Chapter 2 of my life: ABUSE!!!!

This is also copied off my journal on This is also why I don’t have WordPress post to my Facebook. Read on.

Bruce is my dad’s name.
This is going to be very long, as it has a lot to do with feelings.

My mom grew up in meeting. Meeting is a somewhat cult-like portion of Christianity. It is one of the many reasons I am not Christian.
Meeting only states what is not allowed. They do nothing to honor the Creator.
Mom was virtually forced to marry my father–who should have never been married at all.
Before they married, he was charming.
My mother had four girls–and one miscarriage, I’m told.
I feel that my dad has always regretted never having a son and has carried that “betrayal” for a long time.
I am the most girly of all four of us, and in my opinion, I’m not REMOTELY close to a girly girl. I do like to wear skirts and make-up, but that’s all the girlyness in me.
Gail has married a very outdoorsy man, and so she is outdoorsy now.
Tina is a metalsmith and her biceps are as hard as rocks.
I did karate.
and Judy just blends in. But she’s not a girl.
No one enjoys skirts but me.
My dad is the man who thinks women belong in the kitchen and should be seen, not heard–same with children.
We were not allowed to have opinions or thoughts of our own. We were not allowed to feel.
He made us feel defeated and in charge of mothering him.
He didn’t touch us.
There were no hugs.
He was cleaver.
He never called us names, but he never said we were pretty either.
The scars we er I have are mental, emotional and psychological.
Now, me, I have my dad’s temper and power.
This is mostly bad.
I also got power from my mom’s side.
Double-dose. Good but also…not good.
I have my dad’s brain patterns.
I have my mother’s empathy.
It’s very easy for me to be dominant, manipulative, sadistic, and over-powering.
It’s incredibly difficult for me to be the opposite.
At times, it’s hard to keep that under control.
I am fully able and willing to abuse under the right conditions.
There are times when I don’t even realize I’m like my dad. I’m sure everyone can relate.
I think I also am a tad narcissistic. I am told that I monopolize conversations and situations or events.
I have a yell equal to my dad’s.
I have a quick tongue equal to my dad’s.
I can make a brick feel bad for being red.

I have a lot of my dad in me.

I have the stamina of my father and the determination of my mother. I am a strong willed person.
I have a good deal of German in me(mom’s side).
Compassion is what keeps me in check.

I am special needs. This alone is the cause for my dad’s …distaste.
He never gave me the extra attention I required. I was no more then dirt to my father. When he looked at me, it was always the same. There was no emotion in his eyes. This bothers me very much.
I am also female. Meaning I must be his slave for life.
He was emotionally unavailable. He will never change.
I caught on to this very early in my life. I picked up the Redwall books and they became a surrogate father. I read them exclusively for 10+ years.
My sisters were abused as well, but not like mom and I. Mom was his WIFE and I was SPECIAL. In his mind, this meant we belonged to him and could not leave.
My sisters became his mother. They still are and do not find a problem with it. This breaks my heart. But there is nothing I can do but here for them. And still they haven’t found me.
Because of my brain damage, I have very strong and correct intuitions.

I graduated high school in 2005. I tried to fail. I was terrified.
School was my safe haven. It was where no one could yell or intimidate me.
I continued school just for that reason.
In February 2005, my dad’s fist came within an inch of my nose.
Amazingly, the very next day, a friend was leaving for karate class. I went along and immediately signed up.
Not only was karate interesting, it would keep my dad away from me.
He never touched me again.
He now knows of my capabilities.
On my 21st birthday, he became my legal guardian.
The full meaning of this was not clear to me. Even so, I was afraid for my life.
It did not faze me for a few years. It was bearable only because I went to school all day, every day.
My grandmother’s health started to decline. I jumped at this opportunity. My mom and I moved to Illinois to care for her.
She passed, but we are still here.
After a lot of paperwork was processed, in 2010 my mother finally became my legal guardian.
We were ecstatic with grief and joy.

My dad is a bad person. He was always like that. His father molested all the male children. My grandpa is the one who stands on the outskirts of gatherings and who you just want to smack.
My mother told me this. When mom and dad were in Canada once, they ran into someone who was once dad’s camp counselor. He(I assume it was a man) told mom that they almost had to shut down the entire camp because of Bruce’s antics.
My Aunt Gail died at age 17 from a skiing incident.
His father was not there in the first years of his life.
His mother never stood up for anything.
In his mind, he is perfect because he is white, male, and has a shitload of money. There is no question. He is god.
My dad has never come to terms with several things. He never will. He’s 60.
He is nothing more then a middle school bully. He’s just a boy.
He is a hard-core Christian because he needs that structure in his life. He’s very clever and extremely smart, but nothing more then a boy.

