feel the same about mine.

i don't know my real dad, but i hate the guy who was my father figure. i hate my whole family. they were all monsters.

I'm glad my father's dead. It was the best thing he could do for me. I wish he'd done it for me a lot earlier.

My father had had Alzheimer desease for a long time before he died.I had found it incredibly frustrating not to be able to confront him more when I was finally ready to do so, although I had had massive confrontation and even physically fought with him when I had started coming out of dissociation and denial.

When he died, I was shocked at the extent of my rage.
My mother took sadistic pleasure in commenting the grotesque funeral which took place amongst the elite because he was very known and esteemed in my home town.
I will never forget my state of mind that day.I was banned from the funeral of course, as they were rightly afraid I would create a scandal.
My anger and inner stress were so intense that I caused the radio's alarm clock in my shrine room in which I meditate to ring again seven times in a row .it was very uncanny as there was no way it could have rang
in the end, I went there, lit a candle and cried in front of my shrine.That night, I had strong impluses to hurt myself;I just shaved my pubic hair!
I had thought I would be relieved by his death.I realised it became worse with his death.I now badly wanted anexplanation about what he had really done to me, all the new flash backs that were coming back were worse than when he had been alive.It was as if he was now haunting me.
I realised I had to "evacuate" all these horrible traumatic memories that had laid dormant for so long.it was harrowing, draining.

One night, suddenly, a sudden thought of pure relief and joy from my inner kids:"he is dead, he will never hurt us or anybody else anymore".

I am now at peace with that process.I wonder how I will be when my mother dies.I will probably have to go through the same movie show again.i have learnt to take it with a pinch of salt now and not get too involved .But it's a f**** movie show!

Please let go of the hate. Don't let it harm you. I hated my dad for a long time too because of the damage he caused to me. Hate doesn't hurt the abuser, it only hurts ourselves, and eventually can become self abusive.

My dad is still alive...and I merrily enjoy despising him.
That having been said, I do it a lot less these days.
...At one point it seemed I had a choice, I could bear a murderous hatred towards him or I could bear it towards myself.

Guess who actually deserves it? HE DOES!

...I hate him. And right now I'm smiling, because it feels so good and right and true.
I hate him to the depths of my/our soul, and I will live to pee on his grave.
I will live a life of joy, to spite his worthless self.

I danced a happy dance on his grave. Waving my arms in the air and yelling at how happy I was he was dead.

I have a plan to spend a little time peeing on his gravestone on Father's Day. Not this year since it is 3,000 miles away.

Really this is sad to hate your dad.

It's sad that they deserve that hatred.
...I've mourned not having a male parent. What I had was a hypersexual, vicious toddler in a grown man's body.

#8
'hypersexual, vicious toddler in a grown man's body. "

Perfect description! Thanks for that Hylie

Hmmm.....

A hypersexual vicious toddler.

He made me hypersexual for sure as a kid I was always instigating sexual play with all the kids in the neighborhood.

Probably a good thing there was no Internet then. I would have been looking at Internet porn at 4.