory. I blame it on my weakness...yet at the same time, I believe it very well may be reality; I may have to suffer in the afterlife because of my weakness/cowardice/selfish (all the same thing really) in this life.

 

[PointlessExistence]

(btw, I am 47 and though my childhood was horrible, and was the cause of my condition, things seemed to have righted themselves by my early teens. Then everything went wrong when I was 16. There was nothing specific. Things just turned to shit. With my foundation it was bound to happen at some point. I think the trials and tribulations of puberty just delayed it a little.)

 

[PointlessExistence]

Cut off the head. That's how you kill it - you cut off the head. Why should I dwell on the bullies and the teachers and the other kids' parents or the bosses and the authority figures and the bureaucrats? Why not concentrate on the one person who did the most damage - the one who was supposed to be on my side.

(1) He abused me
(2) He raised me to be defenseless, making me a target for children and adults
(3) He made me feel guilty for being weak/cowardly when other children victimized me
(4) He did nothing at all when adults victimized me

God, just give me five minutes with old dear old DAD when he was 40. I'll grab that f*cker by the scruff, and I'll get his ass down in a chair. I'll stand behind him, and I'll grind my claws into his ears, his neck, his shoulders. I'll slap the back of his stupid head half a dozen times. I want to hear that pussy snivel and sob. Let me hear the snot in his nose. I want to hear misery. I want to hear self-loathing and fear. I'll stand before him and give him a stiff open hand straight to his mouth, so his gums will cut on his teeth. I'll quickly follow that with some full-force forehand/backhand slaps left-right left-right, leaving his face a swollen mess. I want to see those blue eyes turn a sad, sad bloodshot red.

I want to break him. I want to see him broken. I'm the father now. And I'm his worst f*cking nightmare.
But don't worry folks. I'm not psycho. Remember, he's 40 in this scenario, not a kid. And it's only 5 minutes, and I don't even hit him with a closed fist. Truth is, he's getting off pretty easy.

 

[PointlessExistence]

Wow, that felt good. It was good typing it out and sharing it here. As I see myself abusing my father, I remember how I felt when he abused me. It gets me down to a pretty basic level. I'm really starting over at that point. I'm a child of clay again. And with my turning-of-the-tables scenario I set things straight so that I can move on and grow up healthy and happy.

I visit that scenario from time to time, and I never can seem to hold very long onto that feeling of liberation it gives me - that feeling of being "cured". It always goes away shortly thereafter. Maybe I have to go through it night after night for months or years, or maybe I need a therapist to guide me. I don't know. I just know that the scenario always brings the same elation and then that elation dissipates.

 

[PointlessExistence]

People act like they owe their parents something. Parents brought you into the world; you didn't ask them to bear you. They did it out of their own selfishness. Their two biggest responsibilities are to keep you safe and to teach you to love yourself. They get no awards or accolades for either. Those are their jobs. That's what they signed up for when they procreated or adopted.

When she's old enough, I want my daughter to get out and not look back. I never want her to feel she owes me anything. I haven't been a great father. I've been 100x better than the father I had, but I wasn't 1/100th of the father I always wanted to be.

I want my child to be a real adult - one who says "Later folks. I'm gone. Maybe I'll call you sometime" and does her own thing. I don't want her to be one who feels guilty about not calling or the one who says "oh my parents did so much for me". NO SIR!!! I didn't do the good things I've done so that she could feel like shit. I did them so that she could love herself and be strong and look the world in the eye.

If I am to go to my grave with her hating me yet loving herself, I'll die a happy man