Originally Posted by Apes of Wrath
This past weekend I had planned out to spend time with dear old dad (the real one, "real" as in I emerged from his testicles once in a blast of ecstacy, and literally nothing more) and the bastard flaked on me. He likes to drive sports cars like a teenager, it's called auto-crossing, and for the last two months or so we had planned to hang out at an event he goes to once a month at a college not far from me. This is super convenient because I don't have a car or much money so the 4 hour trip north to see him is kind of a downer. His event was literally 15 minutes away from me.
Yet the calls and voicemails went unanswered, I messaged him on facebook and got no response. Meanwhile, as always, my whore of a half sister has posts here and there that bespeak of a relationship with the man I have never enjoyed. It's very frustrating and heart wrenching, and what is this shit at 31?
Once awkwardness has been introduced into a relationship for any reason, it's very very hard to ever again be relaxed or "at ease" alone with that person.
Catholics introduce awkwardness into everything with their filthy circumspect / consideration (to hide their shame, or even more horrifying, to hide their shame felt for your sake; they won't want to clarify something because they know it will embarrass you - it would embarrass them, so they will simply think poorly of you rather than clarify their misunderstanding / incorrect assumption), their golden silence (when they need to be speaking), their compassion (telling you how to feel or not feel, "don't feel bad"), their catastrophically-abysmal antisocial behaviour which utterly obliterates any chance of fun (this is also called "politeness" and "etiquette" and "propriety" and "cordiality" and "small talk" and "lying") and so on.
Once awkwardness has been introduced to a relationship or a social setting, it's very often Game Over. I used to have a GOD-given 'gift' which allowed me to make uncomfortable people comfortable but I don't do that fucking shit anymore, because I don't need to. It generally involves pandering to their insanity, making them relaxed by making a fool out of yourSelf, being silly, being Self-deprecating, basically forcing them to imagine they were 'superior' so they can FEEL at ease. I just wanted to have fun, obviously; so I did this kind of shit endlessly to get people to get over themselves (get over their demented awkward fears). It all comes down to fear, obviously.
Why the fuck does it continue?
Because he feels awkward around you. The reasons could literally be anything and they're not important. All that's important is he is uncomfortable.
And why the hell does it bother me so SO damned much?
Because you're missing your sense of Self. If you had your sense of Self, you wouldn't give a fuck about his dumb awkwardness or his hangups or why he can't be comfortable around his own son.
I should preface with back story slightly- father/mum married when mum was 19, had me at 21, divorce city 2-3 years later.
Step father Ah hell what could I tell you I haven't already about him and how I grew up. I suppose I should add the few occassions I saw my biological father. I can sum them up like this:
8am saturday I am picked up, one weekend per month, till I was about 12 or so.
We are driving someplace, he isn't speaking to me. I look up at him to my left, he ostensibly looks away. Every time.
He's clearly socially retarded and not a conversationalist. Your sister (I thought you didn't have a sister?) has a way of making him feel at ease, for whatever reason. Girls very often have this with their fathers and it might be something as simple as she allows him to FEEL functional, in the sense that he's her protective Daddy. This allows him to have a relationship with her whereas with you, he feels awkward because you don't need his protection so he doesn't understand what possible USE or FUNCTION he can perform. In his mind, there is no point in his having a relationship with you; what do you NEED him for, etc.
If it's not ridiculously obvious, he has no sense of Self either.
We arrive at his place, video games (upstairs, where no one else is) beckon, and suddenly it's 730pm sunday and we have a quiet dinner and I am teleported home. I get a vague "hug" of some kind and he seems.....angry, or annoyed....and he's off.
People don't like to feel uncomfortable. They will respond with passive aggression and resistance to being made to do something they don't want to do (because it hurts them or makes them feel stupid); he likely knows its all his 'fault' but he doesn't know what to do about it.
