The Whole Story
“Anger vented often leads towards forgiveness; anger concealed often leads towards revenge.” — Anna Niebuhr and Mariah Brown
I’ve mentioned that my father was abusive in previous posts. I’ve probably even written about some incidences and described the overall vibe in our home. I have never written a specific post explaining the nature of the abuse in detail. I’ve never really even talked about the specifics to anyone.
I was talking to a friend today about the guilt I still feel over the fact that his long-term serious illness annoyed me, how I used to roll my eyes and begrudgingly show up whenever some major medical emergency occurred, about how relieved I was when he finally died, and about how pissed off I still am that I never truly got to tell him how much I hated him and why.
Up until the day he died I had revenge fantasies. There were two different versions. The first one was that he acknowledged and sincerely apologized for and regretted the way he had treated me. I get to tell him it’s too little, too late and he can go fuck himself. The second one is that he attempts to berate, insult or degrade me while in a narcissistic rage and completely devoid of fear, I tell him he no longer has any power over me, what a piece of shit coward he was for bullying his young daughters and again…he can go fuck himself.
I never got the chance to even attempt to realize either of these fantasies. He was very sick for a very long time. He was a completely different person. He was just a frail, pathetic shell of the “man” he once was. We never discussed his behavior when I was his child. I felt guilty for all the anger, hate, annoyance and revenge fantasies because he was just a sick, weak man. That really pissed me off. I felt gypped. Any opportunity that ever possibly existed to enact one of my revenge fantasies disappeared as he got sick.
The day he died, I cried. I cried at his wake and funeral. In fact, the day of the funeral I tried to get out of going. I sobbingly told hubby I couldn’t go. It would be the last time I saw him. Forever. All hope of my revenge fantasies were officially dashed. More devastating, all hope of him ever loving me was also dashed.
I know we aren’t supposed to speak so harshly about our parents. We definitely aren’t supposed to speak so harshly about the dead. These societal “shoulds” are what have caused my guilt over my true feelings. I’m supposed to miss him. I’m supposed to feel some great loss. I’m supposed to remember him fondly. I don’t. I never have.
Maybe explaining some of the sordid details will help with understandng how and why I feel the way I do. It is difficult to talk about. It was supposed to be the big family secret. It is painful and humiliating. I don’t want pity. I’m a grown woman with a pretty damn good life. I just need to get all this baggage out of my system.
The worst of the abuse was verbal/emotional abuse. He called me names such as whore, little bitch, slut, etc. These are only some of the words he used. I know that I have forgotten most of the words. I used to kind of blank out, go to another place in my own head, and wait for the storm to end. Based on discussions I’ve had with my sister, I know he also frequently asked, ‘What’s wrong with you?!”. My blanking out served me well, in that I don’t remember every horrible thing he ever said. It is also confusing as hell to have the vast majority of your childhood “missing”.
I do remember the rages. Any little thing could set him off. Once ignited, that time bomb could not be disarmed. I got it at full throttle. I remember psychotic narcissistic rages in which I was screamed at for hours and hours on end. The punishment never fit the crime. Most times there was no crime. I remember that during these rages, he would also hit me, pull my hair and throw things at me. Once, a full 2 liter bottle of pop was whipped at my head. Another time, a large can of coffee. One of his favorite tactics would be to ask some ridiculous question (such as, “what’s wrong with you?”) and then demand an answer but tell me to shut up as soon as I started talking and then smack me in the head or across the face. These rages went on for hours and hours. He never left one bruise, cut or any outward wounds. He was particularly fond of getting right into my face, pulling my hair so that I was forced to look directly into his face, just inches away from mine as he screamed insults at me, spit landing all over my humiliated face.
Every single time I swore I was not going to cry. He was NOT going to get to me. Every single time, I did. I beat myself up for being so weak. When it was finally over I would go to my room and scream into a pillow and sob. I felt completely and utterly helpless and alone. I would plot runaway attempts. I would wish for him to leave or die. I would fantasize about my mom getting us the hell out of there. None of it ever happened.
Well, actually, he did finally die, after an excruciatingly long illness but I was an adult, out on my own by then. It brought me no pleasure seeing him so sick. It just pissed me off that I felt like I had no excuse for cutting him out of my life. My mom and sister needed what little help I was able to provide. I felt it was my duty to be there for him and for them.
Today, when I hear about a true narcissist who behaves similarly, these revenge fantasies are brought vividly back to life. I have actual emotional flashbacks. I want to confront the narcissist when he’s in the middle of a psychotic rage to let him know I’m not scared anymore and take him down a notch. Actually, several notches. I’d like to totally emasculate each and every one of them. There is one at work but he doesn’t bother me enough to even get into a discussion with. A couple of friends are married to narcissists but they are their battles, not mine.
