Pounding them hard.
Pounding them like my heart would pound in the wee hours of morning as a child.
Pounding these lettered plastic keys like they are bones being turned to dust.
And this pounding will not yield much relief or vengeful satisfaction because, as Chaucer put it so simply,"Forbid us something, and that thing we desire." Still, I am slamming away at my Logitech K260 Model keyboard with heated thought. Each slam of the space bar is my mind willing its force towards that which I despise so much for the turmoil and pain I will never get complete closure to. Every time I harshly tap the period key, it is one more moment of emotional wounding tearing through my physical form when all I want to do is banish these things from my daily contemplations of "where to go from here".
One would think if relief were surely desired, I would "man up" and move on. Sweep the nasty little shards of broken years under the rug of my stubborn headed skull. Sadly, I am human, and we are known for our lack of follow through in almost anything, depending on our mood that day. Sometimes, I look at this mess I have been cleaning up for the last 35 years, and I wonder if it isn't almost like an addiction. You lock up all the hurt, unresolved conflict, and hopeless hopes, and every now and then, you just have to wallow in them.
Boy, am I wallowing tonight.
So where did all of this start? Well, I think what started my official filling of the sorrowful bathtub to lounge around in began with a posting by my father this afternoon, but we all know that is probably just what snapped my limits and caused me to unbolt the doors of my pain filled closets. And I say closets, because one couldn't hold all my skeletons. Really though, I think this has been working on me for a couple of weeks now. Earlier in this month, I had posted about my mother giving my eldest son a call after a nearly 3 month hiatus of communication with him altogether, on her part. Then, about a week and a half ago, my father called, inviting my eldest to an event for cleaning up a local waterway. Not too eventful a phonecall. Said he would call him back with the actual day and time, which I told my son shouldn't be a problem either way since his grandfather promised to not make a big deal about his bug phobia this time. Then, just last week, I fielded a call from my youngest boy's father, asking if I had plans for the weekend since my father had called asking to take our child out to a movie or something. I already had plans of course, so I advised to say not this weekend. Now, this was slightly irritating. They have my number, my email address, and my father tries to go around me, and get my ex to cut off my weekend time without me being asked first. Stil, I let it roll off.
Today, I get a phonecall from my ex again. My parents called him asking to let me know they had been in a terrible accident, the truck was totalled, and they were on their way by ambulance to the hospital, though they are sure they will be fine. While it is true I could give a shit less their condition, it bothered me my ex was being used as a go between of sorts. I made it clear to my ex that they have not been forbidden to leave me a voicemail or email and that by no means should he feel obligated to be a third party to all of this. He didn't seem to mind since he is currently keeping a foot in their ass to see our son, but he promised he wouldn't try to negotiate any "peace talks". Relieved he understood the boundaries, I hung up.
Fast forward to a few hours ago, and my oldest son logs on to FB. Mind you, he is friends with them on there, which I do not mind or care. None of my business is my attitude so long as they communicate to him, about him, and not weed out information about me. I've always told my son to advise nosey folks to go to the source, and if they don't get an answer, tough nuts, it isn't your problem. My kids and I like this arrangement and takes the pressure off of them for the most part. I digress, sorry. So, Sean mentions that Grampy is posting on Granny's FB page, and he shows me a new picture of the cat, something mom baked recently, etc.
No big deal until the almost journal like entries pop up. And it pains me to tears that I actually read this one:
"As I awoke this morning I found a mess our aging dog had left in the family room. Needless to say it was not solid. I cleaned it up and then used the rug cleaner to take care of the rest of the matter quickly. It was very early at the time and Marquita was in bed and I knew she would awaken from the noise but it had to be done. Three hours later another 'accident' happened and Marquita found it and was not happy about it. While helping her we also talked about what we go through physically at our ages as each of us found bruises on our feet but were clearing up. I said we were very fortunate, that, at our age, we were more well off than others who could not walk or live a more active life in various ways. And I said we still had the joy of God in our hearts. As I went outside to attend to something the Lord spoke to my heart and reminded of how many people are living today without joy, instead prefering to live a life of complaining and hurt. They don't realize they actually 'nurse and nuture' those feelings simply by keeping them in their hearts and thinking about (meditating) and speaking about them daily. It was at that moment that the Lord brought to my attention that we can also give our joy nuturing as well by thinking on what blessings we have and not allowing hurt feelings to overtake our thinking, no matter how those feelings came about. It was something I had not realized before. I had already determined long ago that things like worry, guilt or condemnation from the past or present were not going to rob me of my joy. I was the one, and only I, who could decide what to think and not to think. If you're having trouble living a joyful life and your thoughts seem to center around things that make you feel badly about life then check out what your thoughts are. What you think has a big impact on the way you live. In Proverbs 23: 7 we find 'For as he (man) thinketh in his heart so is he."
