So, what else do I experience when I fear my father. let's have a look. Just some moments ago, I was sitting in the kitchen and finishing my cup of tea, all the while speaking self-forgiveness (silently to myself) to figure out why I was reluctant to walk to the front-room - where my dad was watching football - and take a dvd from the 'schouw' (dutch term). The 'problem' was that if I would just proceed to get the dvd wich I would then go watch upstairs on my own - my father would inevitably see me. Now, why is this such a big deal? First of all, this is my general situation - I'm 'supposed to' be looking for a job, or at the very least be thinking about it - but actually right now i am not, in any way. There's two reasons: first, my intestins are still giving me a hard time and make me impossible to focus most parts of the day - wich make me practically useless, but there is improvemetn as I walk trough the forgivenss, step by step. Secondly, I'm seeing at how long I can hold this out - meaning this situation: me still not working and still livin under my fathers roof and this for allmost eight monts now.
So, a couple of nights ago, my father got angry with leila for some bullshit reason - he asked, "are you still up/awake? (and not in your bed cuz tommorrow you have school)" in angry tone of voice. Because I stood there aswell, I say: "While yes, she is," trying to make him see the banality and irrelevant startingpoint of his question. To make long story short, for few days now, he's really nervous, and it's aggravating, because I had given him 'arrogant response', but he take it out on leila. Anyways there's a general atmosfere like he can use any event as an excuse to get mad, and I catch myself all the time wanting to be carefull to not upset him unnessecarily. He's so irritable right now I rather avoid him. my father, he's actually like a truck. He load all the time all this frustration and trauma, in many different ways, and then when he can no longer take it, - and he supresses his load extra-hard with alcohol and non-stop television - he's gonna search a way for him to be able to 'unload' - to express his anger towards someone, through merciless blame and shouting, so he may feel better again fo a while and start loading again.
So - where do i stand in all of this? I'm scared like shit he might get mad, that's how things are right now. Note, it has got nothing to do with me not working - anger don't work according to any 'logic'. That's why I dont even consider looking for or finding myself a job a valid 'solution' to this particular problem. This is not to say, I won't work just to be a pain in the ass for him - when I'm ready to work, THEN I will work.
Again, what was my fear? what did it consist of? Well, there's a genral problem that 'arise in this moment before my eyes'. My father never knows what the hell I'm doing. I kind of keep my whole life 'secret' to him - so he won't judge me, or want to interfere. Its interesting how I manage to do this even now. I spend all day on the second floor (my room), writing and speaking forgiveness and watching films on my laptop to - yes, distract myself- , while he live on the two other floors and mostly downstairs - so we mostly just sit together for dinner and that's it. He soens't even know anything about desteni or process or whatever. Right now to speak to him about this things - now, that is not an option. He'll just assume I got involved in some sect and dragged my sisters along with me. He doesn't hear anyone but himself, so I dont bother anymore. When I got into research a year and a half ago on 9/11 and I tried to talk to him about it, he just got furious (because I - offcourse - got brainwashed) and we nearly started to fight about it. So imagine what it'd be when i start explaining to him what a mind-system consist of and talk about dimensions....
Ok, again. What does my fear consist of? Well, also there is my fear of him even being around. It make's me completely uncomfortable - knowing he's in the house, completely changes my mood. More specificly I don't like it to be in his near presence, this due to his unpredictablity - I never understand whatever he does, especially his anger allways surprises me. His anger allways comes in sudden moments, when you don't expect it. So it's often awkward to be in his presence, because he never talk much and actually keep everything that goes on in his mind, to himself. but when he's irritated, the rule is he sooner or later take it out on my or my sisters, whatever the source of his frustration. And what i also have found very scarey is how fast he supress himself. One moment he can be a raging madman and the next he's all 'calmness' again, watching television 'peacefully'. My mother would use this to reasure me: look, he's already forgotten all about it! But me I would still be tormented inside, nevertheless. The fucked up thing is, my mother told me this becuase she thought it would actually reasure me. (Nope. Not reasuring. You maried a psychopath!) I found this very very frightening aspect of his anger, the way it would come up and then vanish again, as if nothing had happened. See, that's the crazy thing. I'd be all tormented and traumatized inside for several hours and even longer - several days -and he would just go about his day, not mentionning what happened ever again - it simply did not happen, it was seemingly of no importance to him. There was no 'balancing' of anything - there was just him exerting his anger and we suffering it. That's the way it was. Now i think back at it, this really strikes me. there seemed to be some sort of agreement of forgetfullness. These moments where my father got mad, could never be mentionned afterwards. Once we spoke about it to my mother - only ONCE ! - and it was actually leila who was unafraid to bluntly say: "I'm tired of dady beating the crap out of us!" ("Ik ben het duswell beu dat papa ons altijd afslaagt, hè!") And my mom only replied, as if we were making abig deal out of nothing, and trying to de-base the serioussnes of leila's question: "Have you been sitting and talking together again, yes?" Wow, now I just write these words I cannot believe she actually said that... But she did. It was tue, we had been sittig and talking together. We did this sometimes, sit together and dream about leavng the house. But we'd put it in strange terms. we would want to 'move to another house' - as if the problem was generated by the house. Well, life was this house actually. So, moving to another house meant: moving to another life. I'd love this, to pretend to my sisters we'd one day move to another house, even if I knew then already that such athing was actually impossible for us to get from the ground. I dont know if maite and leila both belived it, next time I'll ask. This, however, we perceived to be the only solution for the injustice we were living. To just fucking beat it.