I will never get the chance to have my father (or a similar substitute) finally love me. I will never get the chance to live out one of my revenge fantasies. I will never out-manipulate a narcissist. I will never hurt a narcissist. They have no actual human emotions. I need to find a way to give this up and move on. Right now, after having just talked about it recently, I am just really bitter and pissed off that the bastard got sick and died without ever taking responsibility for his actions, throwing me even one tiny crumb to show he loved me or giving me my shot at him as an adult. Hopefully continuing to talk about it and write about it will help me move closer to forgiveness.
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Wow Cyndi…thanks for sharing your story – very courageous.
Thank you.
I know some of these moments. My dad was a drunk. He’s still here, lives one thousand miles away. Doesn’t recall one thing he’s done.
You said one thing that clicked with me too. He was sick. He was blind, deaf and sick. It had nothing to do with you. No one was home. He couldn’t give you something he didn’t have to give.
I am sometimes triggered in the same ways. I go ahead and cry if I feel like it. I often feel it’s the nine year old in me that didn’t get too. And this is the perfect place to share those places in you that piss you off. I admire your willingness to share the bullshit when it hits you.
It gives us all permission to voice our selves. I love you to infinity for your ability to be so fully human … you are wonderful. Keep it coming.
Well said. It absolutely is the nine year old inside. It’s all been stuffed down for so long that the nine year old emotions remain. I feel like I have to get those out in order to grow and actually deal with life as a full-blown adult. Thank you so much.
Jesus Christ! I can smell his smell…..you know how everyone has a smell……and when they are in your face, like you so vividly described, I can totally remember his smell.
Thanks for the pounding heart of fear right before bed! LOL
I am totally kidding!
I can’t remember his smell. It’s weird how I’ve blocked out so much of what you remember. Sorry about the anxiety attack right before bed, even though I know you’re kidding, you weren’t prepared for it. I prescribe wine and a phone call in the morning.
cyndi, it makes me so sad and angry that you had to grow up with a father like that. people like that should not have children — but then again, you would not be here if he hadn’t.
you come across on here like one of the most lovable, passionate, compassionate, smartest women i have known. and from your photos, you have the good fortune of also being beautiful. your father did not crush you. he did not diminish you. he may never hear you say it, but he did not win.
thank you for sharing. *hugs*
Thank you so much Lynette, that was very sweet. No, he definitely didn’t crush me and he died a long, painful and horrible death. I wouldn’t be me without any of my past experiences but nonetheless, it has come back to haunt me.
and one more thing, to think about…. in my own search to get beyond my own situation and find release from the anger that burns inside me, i have read, A LOT. one of the philosophies i have explored relies on buddhism. in buddhist practices, being unable to let go of this type of anger is seen (truly) as only hurting you. you are not hurting him — he is gone. in allowing the anger to continue to surge, you would be considered as allowing him to still have power over you.
i wish you healing and forgiveness, for you and for your happiness. you would be forgiving him for you.
(btw, i know i am a fine one to talk
when i think about the above, my reaction is to think “but i have every right to be angry!!!” so much for progress…)
No, this is a great point and one of the many reasons I am so drawn to Buddhism. I know this anger is only hurting me. It’s more like I’m only beginning to realize that I even still have this anger. I buried it. Deep. It’s all seeping out in all sorts of ways and has been for a couple of years. I feel like I’ve made tremendous progress but still have a very long way to go. Writing about it publicly is one way I am attempting of letting it go. Studying psychology and Buddhism are two other ways. Drinking is another.
LOL!!!
I am so sad about this post. It really bothers me that your father treated you that way. It reminds me of when I watch the nighty news and hear stories of child abuse. The stories literally turn my stomach and my heart aches for those children (and you). I pray that by writing this post, venting and letting out your true feelings that you can really heal. Although revenge always sounds wonderful, it never seems to feel very good when you actually do it. The fact that your dad is no longer around to “get back at” may really be a blessing [in disguise--??]
BTW, I wrote a post about some heavy family secrets myself, and man….I could hear a pin drop afterward. I think some people just don’t know what to say when you write such personal feelings in a blog post. I appreciate it from others and enjoy it myself. I am open and honest, very sensitive and kind. I guess others can take or leave it.
Some people still believe that talking about these things is impolite or best kept secret. I am not one of those people. I think the more we talk about our BS, the more we find there are so many others out there who experienced the same things. It helps us all to feel less alone and reinforces our feelings.