So fast forward and my father and I see each other 3 times between ages 12 and 31. This last time was really brutal- I hadn't been sleeping and was mildly insane and my father introduced me to his sister and a bunch of family members I felt strangely connected to. I genuinely miss them right now, in fact. I hang with dad, we make plans to hang out in two months end of may, and I head home, trip seemed successful. I might have a father afterall.
In red is why the trip seemed successful; i.e. not one-on-one.
A week later he calls me asking for my SSN#, gibber gabber regarding being in his will or something ensues, I talk about my aspirations for the navy, he says good luck, we agree to talk again and move forward.
He's desperately looking for that function he can perform.
And he's literally ignored me since.
Without a function, he doesn't know what else to do / how to proceed / what to say.
He's lost at sea.
Why does he hate me so much that I literally hate myself John?
He doesn't hate you. But he will appear to be angry when forced to do something he isn't comfortable with. He will lash out in ways that are compulsive or he will simmer in frustration at his incapacity to connect and no one likes to live in pain, so this will manifest in passive resistance to enduring the uncomfortable awkwardness he FEELS around you.
You hating yourSelf is a result of your imagined NEED to be loved by a man who failed you. It was no less his 'fault' than your mother's.
Toddlers shouldn't be having children for this reason. They don't know how to function beyond what Society has laid out for them, as a demented template. Your mother took his template away from him. He's been lost ever since.
How can a man HATE his only son?
You're imagining the hatred. He just hates social awkwardness. Your presence brings him pain, which he may or may not blame you for. It's not really relevant because you're only imposing on him because Society made you think you NEED a relationship with the Toddler who was your biological parent. You don't.
Doesn't he actually see himself in me?
He doesn't know you from a bar of soap. He's never had a relationship with you. He doesn't have the emotional connection you feel towards him. You might even remind him of the woman who destroyed him. There are millions of reasons why he could be in pain around you, but they are almost -all- Catholic.
Probably when you were too young to remember. Or it's entirely possible he only went along with your mother's decision to have you because he wanted her to be happy.
Does or did he EVER actually love me?
No. Love is insanity and love is NEED. If he loved you, he'd be contacting you all the time desperate to force your affection. He has learned to stay alive by himself (not to be confused with "learning to live with himSelf").
Why the hell does this wreck my life still at 31 friggin years old?????
Because of 1500 years of Catholic emotional corruption, smearing their awkward filthy shame all over the world; making people uncertain, uncomfortable, unsure and -inevitably- resistant to social bonding.
What's up with the will and all that- my deeply rooted fear is that he's "made his peace with me" after abandoning me and literally he's said "ok kid, I've provided for you when I die, take care" and that I am not ok with. Or should I be?
You shouldn't FEEL emotion in regards to him, at all. It's not your 'fault' that he's a Selfless Toddler who doesn't know how to connect with other human beings who value him for himSelf; he simply wouldn't understand what role he's supposed to play in your life and that's what it all comes down to, really. Catholics make everyone lie all the time (initially to be 'sweet') and the end result is everyone is role-playing.
Without a role to play, he's lost. What can you do? More importantly, why would you give a fuck. You have your own life to lead.
This is really fucking me up right now, because on top of all the shit my life has been and more recently become, one of the best memories I have this year was spending time with the guy, just for two damn days. And he doesn't give a flying fuck? Or am I insane?
He would either give a fuck but be completely oblivious about how to proceed or he wouldn't give a fuck anymore because no one could function in that state indefinitely. He would have been forced to think "fuck it" rather than live in perpetual mild or exacerbated agony.
You're also insane because 7 billion people have this kind of emotional baggage; even if it's as limited to not being able to immediately connect with strangers.
I also suspect he has and has had a closer relationship with my half sister because she is a bit more intelligent and always managed to have men takiing care of her. IE I suspect he senses I might need emotional/financial help and is saying "no can do, I have a life to life worry free here" and that, of course, is also wrecking me emotionally.
I was humming and hawing about whether to mention this, but I didn't have enough information about your true motives, his financial position, his emotional capacity to take on a dependant child, etc. It's entirely possible he's been in sheer Survival Mode his entire life; and the survival instinct is so strong, most people shut down when they cannot cope.
