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My father's birthday snuck up on me. This week I got in from a long trip (Uruguay). Then right away had this problem with a coworker (his wife asked me not to drive him to supermarket as he's alcoholically drinking mouthwash). So I didn't have time to prepare myself mentally for this birthday.
It's always a day of grief for me, grieving for the parenting I never had. I don't think I'm being too harsh in saying I can't remember a single birthday where my father gave me anything. Yet on his birthday he expected homage to be paid to his fuhrer's dictatorship in the home.
He's still alive out there somewhere, though we no longer have contact. Wherever he is, I know he's gotten someone to make a fuss over him. Until he was thrown out of his church for getting caught stealing church money, he would be sure his church people would put on a big party for him. He always played church people against family that way: "look how grateful THEY are to me, why aren't you?"
They didn't know how he literally bounced me off the walls of my bedroom with his fists. He's lucky I didn't kill him in his sleep for that.
So it's not a warm, fuzzy day of remembrances of dear, old dad. And because of the week I had, I'm not in the best of shape to weather it. It's good to have this safe place here where I can say so.
It's always a day of grief for me, grieving for the parenting I never had. I don't think I'm being too harsh in saying I can't remember a single birthday where my father gave me anything. Yet on his birthday he expected homage to be paid to his fuhrer's dictatorship in the home.
He's still alive out there somewhere, though we no longer have contact. Wherever he is, I know he's gotten someone to make a fuss over him. Until he was thrown out of his church for getting caught stealing church money, he would be sure his church people would put on a big party for him. He always played church people against family that way: "look how grateful THEY are to me, why aren't you?"
They didn't know how he literally bounced me off the walls of my bedroom with his fists. He's lucky I didn't kill him in his sleep for that.
So it's not a warm, fuzzy day of remembrances of dear, old dad. And because of the week I had, I'm not in the best of shape to weather it. It's good to have this safe place here where I can say so.
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I feel so dirty and used I was drunk and passed out at a party when I came around some guy was on top of me rapeing me he covered my mouth and told me to shut up afterwards he got up and got dressed and said I better not tell anyone I found my friend and reported that I had been raped after having medical checks and them getting DNA I've taken the morning after pill IAM just so depressed and...
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Upon his departure, he remarked, "I am in many people’s pockets; no one will believe you." Have you ever grappled with the silence that follows sexual assault, where the perceived impossibility of being believed necessitates self-censorship?
The natural thing for me to say here is, "I know how you feel." I don't. Today's sermon was about as people, no matter how close we are to someone, we really do not know nearly everything about them and what makes them tick. But somebody does.
Through all of the rotgut that you have been through, look at what a loving, caring person that you have become. That is not a testament to your mother or father, that is a testament to you. Be proud of yourself for what you have become, you should.
And on these trigger dates that come up, these are dates that we should treat ourselves especially well, because we have survived despite their best efforts for us to crumble. Remember, THE ONE knows all. We will have our day to stand before THE ONE, and so shall they.
Lots of self-care, and lots of focus on the good memories---you survived him, you escaped him, you are *not* *him*. That is how I try to get through such dates.
Puma shoulder available to lean on.
I know it's not the same, but part of my coping and being here so much has to do with not just John, but so much and many more.
One is of my first husbands passing...all he did to me racing in my mind along every nerve highway I have. I will forever have pain in this body for some of those things, but I can not change that. All I can do is change how I perceive it.
If he had not taken me down so thoroughly, then my still standing in a person that can still care about others would not be of importance in my healing.
It's easy to be optimistic if you have only been raised with it, much harder and more strength is used and needed to do so with our history.
You my friend are a very good example as many are here that we are stronger for the fight because of the battles we have survived.
Hugs Muji and let this day pass, get up brush off your knees (usually where I pray for strength) and be who you are, a better man.
Jewell
I can relate very well to that syndrome - the parents who don't give to their kids but expect their kids to pay homage to them, the stress over wondering if you have given them enough, the broken heart over the love you longed for and never got, the willingness to forgive anything and everything if they'd only acknowledge the harm inflicted and leave room for you to co-exist. This is a good day to comfort your inner child, and maybe do something for him that he would have liked your father to do. This is a good day to assure him that he was a good boy who deserved a loving father, and it was not his fault that your sperm donor was not able to be that person.
For what it is worth, you deserved a good father.
I share your grief that you got a monster instead.
donna, thanks for reminding me that you have gone through this exact same syndrome, too. That the memory of loved ones who withheld but expected to be given is something with which I'm not alone. Your advice to nurture my inner child reminded me to be kind to my little baby soul, so I took myself out for a Sunday dinner.
multiverse, thanks for your solidarity one unparented person to another.
blue, thanks for a saying I didn't deserve a monster but a father instead. Bingo. Sometimes I feel like I didn't deserve better, but you remind me that we all do.
Leo, yeah, thanks for reminding me that I'm not "him." That's my personal revenge.
fifty, thanks for bringing home that bit from today's sermon that I still turned out to be a caring person. Preach it, brother.
Cecil, thanks for saying I'm a rose that bloomed among weeds. That turned my pain into pure poetry. Loved it.
Thank you for being here at DS PTSD, one and all.
Today is, for example, the birthday of famed mathematician Pierre Fermat----and author Charles Bukowski----and Admiral Halsey of the US Navy. So there's always someone else born tha tday, y'know?
I don't have to bite my tongue all day on a family member's birthday, or on Father's Day or Mother's Day. I can express myself freely about that it really reminds me of instead. I get responses that accept what I say without judging me. If I go further into detail and actually mention that instead of warm memories of fatherhood, a day reminds me of fatherly violence toward me, I am actually given support.
I truly count my blessings about having a safe, free space that lets me be my best self. I can only be my best self when I can be real, real about the good and the bad both. Getting the bad out helps me get the good out, too. That's how DS PTSD allows me to be a good person, Lilly. Otherwise, it would be bottled up in me with the bad stuff. Thanks to DS PTSD I have a way to get out the bad so I can get out the good.