- My mum has left my dad, seemingly for good. This is wonderful news, although I obviously have lots of mixed feelings about it all and I haven't really had time to stop and express or understand exactly how I feel. Plenty to blog about here.
- Another weekend away with internet weirdos. Much like last year's bash hosted by the same person and attended by many of the same weirdos, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I spent time with lovely folk, stayed sober, got a great walk in and came away feeling wonderful. There are some up-and-down moments, some negatives which I want to explore.
- My sobriety. Having spent this weekend mostly sober, and having had the opportunity to get off my face on grade-A skunk but not having done so, I feel I've learned some lessons about triggers, how and why I occasionally splurge out and the person I am when I'm not drinking. Some of this weekend's anxiety was noticeable simply because I wasn't drinking - normally, it seems, I'd be hiding behind the false confidence alcohol can provide. I'll be interested to explore that a little more, as I'd like to think I had enough about me to stand on my own two feet without the need for comforting alcohol.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
A few things to write about
in the near future. It's been an interesting week or two, I'm shattered and up and down on bad food and caffeine, but I'm doing ok. The subject matter:
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Someone once mentioned dream analysis
in respect of its use as a therapy tool. Some recent reading of Adler ties in quite well with this and a dream I had last night that I've just discussed with Tess and rushed here to put into pixels.
I was woken this morning by my alarm after the first fitful night's sleep in two or three weeks. The lower half of my body was under then covers and soaking with sweat. I was in the middle of a dream where my immediate family were in a churchyard. My dad had built some kind of ancient catapult thing out of dodgy-looking rusty steel beams. Oddly, this is the second time I've dreamed that he's had this contraption - I can't be sure but it definitely feels like I've dreamed about it very recently and in the same context of it being inherently unsafe.
Sophie was over near him, as a six or seven year old, while he was adding tension to the launching mechanism. I was some distance away from a short wall that separated my brothers and I from dad, Sophie and the catapult, and my mum was this side of the wall. I was shouting to my mum that I didn't want Sophie near the catapult as I thought it was unsafe and I didn't want her to get hurt, and dad was continuing to wind the mechanism up. Mum indicated she'd be fine and I got frustrated, starting to move towards the wall to rescue Sophie. I shouted more and started stabbing my finger at the air, I was that frustrated. It was at this point my alarm went off and the dream has stayed quite fresh in my mind since then.
I'll happily admit I don't really believe in dream analysis in the traditional sense, when someone listens to your dream and tells you what they think it means from their lofty viewpoint on a pedestal. Dream analysis, particularly in the form of books, may offer comfort to some in the same way that astrology offers a reassurance of order and understanding in the chaos of our lives.
Adler suggests we assign meanings to everything we experience through a reasonably narrow "meaning of life" we develop during our first five years. Our experiences during these early years help us form an opinion of how the world works and our place in it, and it drives the way we deal with most things on a daily basis. I'm unsure as to the form of my "meaning of life" but I know I'm working my way towards finding out. The significance of the above is that I recognised part of the process of assigning meaning while explaining this dream to Tess.
The dream could have passed me by as just another odd experience but, because of my current frame of mind, I've assigned a meaning to it. The clunky machine my dad is winding up represents his potential bad mood. Sophie represents me as a young boy. I was trying to protect her from my dad's reckless explosions, and my mum's lack of action represents my feelings on her failing to protect us as kids.
It jumps out that my frustration with my parents, with my father for being consistently misanthropic and my mother for constantly putting up with it despite being unhappy, stems from all the crap I experienced during my formative years. In fact, almost my entire world view is built on those five years and how my parents interacted with the world and the people around them.
I'm looking forward to CBT to understand how that's manifested itself in my behaviour. I'm looking forward even more to learning more Adlerian methods to understand myself and my world view as a whole.
I've come back to this post later in the day to answer a question that's sat on my mind since I realised the dream hadn't ended when I was woken: How would I have ended the dream if I had control? I would like to have relieved my frustration by calling out to Sophie - something I don't appear to have done in the dream. If that had failed I'd have scaled the wall and gone to get her myself, regardless of the danger posed by the increasing tension in the machine. I'd have picked her up, held her close and taken her behind the wall, admonishing my mother as I put some distance between us and my dad.
Here I am attaching meaning again, but I'm finding this exercise quite useful: In realising that, in the dream, I resented my mother for not protecting my daughter from the danger my dad had put her in, I'm recognising the resentment I feel for her now. She spent my youth displaying a lack of courage to do the same for me. She let me and my brothers experience our father's anger and its effects on her and the family, she never stuck to her guns and stayed away from him, even when they finally split up a few years ago.
I didn't realise I'd put it so far to the back of my mind until I talked it through with Tess this morning, but mum called me in a state on Sunday. She sounded stressed.
I asked how she was. "Not great, I've walked out again."
She continued, "This has been going on for a few weeks,"
"This has been going on thirty-five years," I responded.
"I've got a place at a refuge if I need one."
"Go there then," I said.
She said "[A mutual friend] is coming out to get me, she's often said I can stay with her in an emergency."
"OK, as long as you're safe."
"Are you at home?" she asked.