I’m so sorry you had to put up with that crap, Cyndi. It was almost like a karmic thing that he became frail and sickly in his later years. I knew another narcissist that was knocked down quite a few pegs by this kind of ending. I always have a million questions in my mind when I hear stories like this (not that I expect you to answer). What made him like this? What pleasure can one get treating one’s own children this way? Do you resent your mother for making you put up with him? Why didn’t she leave? I also wonder why you still want his love. Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with me because I don’t think I would care. I know so many more like you that were mistreated and yet still look for that missing love.
These are excellent questions that I have asked myself a million times. I told myself for years that I didn’t care. It’s the little girl in me who feels as if she is unlovable because if my own parents didn’t love me, something must be horribly wrong with me. As that child, I did everything I could to “earn” their love and never got it. Missing parental love leaves a hole that many people try to fill with addictions, distractions, or hooking up with men just like their fathers to try to do it “better”. I got lucky in that I actually have a good life and a non-narcissistic husband. I’m only just beginning to realize how much anger lies beneath the surface that I buried a long time ago. My mother…yes, I resent her. Tremendously. Growing up I saw her as a co-victim. Not that he ever abused her, just because I felt trapped there and he was a bigger problem then she was to me. I now know that she could have taken care of her children but sold us out for whatever she got out of that relationship. She didn’t leave because she too is a narcissist and grew up in a situation that she believed was worse than the one we were in with my father. I’ve talked to her siblings. It was exactly the same. As for him….he, being a narcissist, gained power when he abused us. When he had a bad day or felt slighted in some way, or just felt bad about himself for some reason is when it was the worst. It’s sick and twisted but that is the way of the narcissist. I know very little about his childhood so I have no clue how he ended up that way. I would love to know too.
Well, I am sure finding out at the tender age of 13 that his real mother SOLD him for $200 in an alley had a sizeable impact on his ability to love and receive love. Plus, moving around every year and never having a home most likely forced him create the “everything is fine” persona that we ended up becoming extensions of.
As for mom, I personally don’t agree with her decision to stay but I do understand where that fear/decision came from and how it got there. So, I’m not as angry at her anymore. Was she wrong for not helping us? YES! But, I get it. She’s not a “change/evolving” kind of woman, she’s a fear driven woman.
Oh, I agree that finding out he was adopted by a neighborhood kid was a major contributor. I didn’t know about the being sold for $200 in an alley though. I was always told it was a private adoption arranged by Al Capone’s doctor. Hmmm. That alone though wouldn’t explain the insanity provided that his adoptive parents were good enough.
Moving a lot is tough but lots of people deal with that. I would LOVE to know more about his adoptive parents and how things worked in their relationship and the way they related to him.
I understand why Mom stayed but don’t think that makes it right. I just can’t wrap my brain around sacrificing your own children for any reason. Having said that, I’m not as angry at her anymore either. I see her as two separate people; who she is today and who she was then. I’m still pretty angry at who she was then but have learned to deal with her much better as she is today.
Oh of course, the “adoption” and moving probably wasn’t all of it.
I would LOVE to talk to his first wife and her family!
YES!! Too bad everyone involved had such common last names. We could so track them down otherwise.
Man, how cool would that be?!
(Hey, why doesn’t my pic show up?!)
You need to register here: http://en.gravatar.com/
That will allow your pic to follow you wherever you go on the interwebs.
Cyndi,
Thank you so much for writing this. Like having my own child (he turns two, today) reading it brings up much from my own childhood. Ouch.
Thanks for your comments! I think that is one of the reasons all of this is coming up for me now. As my children get older I think about things like, “this was the age I was when my father did this….” and I am stunned. Happy birthday to your little guy!
I read this post through tears last night because it brought back all of the memories of my own childhood. I think we lived the same one. When I was going through it, I always felt like I was the only one who had such a monster for a father. I would go to my friend’s houses and see how truly loving fathers could be to their daughter’s and I would pray every night that God would bring me a father like theirs. It never happened. Maybe that is why I’m still angry at God. Hmm… Anyway, what I really wanted to tell you was along the lines of power – yours. I know you feel slighted because you never got to exact any type of revenge on your father but as you so aply noted, nothing you could have possibly done to him would have had an impact because narcissists have no feelings. The universe gave you the revenge you sought with his illness. He was a miserable human being his entire life and I firmly believe that when you live that way, it will literally eat you alive – and it did! The best revenge you can have over him is to live the life he tried to rob you of. By calling you names such as stupid, worthless, bitch, whore, unloveable he was trying to set you up for a life of misery (misery loves company you know). But you can have the ultimate revenge on him by living a happy and successful life, thereby proving every malignant thing he ever said to you to have been wrong. The day I decided that it was within my power to let go of all of the BS about my past was the day I started healing. By continuing to hold your feelings of anger and resentment towards him you are continuing to give him the power. The power is yours, your earned it, you deserve it. You just have to take it for your own.
