Don't leave me now/How could you go?/When you know how I need you
To beat to a pulp on a Saturday night
Ooh babe, don't leave me now/How can you treat me this way?
Why are you running away? ~ Pink Floyd
I have been struggling with depression for a little while now. Going back to the UK as I did last September has indeed proved to have been a massive mistake with regards to my mental health, and it is a mistake that will not be repeated again in this lifetime. I had been doing so much better emotionally in 2016 but then I had to go and sabotage myself, as I always seem to do. The chaos, violence and shame of my childhood is like a stain that won't wash out. It will not wash out, I get that now without any doubt. I cannot change who or what I am. I lived with a sociopathic abuser for so long that it has made me an extremely flawed individual, full of self doubt and insecurities, constantly in survival mode, with an inability to listen or to trust in my gut feelings. I made a vow to myself some time back that, in future, I was not going to ignore my instincts. When my gut tells me "That's a bad idea" I am trying to listen.
Yesterday, a friend - in a roundabout kind of way - made it known that she felt I had given up. Well, she doesn't know the half of it as far as my life is concerned. She only knows what I've told her and it's a highly edited version of my past and present. She has no freaking idea what I've had to survive.
And yes, I am a survivor. I take pride in knowing that paradoxically I seem to be made of some strong stuff. I wouldn't be alive today were that not the case. And, of course, my spouse takes big credit for bringing me this far in life even though I've made his life intolerable at times. I guess what I'm trying to say is, be kind to your children if you have them. It's a huge injustice to affect another person's life in such a negative way as this. Many times I feel unlovable and unwanted, even though that just isn't true!! That inner voice that has been relentlessly triggered by being around my awful male parent again keeps telling me that I'm ugly, worthless, shameful, stupid. I'm still that little girl cowering in fear, wondering if the psychotic bully that is my father is about to kill me and bury me in the back garden. That was a regular threat. Among others.
My extended UK family have been keeping me informed with regards to the goings on with my parents. I will no longer have anything to do with my father because he turns me into a raging, irrational, hysterical individual. That is not who I've wanted to be in the decades since I left the UK and moved 6000 miles away. However, every time I get near this man I want to smash his face in. I want to tell everyone what he did to us.... my mother, sister and me. On the occasions when I have told people what this sociopath was like to live with, they cannot relate. They see a charming, funny, 'good' man with strong 'values' and could never imagine him capable of the violence and spittle inducing rage into which he devolves when things do not go his way. They don't see his massive hands like shovels, capable of knocking a woman or child into the middle of next week, or the hair trigger temper that cocks off on a split second. And then I feel devalued even further, incapable of fully relating what a monster this man truly is. He continues to trick people to this day, the latest being my brother in law. They are drinking buddies. DUI partners in crime.
I have gone No Contact.
Cut a longer story short, my male parent has been in the hospital multiple times since September 2016. The heart issues that he claimed to have had for years were debunked finally by a cardiologist. The sperm donor was told that his heart was fine, as fine as it could be for a 78 year old man. Following that, two surgical operations were performed including a knee replacement. The knee replacement was two weeks ago and he has been back inside twice with complications. Personally, I think the knee replacement at his age was a big mistake because, if it fails, he will be wheelchair bound.
Meanwhile, my mother's dementia has gotten worse and she now needs assistance to wash and dress. She cannot read or write or talk on the phone, so if I was so inclined to phone my parents it would be pointless. I don't want ~ and have never wanted ~ to speak to my male parent. I was only ever interested in my mother and seeing as how she can no longer talk to me, well ....... the point is moot now. My mother is deteriorating quickly and probably doesn't remember who I am anyway.
My sister, despite having 3 grown children, has never learned to cook so her husband has been doing all the cooking. He takes my parents their meals. A house cleaner was supposedly hired some weeks back but has never put in an appearance and so the house continues to be filthy, hence my male parent's latest bacterial infection involving cellulitis of the lower leg. He is such a cheapskate that keeping my mother locked up in a filthy house is preferable to paying for her to receive proper care. The last thing he wants is to have to pay for a nursing home. I think I'm the only person to realize this fact but I have made a point of telling the extended family so that at least they are aware that Mr. Sociopath is up to his usual tricks.
When my spouse first met me, I was a raging bull. I kept it all inside mostly but every now and then my spouse would get a glimpse of it. My outlet for years was spending, hoarding and engaging in risky behavior of every kind: DUI, spending every cent, gambling, befriending sociopaths, smashing the house up. And that was the stuff that people actually saw. I won't go into the stuff that people didn't see. That stuff can't be allowed to see the light of day.
There has to be an end to this. At some point, will I ever be free. Will there ever be a day when I can put these 3 people ~ my mother, my sister, my male parent ~ out of my mind and keep it that way forever? The 4 of us share such an unhealthy dynamic, my sister is still full of rage. The spouse was astonished by the barely concealed level of it this past September. He had never realized before but this time .... wow. She was like an unsprung bear trap.
Guilt, rage, shame, hatred, revenge. I think of my broken male parent, chair and house bound, stuck, in agony with infection from a knee op that is possibly failing and a wife who doesn't know him anymore, and I feel a perverse pleasure. What sort of person does that make me? This hurt runs so deep that it is indeed pathological. I think to myself, Now you're getting yours, 'Dad', and it feels good in a sick way. I admit it. I want him to feel the terror of isolation, the fear of being forgotten, the pain of injury, the realization that he is a piece of shit. OK, he probably won't realize that last one because that would entail taking personal responsibility and he's too damaged for that.
The spouse told me back in August to think really hard before booking those tickets to the UK. I knew I should've listened to him because that trip has set me back years emotionally. I wish I could turn the clock back, listen to my gut, keep making those excuses to my UK family as to why I couldn't go back there, can't ever go back.
Oh, I can't get the time off work.
I have a house full of pets and no one to take care of them.
So-and-so has to have surgery.
I have to become a citizen before I can leave the country.