To: K-list
Recieved: 2003/01/26 00:31
Subject: Re: [k-list] What is pain for?
From: felix
On 2003/01/26 00:31, felix posted thus to the K-list:
On Sat, 25 Jan 2003 18:06:44 EST
Druout AT_NOSPAM aol.com wrote:
> Dear Felix,
>
> That must have been hellish! Interesting that you
> were/are aware enough to be able to see your father's
> emotional pain as the cause of his violence. Or was it
> mental pain by any chance? Interesting distinction you
> make. As you probably know, there are a number of people
> on the list who were badly abused as children.
Hi Hillary,
Yeah, I thought I was special. LOL!!
Actually, within my natal family... I was. I had two older
sisters and two younger brothers and while they did get
whippings as punishment, they never got beatings like I did.
The girls were, after all, girls. And the beatings my brothers saw me get probably changed their lives. They're all fine, upstanding citizens now.
It would be difficult to say that I understand it. I saw
things from my perspective, and not even then until much
later in retrospect. I suspect this situation dictated how I
lived my life. I was always dealing with it and attempting
to find middle ground.
The major impact of this upbringing happened later when I
got married and had kids of my own. I've been married twice
and had one girl child from the first marriage and two more
girls from the second marriage. There was an incident in
both situations that caused me to leave the relationships.
In the first marriage, when the girl was three months old,
she woke up several times and my wife got up to tend to her.
The third time she asked me to see what I could do because
she was extremely tired. I got up and calmed the baby three
times, but the fourth time I lost it and picked the child up
and slammed her back into her bed screaming "Shut up!" She
wasn't hurt, but I left three days later.
I gnew better than to marry again, but the woman got
pregnant and I felt obligated to marry her because I gnew
she would get an abortion if I didn't. It wouldn't have been
the first time. We did good for about 7-8 years, and had
another child. We went through the LaMaze thing and I saw
both of them born. I loved all of them very much.
One day the oldest girl did something that made me mad, and
suddenly I grabbed her by the arm and swatted her on the
butt. It was much harder than it needed to be, and a month
later I destroyed that marriage. I couldn't stand the
thought of my own children having to go through what I did,
and I gnew that if I stayed it probably would have. These
things get passed down the line.
I've been alone since then and often wonder if fate wasn't
at play in this charade. I only thought I was a recluse in
my younger years. My natal family, while kind to me and
tolerant because they knew what happened, think that
everything that happened was my fault, and it was. My
ex-wives and children think it was my fault and have nothing
to do with me, and they're right to do so.
I can't really blame my father. He got it from his father
and passed it on down to me as if it was my birthright. At
least he confined the really rough stuff to me.
He did a lot of good for a lot of people. When he was buried
his former students, most of them prominent political
figures, were his pall-bearers and bought him a wreath with
a banner that said, "Teacher of Teachers". These people also
thought I was an ungrateful and wretched son, and never gnew
what happened behind closed doors.
I can't say I am free of blaming. I guess I still harbor
resentment for my mother. She didn't try to stop him, and in
fact was pretty relieved it was me instead of her. She was
the one, along with my older sisters, who would be waiting
at the door when he came home from work to sic him on me,
and then stood around to watch with sparkling, smirking eyes
as he laid it on me. They liked it. I guess it was quite a
show.
All his life my father tried to tell me about her. I
wouldn't listen to him because she was my mother.
When he was dying I was the only one of his children who
would go help her with him, and after he died I stayed with
her for over two years because the doctors would not let her
live alone.
It was during this time that I saw things in a different
light. I saw what drove him insane with anger. There were
times in her illness that she thought I was my father, her
husband, and she would have conversations with me as if I were him about the little bastard she thought I was that had
caused all the trouble. I came to realize it wasn't really
my father so much that did the real damage. Like with my
father, maybe when she dies, I will forgive her too.
I guess I was supposed to gnow these things, but it really
hurt me worse than all the beatings, but not as much as
having to let my own children go to prevent the same thing
from happening to them. They're okay. Resentful and angry
because I wasn't there for them, but pretty good people...
or so I've heard from others. ;-)
felix
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