I have been struggling very badly the past few weeks, and it just doesn’t seem to be improving just yet. Nights of sleeplessness, pain that has been unbelievable, and all sorts of other fun stuff going on, and the complete despair of knowing that I will have to go to the doctor sooner rather than later, but expecting the exact same treatment, or lack of. I haven’t felt this lost for a while.
Every day I just tick the day off best I can. Distraction from just how bad I feel is starting to not work, although I try every day. I mow the lawn. I painted the shed today. I helped dad lop back a big willow that was hanging over the new shed and carport a couple of days ago, which was a big mistake for my well-being, on both a physical and mental/emotional level.
I am a wreck. I’ve started to get some sores from the stress on my body, particularly on my face. It’s the whole, messy package.
I just don’t know how I am actually even achieving a thing at all.
I am still managing, according to Jack, to be a great dad. I don’t know. I am still a better dad than my own in this state, but I feel as though I am not the dad I expect myself to be.
My tolerance of my father is very low right now. His nasty, smart arse, know-it-all (but knows nothing) unfunny behaviour just grinds me. I have given up on pleasantries, well, I keep the peace more or less, but his nastiness towards pretty much anyone, and then his acting as though he’s done nothing wrong, just makes me really fucking angry.
Just a little insight into what we are talking about here. Sexist and racist jokes. He doesn’t see them that way. He doesn’t believe he is a misogynist or a racist, but apparently jokes about dumb blonde women are funny, and blackface is okay.
He always expected someone else to do his housework, in the beginning it was his mum (who didn’t help, as she did everything for him and turned him into what he is), and then his wife. Only in the past few years has he actually ever done anything at home, and it was like he needed a gold badge every time he did anything. “I vacuumed today, I need a gold sticker”. “I cooked 1 meal this week, I need a gold badge.” “I turned the washing machine on today, that’s doing the washing”. Right now, his little granny flat reeks. It is such an horrendous smell, just like his room when in the old house, perhaps, actually, worse. He even came up near me today, and I doubt he’s had a wash for a few days.
If anyone actually stands up for themselves after or during an onslaught of abuse from him, they are picking on him. I mean, we are talking about a person who displays every attribute of a classic abuser. Is the perpetrator then cries victim.
Things unravel. It’s funny, I have heard a line from him, that he attributes to his grandfather, time and time again, and even just last week, “if you tell a lie, you have to have a good memory”. Well, his lies unravel at such a rate, it’s almost amusing now, especially when he quotes his grandfathers line.
When I changed my bank to a new one, from the old, “the family has always banked with such and such bank”, he gave me a huge amount of grief. Funnily, a bank statement arrived yesterday, for him, from the bank I changed to.
Apart from laying bare the hypocrisy, it uncovered another lie. He blamed a disagreement with Jack on Jack’s birthday last year, and chucked a huge tantrum, telling the whole family he was leaving and that we were all basically arseholes (on his grandsons birthday, and no apology has EVER been forthcoming for that), but now we have discovered, with the exposing of several things, that he was planning it for months, but he still sticks to the crap of this disagreement as being the catalyst for him splitting up with Mum.
His bank statement (which, now being from the same bank as mine) only comes every six months, that every six months starting from when the account was first opened. So, in January last year, he opened that account, the plan was already in motion. 5 months prior to his blaming Jack. He actually said on the infamous night, that he already had his own bank account. So yep, nothing at all to do with Jack at all. He really is a low bastard. His memory obviously sucks, because he exposes his own lies, and he doesn’t even realise it.
I guess that my little vent of the spleen is because the other thing is that he has a total disregard for any other persons feelings, or how they are in any way. I ended up helping him cut back that willow, just to keep the peace. I was, and have been incredibly unwell for over a month now, but he just doesn’t care. But, if he has a touch of hayfever, we all need to care. Well, I don’t like anyone being unwell, but his total disregard for anyone else has brought me to a point where I just about have found the second person in my life now that I have no care about at all now. The first being my second abuser (my father, I now realise was the first, and the reason why I thought it was normal and accepted the second one for so long). I know he is my father, but all the shit I have gone through because of him over the years, I have paid my dues to him, and owe him nothing. I only do anything for him now for the sake of my mother.
Well, I still don’t know up from down, I am still a mess, still really unwell, and, well, lost. I don’t know what the future holds for me, and right now, it all sounds to painful and exhausting.