But anyways, it was clear from that moment on - as a certainty - that our mother wasn't actually on our side. We were on our own, we received no support. I dont remember my mother ever interfering with my father when he would get mad at us -I mean physicly. Maybe a few times she stood by the side and said to my father: "allright, allright, now its enough, " but never after he'd make his 'point' though. I always had thought her interfearence had been completely redundant and of no real help. I must admit that - things being as they were - I was relieved my mother dared to speak to him, even if it was of no real avail. It proved to me it was not impossible for her to do. But this I now remember - she did only on or two times - when my father was clearly getting mad over a misunderstanding. Hmmm...
I dunno if I gonna write about this, because I dont see where it will bring me this time... but, i'm writing already ain't I? So, once my father had beaten me - I was in first or second grade of public school - 'because I had started shouting to my mother' - because i was getting frustrated over some schoolwork and her questions didn't help me, so he came in - and his face, boy, I can hardly remember having seen him THIS mad. His lips were curled so all his teeth were revealed and he gave me one big smash in the face. I dropped myself to the ground out of complete fear and panic not knowning of anything better to do, just protect myself and my head, and then he'd continue kicking me with his leg and again I felt he was holding himself back - that he would actually like to kick me much harder. And he shouted: you don't shout at your mother! I had apparently commited a holy crime. I had actually just raised my voice somewhat out of frustration. So, that's when mom interfeared, in the end, saying it was well now.
Me I fled to my room and my nose was bleeding. Now - he had not punshed me. So i said to myself he had not inteded for my nose to bleed. 'he just hit me in a way he did not intend to' - wich was true. normally he would slap me with more 'precision'. So - in a weird twist of mind - I understood it to be an accident from wich he could be excused. Before I ran upstairs my mom had asked me to wash my nose (actaully to hide the fact I had a nosebleed), before I got down again, because my father had not taken notice of it yet. but instead I let it bleed a while letting the blood show itself clearly under my nose, and THEN I went down again, pretending to need somthing from the livingroom. My father was still speaking with a mad tone of voice to my mother - they were standing in the kitchen - very agitated and still quite angry. So, the moment he took notice of me he fel silent and his face even went a little pale. My mother immediately reacted - shocked - "I told you to wash it off !" because to her it was obvious I wanted to make my father feel bad about himself, wich was the case. Well, I was not lying or anything, i was just showing him what he'd actually done - It is true, because I felt sorry for myself too. I gave my father a specific look too: I was frowning and looking in a blamefull way. It wasn't clear to me though if I was standing in my right or not, but I knew - from television - that now I had some sort of proof of his violence. And this proof I wanted to use against him. It was the firts time - that i remember of - it was me blaming him. Now my mother felt sorry for him again, and so
wow, I just had massive revalation as I was reading kiki's blog - i dont remember how exactly, but check this out: the reason why I left the blood where it was, is because i felt like a hero now. Amazing... This hero-motief, even though I just discovered it, put many things in an unexpected perspective. I actually remember it. I was watching at my own blood with a cartain sense of admiration towards myself. Wow, I had managed to get a nosebleed! Like the heroes, when they do their endless fights, they allways end up having nosebleeds. very, very, interesting. Imagine, just recently I had fantasized over making a post with the title 'Hero vs Victim' - wich I didn't make because it would heve been a fabricated presentation. But here I am - realising in the moment. Being a hero means being a victim aswell - every true hero is a victim. It's both the same - one polarity. (remember, every 'hero' get attacked sooner or later)
Thereore, I was upset when my mother shouted I should wash my nose, after i had come down, because she made it clear to me: I was no hero, but a coward.
nice, how things can 'fall into place' unexpectedly. Much better than thinking of a storyplot !