I feel horrible that you were crying!
Funny, I was never angry at God, I just didn’t believe he existed. I’m still not sure about all that.
I only recently realized that I have all this anger and hoping that writing about it and talking about it, among a few other things, will help me to let it go. You are so right that it is only hurting me. I’m working on it and for the most part am pretty happy with my life now. Thank you so much for your insightful comments!
I’ve thought of that too, that his long illness was Karma. That just makes me wonder if he ever considered that as he was going through it. Of course he never would have admitted it, but I still wonder. Hmmmm….I think you just inspired my next post. My blog is getting more and more intense and dark! I’ll have to blog about some silly nonsense soon.
Good that you churned it out of your system dear! Am sure it helped you a lot. Know that you are a wonderful individual and you deserve every bit of happiness you can squeeze out of your life
Have a great day Cyndi.
Cyndi-
You hit to nail on the head when you talk about the role secrecy plays in all of this. I am married to an outwardly successful and wonderful man who is an addict. The impact on the life of my children and myself has been made all the worse by keeping this secret.
Recently we have blown the cover off the secret. It allows each of us to breathe more deeply and react more rationally as the light has been let into this dark part of our lives. I actually think now that his secret is not our secret anymore, he is moving closer to potential recovery himself.
The more people understand that secrets do not need to be kept and that you are not so “abnormal”, the better for each one of us. You telling your secrets have helped so many, I am quite sure!
I’m so sorry about your husband. Yes, secrets will suck the life right out of us all. Especially someone else’s secrets. I hope your husband does work on recovery.
Don’t feel bad about the tears – I relish all emotions – the good, the bad, and the ugly. They are reflection of truth and I try very hard to live in the world of reality. Sometimes I want to jump ship because too many feelings bubble up and cascade at once, but I have learned if you jump away from your feelings too quickly they always come back. Besides, if you aren’t willing to allow yourself to experience the intensity of deep and, yes, sometimes dark emotions, then you’ll miss the intense joy of the good ones too!
You deserve to feel bitter and pissed off (even if it’s not the ‘healthy’ thing to do) but you have gotten revenge — you have overcome the abuse you received as a child and have grown up to be a fantastic woman and mother! While I’ve always felt bad for your mother feeling she had to stay with such an asshole, after reading this I’m finding it hard to continue to feel that way. If Bob EVER treated me or Wendy like this I would have left immediately after the 1st time OR I would have killed him (or at least castrated him).
And this is why I love you!
Thank you for saying such nice things about me.
It’s actually healthy for now. It was more unhealthy when I was pretending I was over it and that everything was fine. It will end up being unhealthy if I don’t unload it. Writing about it like this has already been beneficial, as weird as that may seem.
I know what you mean. I can’t understand how any mother can stand by and watch their child be abused even once, let alone for two entire childhoods plus actively participate in all but the physical. He never laid a hand on her. Believe me, I have thought about this over and over again and the only conclusion I can come to is that she is also a narcissist. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. She made sure that she was never abused again but threw us to the wolves. She is a very strong woman and did not actually have to stay with him for any reason but did claim that she couldn’t afford to be a single mother. I think the truth is that she couldn’t bring herself to admit to anyone that she had married someone just like her father or deal with the “shame” of divorce. It would have tarnished her image. He was a saint in her eyes now. It’s truly nauseating and something we cannot discuss.
thank you for being brave enough to share this with us. though we lived through different things, i understand where you are right now. sometimes we have to open pandora’s box and let ourselves feel everything we need to feel before we can move on. i am praying that you will arrive at forgiveness, not because your dad deserves it but because you need to be set free. continue on my friend. just don’t stop at bitterness.
Im not really sure what to say, but felt compelled to write something…. i hope getting this down really is helping. And I thank you for sharing this, a friend has a very similar relationship with her dad…. he’s still alive and still awful to her. I’m going to send her this blogs way, as i think you articulate how she feels perfectly x
Cyndi,
After all these years…I STILL LOVE YOU, MAN! (yes, I am sober)
Hugs,
Gina
Cyndi- I just found you and read this entry and was so very moved. Thank you for sharing this part of you with your readers. I too hope that writing will present healing….I find it often does. Though your father didn’t love as he should have, you indeed are loved. I wish I had the right words to make it all ok…obviously no one does, but know I hurt with you as I read and desire to lift that from your heart. No child should ever experience what you did. Ever.
Thank you!