So what do I want to talk about today. Family. You can't pick 'em and very often you don't want them. I am very envious of those families who are very close and are able to react and interact in a normal adult and productive way most of the time. I am aware that there is no Utopia in any relationships, I'm not that naïve!
In my family, my mum tried her best to do normal things with me growing up. Problem was she'd been brought up in a very strict household so she wasn't really sure how to go about this, hence my very strict upbringing where if I was accused of doing something by another kid, my parents never believed me and always punished me severely (even though most of the time I'd never done anything because I was to scared to!)
Then there was my arsehole of a father. Oh great and wonderful dad! Yes drinking a whole bottle of rum and then getting violent is okay. Yes not allowing your child to touch you because they were someway unclean is okay. Yes buying yourself a Rolex watch, getting the family into debt so your wife has to take on 3 or 4 cleaning jobs to make ends meet whilst you lord it over us is okay. Yes rushing to the bathroom to scrub the dirt off your Rolex watch when your child had accidentally brushed against it is okay! Well obviously NOT!!! I could extend this list into infinity but there is enough to be going on with right there.
To this day he doesn't understand why drinking to the point of oblivion each and every day and pissing and shitting himself is not normal. He doesn't seem to understand why I have completely cut him out of my life. Why my children will never call him granddad.
Abuse of children comes in many forms and I had my fill of it when I was a child. The memory of my mum showing the marks on my back and bottom to my father and asking him why he did it. My father looming over me and telling me that I was dirty and disgusting. My children will never experience this, my husband doesn't drink, doesn't hit the children, is interested in them, he finds them entertaining and funny and lovable! I was never lovable according to my father. I'm still not. So I rant to finally purge my soul of all of the hate and loathing I have.
I heard through the grapevine that my father thinks he may have cancer on his tongue as there is a growth there. All I can say is that there must be such a thing as poetic justice. The years of abuse my mother suffered where she had to go out cleaning dozens of other people's houses inhaling the fumes of toxic cleaning chemicals, until she contracted ovarian cancer at the age of 67 and died in agony 10 months later. I obviously can never prove that this is how she contracted the illness, but she never smoked, never drank, was never overweight other than a few pounds which she would then lose, but I have always felt that dealing with that many cleaning chemicals each and every day of your life for 40 years can not be a good thing. So now he's wondering if he's going to die a painful death. What goes around, comes around. I would never wish that kind of death on my worst enemy, I saw my mum die and it was horrific and tragic. But do I care if he has cancer? Do I fuck!
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