I’ve been absent for a while. Why? Because the last few weeks have been harder on me. Basically when it comes to emotions and things like that. I say this because spring time, for some reason although it’s pretty self-explanatory when I think about it, is harder for me than any other time of the year. It’s an anniversary of sorts, as the saying goes. More than likely this is when life as I knew it came crumbling down around me although I always knew eventually it would dump on my head and cause me a big headache. It’s the emotional stuff that continues to grip tight. It’s that emotional stuff that has tripped me up more than anything else, and for good reason.
After such a long time of not really wanting to share with the rest of the world or whoever reads this, I felt it necessary for part of my healing process to write what I’m about to write. I won’t be going in-depth so no need to fear reading a novel length piece. I see brave people talking about their experiences as when children and are now adults of their abusive experiences by the hands of mothers, fathers, other family members, and equally messed up by strangers. One of them includes a good friend of mine whose father abused her and then was so nice enough to pass it on and abused his grandchildren when they were young. It’s a vicious cycle and an ugly one. It perplexes me why people think it’s okay to abuse young children. It shouldn’t be so hard of a concept to understand, but when you look at the Catholic Church, mainly the behind the door activities conducted by priests and their choir boys, it should be alarming to people who aren’t and are Catholics. Get the priests some sexual outlet because obviously what is required of them now is clearly not working.
Bringing this back to my own personal life, it isn’t my biological father smacking me or knocking me down that stuck with me. It isn’t even the time he purposely burned me because I pissed him off so much that I had to suffer for pissing him off so bad. It’s the things I can’t go in-depth about because frankly, it’s too painful to even admit that happened even though I know it did. It’s those things that made me wish at one point he was still alive so I could do everything to him that he did to me. He left me with many unresolved emotions where I didn’t know my head from my ass. It was damn painful and still is to an extent. This is the part that if I were an outsider looking in, well it makes it all more tragic. It didn’t have to be this way. He didn’t have to treat me so poorly, but it’s no use wishing things were different. Some parents hate their kids. My biological father was one of them. I know this because he told me this many times.
My saving grace is I was plucked out of there before it got even worse. This post is to all those survivors who did survive and those who never got a chance. This post is to all those who still struggle with herself or himself while trying to improve and heal themselves. Without getting too preachy or mushy, this shit lasts a lifetime. This is basically my disclaimer that yes, my biological father was abusive. For everything that happened to me, there were many good things that occurred too after the fact. This is my way of saying I’m glad I survived because I have a lot more to accomplish and want to be thankful for.