Father's Day

[sorryson]

I just heard on the radio a reminder about Father's Day. It made me sad because of all the Father's Days I missed with my Dad because of being stupid and controlled by Mama's family and not trying to understand Dad. I was so stupid. I can never get those days back and my Dad will never hear those words from me.

I know some of you were abused by your Father's and I am sorry for you. I was not abused by him, we emotionally abused him and did not see it as abuse. It was. Those abused by their Fathers have every right to hate them. Those caught in family traps like mine please take a look around and reach out to your Dad if you have turned away from him. If he loved you, took you places, watched over you, drove you umpteen miles to activities at all hours of the day, remembered your birthdays and even made mistakes, call him and tell him you want him in your life. I bet even if you were like me and my siblings he will welcome you back into his life. If you were like us, admit you screwed up too. For me, knowing Dad was a CSA survivor explains so much of his behavior. I should have learned about him years ago. I will never have Father's Day with my Dad, he is dead. I will do the next best thing. I will volunteer at the advocacy center that was dear to him and help another child have a pseudo Dad for a day. My son, daughter and wife are going with me this Sunday. I am so blessed to have this family and I only wish Mama and her family would have allowed Mama and Dad to be a family like the one my wife has made.

The marriage was doomed, too many people in their marriage. Mama's family were always right and Dad's family wrong. Then us kids helped to break up the marriage and Mama encouraged us. She denied it until recently that she felt love when we attacked Dad and came to her. She would start piddly arguments in front of us to make us believe Dad was terrible and wrong. She knew we missed her all the times she was away and knew we did not want her to leave again. The guilt she created. Children should not be part of the marriage but part of the family. We were part of the marriage. I think of the things Mama said in front of us about Dad, their sex life and how she was so deprived. She was not but played us so well.

I now understand why Dad was pushed to trying to take his life. I know why he was ruined and had bankruptcy. How could anyone function with vicious people attacking and lying about him. I have a caring wife and I struggle with being motived and feeling valuable from my CSA. I can only imagine when Dad had Mama and us to deal with, how did he ever survive.

Please be kind to one another and if you Dad was good and you turned, call him and tell him Happy Father's Day. I can tell you not be able to say that hurts me and I regret all the Father Days I missed because of what I did.

Paul

 

[WG]

I, in my therapy sessions, finally came to a point where I had to realize he wasn't all good and wasn't all bad. Since i'm older (63), my folks were born in the 1920's (seems like an eternity ago) and were teenagers when World War II broke out. He was graduated from high school in June of 1941, Pearl Harbor happened that December and he was drafted the following January. He served the 4 years (no, soldiers back then didn't get to go home on furlough after serving so many months then go back - they stayed for the duration - this war lasted until August of '45) driving a tank in the Philippines. Four years of war - no fresh milk, no fresh vegetables, heat, exhaustion, constant heat and humidity, no air conditioning, no cold water, boot rot - look it up - constant threat of attack by the Japanese, explosions, grenades, gunfire. Then the long ship ride home and a return to 'normalcy'? How do you act normal after years of that? He tried. He really did. He worked hard for us. At first he was pretty stable. Tall, strong, good looking man. Then something happened. He and Mom began to disagree, then outright fight. They turned on me at times - deprived of food, slapped, hit, burned with cigarettes. Then my neighbor found me attractive and, well, you know the rest. Somewhere in all of this he left. That was when I was 10 in 1963 - told you I was old - and returned when I was in high school.
I later discovered that all along he had been sending money to support me - my mom diverted it and bought herself a car, clothes, went out and rarely used it on me. I wore shirts I found behind a department store that were thrown out. I had 1 pair of shoes or went barefoot.I also later discovered that he had been writing me - the letters didn't make it to me. When he did come to get me he later told me he was embarrassed to see how I was dressed and how I looked overall. Not AT me, just embarrassed at how I seemed so neglected - well my response was 'guess why'.
He fell over dead one evening while getting dressed for bed. Just stopped and dropped. Shocking. That was the week of Christmas 1991. He did get to see my wife (now of 35 years) and my children.He did get to hold them and talk to them - they don't remember him since they were pretty young when he saw them - he lived a few thousand miles away.
Guess all of this is to say, when I remember my Dad this coming weekend, I want to recall the good. As I said, it wasn't all bleakness and hurt. There were good things in there, too.

 

[Can_I_Do_This]

This is the 1st Father's Day I'll be sitting out. Not interested in expressing anything positive towards my abuser at this point in time.

WG, I was talking about WWII with a friend the other day, she, too, was abused by family, and she's about your age. Her Father did combat time, most likely got PTSD, came back to the States, and proceeded to melt-down from the aftermath of the horror of war.

It got me wondering if so, so many of those born to "the greatest generation" were abused due to the stress of the war. Hundreds of thousands of young men were drafted into service, experienced the terror of war, and returned to start families. Basically 20% of American men ages 18-45 were drafted into service.

I think there's a correlation.

I'll wish you, Sorryson and WG, a happy Father's day. You guys understand a million times more than my sorry birth male ever will.

