to my father

I am so angry at my father. I know he has no understanding of how broken I became from all the verbal abuse, or as he would see it "teasing." Bullying was about being hit by someone, not teased. He lives by the saying, "sticks and stones will break your bones but names will never hurt you." I know he does not mean to hurt me. I know he loves me and has spent so much financially to give me a good life. I have tried to be around successfully. I wanted my parents in my life because I love them both but I have failed. I have cost them money, because they wanted to help me. I know they feel their money was wasted because it did not help enough. I unintentionally used it poorly. I am sorry I did not succeed because I truly wanted to. I would succeed today if I could. I know their money helped me even though they don't understand that. They see it as a waste. Even when I lose my house, I won't change my mind.

I think I understand my father. I think he is so angry at his mother for favoring his sister over himself and his brothers that he inadvertently did the same by favoring my brothers over me. I also think he just doesn't relate to women. He ignores what doesn't make sense to him. That is a justifiable error.

I know both my parent reacted to his mother by trying to be fair to us, their children, and that they saw fair as a financial calculation. My father believes as I do that men do not ever women. But as children, my brothers found that so unfair (punishment being visibly and painfully different). I know that they got even by taunting me, which my father did not see as harm. They were children and bullying wasn't even considered real harm.

To this day no one in my family sees what they did or do as harm. I also believed as a child my father would have killed my brother had found our what he did to me. I feared his anger. I empathize and feel the violence and then I had no understanding that I wasn't really experiencing it. After all, I was never hit so I didn't know what that was actually like. Also, I was muted by the horrific nature of my own brother attacking me sexually. I was Catholic. I was so naive.

No one in my family understands why what seems like "nothing really happened" impacted me so deeply.

In my family things like this are never spoken. Neither is depression. I believe my father believes it is something you can overcome with character. I often think the same and wonder why I can't change.

I wish he understood how much pain he causes me. I wish I was not broken. I wish my family would stop hurting me. I wish they believed that I felt hurt, it was real, and they were hurting me.

The sad thing is my father had a major hand in breaking me. He was unaware and the result was unintentional. I have been clinging to the edge all my life, trying to live well. I have spent my life trying to fix myself and to fit in. I so often blind and I have failed.

He intentionally does thing that hurt, even when I tell him, because I think he doesn't believe they should hurt me, and he's angry at my choice of home. I know he believes I am wrong and he is well intentioned.

I admire my father. He chose to make a living building oil skimmers back in the 1960s. He gave all four of us a superb education. He gave me the refuge of camp each summer and he did he best as he saw it to keep me safe. No one knew about Rai. He gave me a beautiful wedding, hoping I would no longer be his problem to worry about. He has helped financially when I needed a new car, and repairs when it broke, He paid many of my bills when I was in need and it has cost him doing stuff for his life.

My family prefers silence to knowing the truth. No one ever asked my story about when Rai molested. No one wanted to know even when Rai threatened to boycott Christmas if I came when it slipped out and Rai felt threatened by me. Even after I had reassured him I would never harm his children by telling them. (It was an accident that anyone ever found out. I blurted it out to Rich in reaction to his taunting without meaning to.) Even after Rai had spent Thanksgiving with me and everything went well. I agreed not to come when mother called me upset because her grandchildren, (not my children, but his) would not becoming to Christmas, I agreed not to come, explained I had not threatened him and that I would bring my kids but not attend so she could have her children for Christmas. I felt guilty that I had unintentionally let it out that he had molested me, and I felt abandoned when heard his telling of the story and didn't want to know mine. I think they suspected worse then they heard and neither my mother nor father wanted to know. Fact is, I know my mother didn't want to know. I don't if or what my father was told. No one has ever asked me to tell what happened.

No one appreciated the subtle betrayal, that screams out, "I am not as valued as my brothers." I kept silent for over 30 years out of kindness, because I knew no one wanted to know. I don't know what else I could have done since no one ever wanted to know.

I want my family to understand how much I love them and that I stay away because I am in so much pain I can't hide it any more. I can't trust myself to not explode at smallest push and I am so afraid I will say things I will forever regret.

I know I am so angry inside that I will explode at small provocations, and when I do it will be an unreasonable reaction. (It has happened before and as infrequently I as I can manage it,) I can't control it. I have tried and failed more than once, and at this point I am way too close to the edge. I blew up in front of Richie's kids and they were terrified. I didn't mean to and I wished I hadn't. I have no control when pushed too far and no one understands that. They believe I was at fault for reacting. From their point of view they are right. I did overreact.

I am so sorry I am dying because I am failing to live.