People do what they need to do to survive and if he's already struggling, it makes no sense for him to throw you up on his back as if he were 'Atlas'. If he knows or if he fears doing that will make him shrug, he won't dare.
Cue Catholic shame.
They want everyone "surviving" in shame. They do not want anyone living. Without pain, what function could they serve? Their very existence would be redundant. Which is why everyone lives in their shame. Feeling bad about things they don't really understand. They just know they're not good enough, somehow.
This is from "Saving Face" (which has been written, just not written for vassal readability yet). I'm talking about my childhood, briefly; and how I only survived floating on a lie (dignity, on account of the terrible mistake that separated me from my -real- parents and placed me in the 'care' of batshit Crazy). I saw some similarities in Mai's Perfectionist FURY at her slutty little friend (who threw her leg over me, assuming that every guy wanted to fuck her). I didn't think much of her imposition because I didn't care for her at all; she was only in my apartment against my preference, and reservations. Not to mention, her sleaze was unsolicited. She tried to straddle me so a second later she was on the ground in a crumbled heap - I didn't touch her so much as the opposite; I shot to my feet and she went down like a rag-doll. Mai's FURY burned across the room, and it was terrifying. It reminded me of me. Survivors do not tolerate fuckups which threaten their survival and I never saw that friend of hers again:
My survival hung on my deepest and darkest Fear. What would my real mother say when she found me? Would she even want me? Would she be able to recognise me? Would she be repulsed by who I’d become? I was driven by the fierce requirement to be - better - than everything and everyone; but at night I cried, certain that I was not.
Not good enough.
I was never good enough. I'd have to be better tomorrow. No matter how strong I’d become, I'd have to be stronger. No matter how hard I'd worked, I'd have to work harder. No matter how tired or beaten or hopeless I'd felt, I'd have to fight on. I had no choice. I was driven by the miserable terror of having come so far only to fail and what if...
What if my mother found me then, once I had failed? What if the state rescued us then, just after I had failed? The horror at having come so far, only to fail...
And so I would punch my pillow - or scream in rage & fury directly into it - before frantically or even violently whipping the wretched tears away. Drying my eyes and gritting my teeth, I’d spit in disgust and contempt. Too weak. Too pathetic.
Not good enough.
I was never good enough to be happy.
It's how I became a winner and if you THINK about it, you'd understand the Dark Truth about Winning.
You'll see a lot of children like me later this year, gathered together by creeps in London to compete. It's for your 'entertainment', they'll suggest. You should think about that before you're entertained.
Winners are powered by Pain.
Things are pretty bad across my emotional landscape right now. Please do help, if you can.
It's all going to be on you. You cannot rely on anyone because this is a world where everyone is just doing their best to survive. It makes no sense to place your father or anyone in a position where they'll feel shitty for doing what they need to get by.
From the concluding page of "Saving Face":
Four years after I had rescued the pretty little urchin from her horrifying ‘sisters’, inconsolable tears of rage streamed down my face as I braced against the impact of yet another brutal blow dealt by religion’s invention of Hate. I felt no need to whip the wretched tears away. I was sick to death of putting on a brave face.
I was a whore now, and there was nothing to be done but keep the watch Mai had paid in advance for. She was too exhausted to speak but it was I who wasn't listening to her communicate. I'd been hopelessly distracted by another pretty face. So she did what she had to do. So I did what I had to do. That night, everyone was doing what they had to do.
We get by as best we know how. We try our best to keep it together. We hope for the best, all-but-guaranteeing the worst; and inevitably we're forced to endure whatever comes, alone. I knew why her friends had abandoned her. I wanted to blame them but I couldn’t force myself to be angry at them; I understood all-too-well why they'd disappeared. On the darkest nights of your life - the ones you absolutely cannot bear to face alone - chances are you’ll have to pay someone to watch you sleep or you will be on your own.
I was a whore now, but the truth is that I always have been. In reality, surviving isn’t as black and white as it should be.
Linear Mode
