It's been a couple weeks since discovering my dad's ugly truth, and my mind hasn't changed. I don't care if you're my dad, Moses, or god himself, no one has a right to talk to anyone like that, and I don't permit abuse in my life. I've suffered enough to know better. I've cried enough tears. Abuse is not welcome here.
My dad's dad was controlling. I don't think it's coincidental that both my dad and his brother destroyed their wives. My uncle's wife died slowly of cancer caused by hpv because of his cheating problem. He literally killed her. My mom died slowly of mental illness that I view as a natural result of being isolated by my dad and stripped of everything she loved one by one while being forced into a servant role. She was very depressed by the time I was in high school. Now she is homeless, due to his vindictiveness and desire to rob her of everything for not being a dutiful enough wife, after all that. Then he had the nerve to blame her, relentlessly, decades after everyone else got over it, shit talking her to me. Red flag, red flag, red flag.
It's too late to save my aunt and my poor shell of a mom that remains. But it's not too late for me. I wish I didn't need to protect myself from my dad's dumbassery, but here we are. No one else will save me.
I understand the difference between love and abuse. I recognize it, I can name it, I have been practicing the art of boundaries for a few years now, and I'm ready to graduate to a harder challenge: my own dad.
I trust myself to know when to close the gate of my castle, and when to let the drawbridge down. Right now my moat is filled with alligators and piranhas, the road to my castle is lined with the impaled heads of all the men who've harmed me, catapults and cannons are outside my door, and I am safe and sound in my watchtower, dancing and living however I please.
All the generations of women before me are with me, in my blood. They are the source of my strength. I will not let them down.
I am fearless. I have survived abuse after abuse. I bleed and feel pain beyond what any man can imagine every month, and live. I have held life in my belly and terminated it. I've been raped, and outwitted my rapist at his own game. I've been drugged against my will and it backfired on him -- even drugged I can't be controlled! I've been threatened by men twice my size. I've been grabbed and spanked and yelled at while walking to therapy. And I'm still alive. I may be invincible.
If I were a man, I wouldn't test me. Crazy runs in the family. I learned from the best. Apparently I have two fugitive cousins who killed men in bar fights and my great grandpa killed a cop, changed his name, and fled to where I live today. All three got away with murder. Any dude wanna test me and find out if it's genetic? Come at me bro. *seductive wink*
2:53 p.m. - 2021-10-18