This passage really hurt me to the core, and elicited such a blinding anger - outrage even - it took everything for me to not call this bastard up. Just typing this has my throat feeling constricted, eyes tight, and shoulders frozen with such pain. I look at this particular part of the message and I just cry with hopeless angst because he will never see what he has done. He applies blind Christian faith tactics to his wrongdoings.
I had already determined long ago that things like worry, guilt or condemnation from the past or present were not going to rob me of my joy. I was the one, and only I, who could decide what to think and not to think.
How does one get joy by avoiding responsibility for transgression? I have had to look at every single one of my family members over the years, knowing they were well aware of my having stolen money, my impulsive lying, sneaking out of the house, and having the police at their home throughout my childhood and early adulthood. I know these family members have listened to my mother crying about how I nearly drove their marriage into the ground just to get out of that horrible home. And while I stand in front of these relatives who have my complete history of malfeasance, I don't say a word in my defense. I don't cry about what my father did to me, how my mother neglected my mental illness as a child, or how I have struggled and won the fight to control my anger. I realize I go on and on about how I want to clear my name. I want to show that while I am ultimately responsible for who I am, my parents neglected issues that could have resolved long before I reached adulthood and hurt my own family.
I don't understand how he cannot understand emotional scars and trauma. He is the product of an abusive childhood, so I know he deals with irrational thoughts, memories that haunt his daily life, and probably nightmares/sleep disturbances. To this day, once or twice a week, I will wake up horrified that I might have wet the bed again. Absolutely horrified, and embarrassed upon waking only to find that it didn't happen. This is an occurrence I cannot seem to get rid of, but after spending the first 12 years of my life wetting the bed, I guess I might not ever get rid of the feelings associated with it. It would be nice if it would stop haunting my sleep though. There's my instant fear and dread when I hear men raise their voices in argument. I still get that queezy feeling in my stomach when in those situations and am shaken for at least half an hour after the incident is over. My job, with angry truck drivers and dispatchers was really starting to take a toll on my every day nerves.
So much baggage to sort out in this life, and he gets to go nimbly pimbly along like nothing will bother him because he has decided he won't let his joy be robbed of him. I just cannot believe that because I have these issues, I am "nurturing" these feelings by acknowledging them and confronting them. If I didn't do so, I might still be physically violent. To think, even though he physically, verbally, emotionally, and sexually abused me, he shouldn't let those things bother him.
He DESERVES joy, he says.
The Lord told him so he said.
Well, the "Lord" told me to NOT forgive his self-righteous, self-worshipping, self-serving ass. I don't want him asking me for forgiveness. I wanted him to see what harm he has wrought in my life, see the legacy of abuse he helped to spread through me, and maybe, just maybe, offer some support in getting control. All I have ever been told is that I am a free loader, a joke, a fake, a liar, a failure, a sinner.
I realize now he is jealous. Everything he has ever thrown at me has been without any grounds.
He says I am a failure. He never finished college, and retired from a shitty machinist job after 30 years with a whole whopping $216/month as a pension, having never earned more than $13/hr. I on the other hand have TWO degrees under my belt, along with multiple certifications and have put my education to use in jobs that I have mostly enjoyed and earned a hell of a lot more at.
He says I am a joke. He abused his child on every level possible, and says God spoke to him and encouraged him to be have joy in life. THAT is a joke.
I could go on and on. He has no merit, and I know this. It has to be jealousy. I have been in relationships with people I actually LIKE. I do things that make me happy, and despite what he thinks of it, I have a lot of support and appreciation for what I do. My kids can actually approach me now, and I am honest with them when given the chance. He could never say he has any of these things.
He is downright psychopathic to think if God is real that he is forgiven and has entrance to Heaven. You cannot repent to this so called God without being genuine of heart and intention. I know this because he would preach this at me every time I screwed up.
Same rules apply asshole.