Love=money. Respect=fear.
He blocks out what he does not want to hear. He will not listen to you. He will not look inside himself. He loves himself and only himself. He absolutely refuses to take responsibility for anything at all. He likes the blame game.
How does he deal with a special needs daughter?? He ignores it. “It” does not exist. I do not exist.
I use the “Love=money” fact to my advantage. Sure, dad, send me to France. But I also need a winter wardrobe. Just give me some money to shop for it. Alright, thanks, bye!
Because I took karate, he fears me. Not because I can hit back, but because to his narcissistic mind, I took a stand.
He will ONLY listen to people who have solid power over him. Which is hard to find. I do not have power over him. But mine is solid. The law has solid power over him. He knows it.
I once used it to my advantage. Nothing happened; the police just told me to enjoy my kitten.
The point is I’m not afraid. and that is how my power overrules him.
The fact that I am brain damaged is purely his fault.
He feels guilty, but will not apologize. It eats at him, but he will die a horrible death before he admits it.
I do not hold a grudge against him for nearly killing me. I hold a grudge because of the way my sisters, my mother, our pets and his special needs child were treated. I hold a grudge because we were defeated before the fight began; before we had thoughts of our own.
I hold a grudge because I am not blind to the paths that my sisters have chosen nor his role in them.
I pity him for not having the intense help, father, mother, or structure he required.
I pity him for letting himself go down this path of life without even being aware of other pathways.
He could be a good man.

There is only one blaring difference between my father and I.
He and I are both challenged.
He does not ask for help.
I do.

The truth will come to my sisters in time. This is the reason why we cannot be together for long periods. This is why we have some extremely heated and emotional arguments.
Of course, I now realize, with horror, that my sisters may never realize the truth and we will never be happy together.
But this is life. We save ourselves and that’s all we really can do.T_T
But this is great! because my sister’s will not carry on this treatment to their children. It ends here.
My sister’s are good people. They didn’t get even the slightest touch of badness. They are good and they will find others who are good.
That’s something worth knowing. Their eyes are not opened, and they may never see clearly. But they’ll be ok.
Psychological effects: I am afraid of men. Especially those with my father’s build. He was very muscular and intimidating. That is the first thought that enters my head. Even though I know the man I am seeing with my eyes wouldn’t dare hit/abuse me, that fear doesn’t go away. I repeat, I am special needs. This means I need physical protection because I cannot take care of myself in that way. I need a man with muscles. I need a strong bodyguard. And yet I am deathly afraid. Alas. That fear will never leave me. It was branded into my psyche.
I have a feeling of not being enough sometimes. I am now able to overrule it within milliseconds, but it still comes.
When I am given a gift of expensivness, I wonder why. This is what I was trained to do.
My sisters may not have these fears or thoughts. They may not even think this deeply about it.
I am not one of them.
It was brought to my attention, 6 years ago, that when we were young kids forced to attend Sunday School, my sisters chose to skip without including me. This has meaning and hurt to a person like me.
There are a bunch of little instances like that, that hurt my feelings.
I am not one of them and I never will be.

I used to say that I am a missing puzzle piece. I still find that to be true. This is not the puzzle I belong to.

When I go back home.
Now, this is interesting.
Since money is the only type of love to him, I play on that thread of his black heart, and get him to buy me things.
I virtually force him. Buying us off is his thing. Money is all that love is to him, and he is wealthy. I use this to my advantage. I see it as fair because he has never loved me, nor will he. I take his money when it’s given. I see this as payback. Although, he’s not aware of it. I steal from him ONLY. I once got $75 in change from around the house.
I search through his house on every visit. When it’s in cash, it’s over $40.

I will stay in his house ONLY as a last resort.

I will go out with him. He usually takes me shopping, or to eat, or to a movie. –yes, buy me shit father!–I WILL NOT be with him alone. The places we go have people and cameras.
If it’s to be just the two of us, I make sure Gail comes along or Chris. Chris is my stepmom and lives in South Carolina. They drive 6 hours to see each other on weekends. I understand how this works. It’s a good set up for him.
Tina and Judy will stand up for him, not me. I know this because we’ve had things of this nature happen before.
He distances himself from mom, so if she comes along, it’s a bonus.
He’s rather absent minded. I think this is probably a characteristic of a narcissist. This is something I also take advantage of.
No one but mom catches onto any of this. I don’t understand why, because it is so fucking obvious, but they’re thick in this way. And I approve of this.
This is the best way to make my sister’s not upset.
I do not put anything on Facebook about my dad. It’s just better that way.

Abusive people have to be smart as fuck. They’re not stupid.

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