I don't even think of them as my parents anymore, now they're "the two people who fucked and had a kid they never wanted."

 

[WG]

CIDT - Thank-you for the Father's Day wishes. My children have always made it memorable. In good ways, of course. I, too, i have thought about the immense impact those years had on the men and women who served. What they witnessed and had to endure - with no help except one another who may have been impacted in numerous ways themselves. Along with the millions who experienced being the victims of the war (the local citizens I mean). I can't imagine. In my family there were 4 people who narrowly escaped the Holocaust by leaving Vienna in 1939 and eventually winding up in North Africa - Morocco - to wait out the war. They had children, and left everything behind. Getting to Morocco, not speaking Arabic, not having the old neighborhood, the familiar foods, no insurance, no vehicle, no income and a family to support. One story of thousands. More impact. Wow.....

 

[Ceremony]

I've seen the old documentary movies of my major metropolitan area from after the war and into the early 1980's. Gentrification took off like a rocket from the late 1980's. What my city and from what I've learned, every major city did, was to eventually destroy the flop houses and apartments that the nearly all unemployable men with PTSD alcoholism had lived in. Seeing the men in the documentaries, the narration told some stories or veterans who fell through the cracks, some getting some kind of check and living in the flop houses, other's homeless.

Too, the men who had families were dealing with it in the home or drink. I think alcoholism took off after the war for many of those who were in the fighting. All 3 of my uncles are examples. Two married and one didn't. My dad was too young and too old for Vietnam. Born the end of the 1930's. To young for Korea too. He was in the Navy for maybe 2 years? He said he went to Japan somewhere? I don't hear him talk about it. I don't know if he was bullied, he doesn't talk about it. My grandmother told me my grandfather treated my dad like shit? I don't know anything?

I don't really care anymore. My dad isn't doing too well, and he does things that really piss me off. I'll send a Facebook message on Sunday. That's what I've been doing for a few years.

 

[wreckage]

I relate to a little of everything that was said. My mom was the dominant one at home. It was fear of her and not really paying attention to my father (I have never said dad).

We didn't have a car, didn't go anywhere , and were completely dysfunctional. Never talking about anything real, my mother putting my father down and he being a non-personality, with moments of humor and information and woodworking).

I am a father now and it has given me an identity. I finally belong. My daughters make me laugh every day and I try to provide guidance and listen to them.

My wife has helped me immensely with discerning what is right and what my distorted thinking makes me think was right.

Probably the biggest thing has been and continues to be: do parenting differently from the way it was done to me (and I do mean done to me)

Letting go and opening up to possibility is an every day struggle.
But I am strong, like bull (said with a Slavic accent like my father would say it)

 

[oic]

.

 

[sorryson]

I did not mean to evoke pain for anyone. OIC when I saw your opening I was scared. I was glad to read the last sentence. Can I do this, I am sorry for how you were treated by your family. I guess these type of holidays stir up memories for you. Take it easy, please. Ceremony I am sorry you and your father are not close. I know how that feels and after my Dad died I realized I was the rotten son. I know our situations are different. I hope you enjoy the day with your children.

WG I like what you said, remember the good in your Dad. I never really thought about how the war impacted many families. I guess many had PTSD and no one knew. It was hidden in the bottle or some other way. Sad for the people who served and the families that suffered.

Wreckage your wife seems like mine by keeping me in check. She tried for years for me to speak with my Dad but I did not listen. She would sneak the children over to see him and tell him when the children had activities. Dad and his wife I learned would sneak in and sometimes in disguise to see the children but not let me see them. He was a good guy and I missed out on him. I am sad thinking of him and what should have been.

Paul

 

[DanielQ432]

It was another farce put on because it was required. Another fishing rod or whatever, never right.

I don't like to think about my own situation regarding something so "natural" that again was off limits. In the dysfunction of youth obviously never allowed to date, go to a dance or game or prom. My knowledge of sex came from sex ed, bits and pieces I picked up from other boys in school, media ... and a Penthouse I found on the vacant land at the back of the yard. Needless to say, my appetite for sex was pretty normal despite all of that.

Fatherhood out of the question - no way could I handle the responsibility. Plus I wouldn't pass on these genes in case.

So yeah it hurts a lot to see fathers and sons close.

 

[Bluedogone]

This is a subject that strikes an emotional raw nerve for me. My father's only been dead for 41 years so maybe it takes time.

Having been born just at the beginning of the twentieth century, I realize his idea of being a father was filtered through experiences of the great depression and a World War. But we had so many differences that I couldn't see any positives about him until a long time after my teens.

It was a real revelation when my T suggested an exercise where I would list the positives and negatives. On paper he wasn't such a bad guy after all, even though I had blamed him for many years for my being an easy target for predators. No affection or interest in what my life was like. My memories of him are watching wrestling on TV, fishing and cigarettes.

I try to tamp down memories of my own father, and concentrate instead on my relationship with my two sons. This Sunday when they visit or call I'll celebrate the day with them, and silently remind myself that I'm nothing like my father. (I hope)