Like I said in my last post, if you’re mind is stuck on a past trauma, pain, or someone who caused you pain, it could be because you haven’t learned everything that there was to learn from that experience.
My experience of being homeless has been coming up in my mind every now and again, so I decided to keep exploring until I could finally let it go.
This will be a continuation of my last post. . .
So onto my father.
My father was physically and verbally abusive. He was hot-tempered, and a jealous man. My mother was obsessed over me, and committed something called emotional incest. This is something that has happened to another friend of mine as well, and is common with families that have single mothers, abusive husbands, or any other deviation in between.
Covert incest, also known as emotional incest, is a type of abuse in which a parent looks to their child for the emotional support that would be normally provided by another adult. The effects of covert incest on children when they become adults are thought to mimic actual incest, although to a lesser degree.
I was given problems that a child should have never been given to solve. I was given a very large burden as a child, because I had to deal with both of my parents, who were very much like children. My father saw me as something of a rival. When I was a child, it was because of the attention that my mother paid me, he was jealous of the love I was receiving, that he thought he should have received. And when I was a teenager, I began to develop intellectually, and I started to question things, and this was a big no-no.
His word was law. He wanted absolute power. He had an image of a man in his head, and he desperately placed his dignity, and sense of self, on fulfilling these values, and so any small question felt like an attack to him. He had a very large ego and was a very proud man. He was not stupid either. Apparently, he is very intelligent. He took an IQ test when he was a child, and apparently he got a 150, which would place him right above the genius level.
And as I got into my later teens, I began to resent him more and more, because I made a crucial realization.
It’s not my fault.
Now of course, this thought was not 100% correct, but it was much more correct than when I thought every time he got angry or whenever there was a fight in the family it was all my fault. This realization spurred such rage and hatred inside of me. I wanted to beat the fucking shit out of him. I would day dream about this regularly, and I allowed hate to consume me.
I did this for 2 years. As each day passed, I hated a little more. Until one day, I was just waiting for him to explode again. Just waiting, so that I can have my excuse to beat the living shit out of him. And that day did come. However, I was cut short, and I was not allowed to release my rage. He and I were both fine physically, but he had received a blow to his pride that he could not bare, and he kicked me out for the last time.
The strange part is, I forgave him. It took me 2-3 years to do it, and once I finally forgave him it took me 6 months for me to actually mean it, but the bottom line is, I forgave him. It was probably one of the most liberating moments of my life. I did not know how twisted my heart had become because of my hate. But once I let it go, all of my relationships got healthier. Hate is poison. It is opium. It is a drug addiction, and I let it go.
But like any addiction, it seems like my heart longs to hate. And so I have to be weary of it.
I think that is enough for today,