I don't really know where to start. Right now the dismay of how my father and his wife are, is coming up.
Yesterday I heard somebody say: "If I don't know my father I don't know a part of myself". That struck me.
I don't understand what my father really is. Just like my mother, he is capable of forgetting me. He desperately wants 'contact' as he calls it (doing things together, calling on the phone) but he is not capable of maintaining it. And the most idiot thing of all is is that he does not even KNOW that he ruins it all the time.
When I was in the mental hospital I was more or less pushed by the staff to start counselling with my father. I was scared to death but I did it, was not strong enough to say 'no'. I almost fainted when it started. One of the first things I said in those conversations (together with a therapist) to my father: I am so afraid you will forget me. The rest I do not really remember.
My father was delighted that we were in touch again and I started to slowly even try, to trust him again. Two weeks before I had to leave the hospital I expressed to him my deep concern of how I should survive after I left. He agreed.
He had planned a six weeks vacation in the time I had my goodbye speech at the institute. He did not mention at all he would have liked to be there "out of the question, vacation was planned a while ago."
It felt good that my father agreed with my concern. But what happened was that he did not ring me once while he was gone. Oh yes, he did ring home: to ask the people who looked after their house how the cats were doing.
Four weeks after I left I knew he was back again. I thought: "well, he will ring me now!" But no phonecall.
A few days later I decided to ring him myself, astonished as I was that he had not contacted me whatsoever. His reaction was: "Hey, how are you doing" like I was an old friend who rang up after years. There was no recognition. I got mad, I felt forgotten but the usual excuses showed up: 'I was busy', 'we just got back' etc. etc. bla bla bla. No concern towards me whatsoever. Well, this was not the first time I felt he had forgotten me and I knew it would not be the last.
One other thing is disgusting: he hates it to do something for his children. If he does something, you get the bill sooner or later (he expects you to show up at his birthday or something). I have never met a father who hates it to do something for his children. I am supposed to be there for him, not the other way around.
He remarried after the divorce with my mother, in 1982. His wife did a great job trying to keep me and my brothers out of her life with him. The stupid woman had no heart for us and is the most narrow-minded person I have ever met.
They are a bunch of losers but they don't know it. They think they are doing great. Now that is a shame. One of these months I will wake them up and tell them what I think of them. They look down on me because I cannot work but things are going to turn and change. Someday I will be strong enough to let them FEEL that they are not people to be proud of.
My father is a poor thing and his wife is a narrow-minded tart. Now that is what I got. Unbelievable.
Yesterday I heard somebody say: "If I don't know my father I don't know a part of myself". That struck me.
I don't understand what my father really is. Just like my mother, he is capable of forgetting me. He desperately wants 'contact' as he calls it (doing things together, calling on the phone) but he is not capable of maintaining it. And the most idiot thing of all is is that he does not even KNOW that he ruins it all the time.
When I was in the mental hospital I was more or less pushed by the staff to start counselling with my father. I was scared to death but I did it, was not strong enough to say 'no'. I almost fainted when it started. One of the first things I said in those conversations (together with a therapist) to my father: I am so afraid you will forget me. The rest I do not really remember.
My father was delighted that we were in touch again and I started to slowly even try, to trust him again. Two weeks before I had to leave the hospital I expressed to him my deep concern of how I should survive after I left. He agreed.
He had planned a six weeks vacation in the time I had my goodbye speech at the institute. He did not mention at all he would have liked to be there "out of the question, vacation was planned a while ago."
It felt good that my father agreed with my concern. But what happened was that he did not ring me once while he was gone. Oh yes, he did ring home: to ask the people who looked after their house how the cats were doing.
Four weeks after I left I knew he was back again. I thought: "well, he will ring me now!" But no phonecall.
A few days later I decided to ring him myself, astonished as I was that he had not contacted me whatsoever. His reaction was: "Hey, how are you doing" like I was an old friend who rang up after years. There was no recognition. I got mad, I felt forgotten but the usual excuses showed up: 'I was busy', 'we just got back' etc. etc. bla bla bla. No concern towards me whatsoever. Well, this was not the first time I felt he had forgotten me and I knew it would not be the last.
One other thing is disgusting: he hates it to do something for his children. If he does something, you get the bill sooner or later (he expects you to show up at his birthday or something). I have never met a father who hates it to do something for his children. I am supposed to be there for him, not the other way around.
He remarried after the divorce with my mother, in 1982. His wife did a great job trying to keep me and my brothers out of her life with him. The stupid woman had no heart for us and is the most narrow-minded person I have ever met.
They are a bunch of losers but they don't know it. They think they are doing great. Now that is a shame. One of these months I will wake them up and tell them what I think of them. They look down on me because I cannot work but things are going to turn and change. Someday I will be strong enough to let them FEEL that they are not people to be proud of.
My father is a poor thing and his wife is a narrow-minded tart. Now that is what I got. Unbelievable.