"No, I'm in Aylesbury having a day out with Mark and Leo."
"Oh, I'll leave you to it, don't let it ruin your day."
"Thank you, call me if you get stuck."
And I didn't let it ruin my day. I spoke to Mark about it briefly and when Tess mentioned it this morning that was the first I'd thought about it since Sunday night when I got back from seeing Villagers in Oxford. Clever Tess, noticing the link between my dream and what I'd told her then, even though I didn't realise it myself until a few minutes ago.
It's quite the coincidence that this happened less than a week after writing a blog post about mum leaving dad during my youth. It's clear to me now that the phone call on Sunday triggered this dream last night, and I'm pleased it's given me the opportunity to focus on things in this way, as it's helped me understand a few things. Primarily, I think, is the admission that I resent my mother for keeping all of us in contact with this angry person - I've spent much of my life thinking, maybe hoping, that mum was blameless in all of this, but it takes two people to maintain an unhealthy relationship, I guess. I know her outward motivations have always been for us, for the kids, for the stability, the money, the roof over our heads, and my brain is going "I'd have given all that up for a normal childhood!"
The truth is that no childhood is "normal" - most people suffer varying degrees of hardship, displacement, instability or loss during their childhood and I don't like to single myself out or compare my trials to those worse off than me. But screw it - there is an old saying that I think applies here and I adapted it for my own use many years ago. In using it, I refer to the importance I place in recognising, understanding and processing my emotions, and that if I want to consider myself hard-done-by, I bloody well will:
Look after number one, so you can best look after others
I was woken this morning by my alarm after the first fitful night's sleep in two or three weeks. The lower half of my body was under then covers and soaking with sweat. I was in the middle of a dream where my immediate family were in a churchyard. My dad had built some kind of ancient catapult thing out of dodgy-looking rusty steel beams. Oddly, this is the second time I've dreamed that he's had this contraption - I can't be sure but it definitely feels like I've dreamed about it very recently and in the same context of it being inherently unsafe.
Sophie was over near him, as a six or seven year old, while he was adding tension to the launching mechanism. I was some distance away from a short wall that separated my brothers and I from dad, Sophie and the catapult, and my mum was this side of the wall. I was shouting to my mum that I didn't want Sophie near the catapult as I thought it was unsafe and I didn't want her to get hurt, and dad was continuing to wind the mechanism up. Mum indicated she'd be fine and I got frustrated, starting to move towards the wall to rescue Sophie. I shouted more and started stabbing my finger at the air, I was that frustrated. It was at this point my alarm went off and the dream has stayed quite fresh in my mind since then.
I'll happily admit I don't really believe in dream analysis in the traditional sense, when someone listens to your dream and tells you what they think it means from their lofty viewpoint on a pedestal. Dream analysis, particularly in the form of books, may offer comfort to some in the same way that astrology offers a reassurance of order and understanding in the chaos of our lives.
Adler suggests we assign meanings to everything we experience through a reasonably narrow "meaning of life" we develop during our first five years. Our experiences during these early years help us form an opinion of how the world works and our place in it, and it drives the way we deal with most things on a daily basis. I'm unsure as to the form of my "meaning of life" but I know I'm working my way towards finding out. The significance of the above is that I recognised part of the process of assigning meaning while explaining this dream to Tess.
The dream could have passed me by as just another odd experience but, because of my current frame of mind, I've assigned a meaning to it. The clunky machine my dad is winding up represents his potential bad mood. Sophie represents me as a young boy. I was trying to protect her from my dad's reckless explosions, and my mum's lack of action represents my feelings on her failing to protect us as kids.
It jumps out that my frustration with my parents, with my father for being consistently misanthropic and my mother for constantly putting up with it despite being unhappy, stems from all the crap I experienced during my formative years. In fact, almost my entire world view is built on those five years and how my parents interacted with the world and the people around them.
I'm looking forward to CBT to understand how that's manifested itself in my behaviour. I'm looking forward even more to learning more Adlerian methods to understand myself and my world view as a whole.
I've come back to this post later in the day to answer a question that's sat on my mind since I realised the dream hadn't ended when I was woken: How would I have ended the dream if I had control? I would like to have relieved my frustration by calling out to Sophie - something I don't appear to have done in the dream. If that had failed I'd have scaled the wall and gone to get her myself, regardless of the danger posed by the increasing tension in the machine. I'd have picked her up, held her close and taken her behind the wall, admonishing my mother as I put some distance between us and my dad.
Here I am attaching meaning again, but I'm finding this exercise quite useful: In realising that, in the dream, I resented my mother for not protecting my daughter from the danger my dad had put her in, I'm recognising the resentment I feel for her now. She spent my youth displaying a lack of courage to do the same for me. She let me and my brothers experience our father's anger and its effects on her and the family, she never stuck to her guns and stayed away from him, even when they finally split up a few years ago.
I didn't realise I'd put it so far to the back of my mind until I talked it through with Tess this morning, but mum called me in a state on Sunday. She sounded stressed.
I asked how she was. "Not great, I've walked out again."
She continued, "This has been going on for a few weeks,"
"This has been going on thirty-five years," I responded.
"I've got a place at a refuge if I need one."
"Go there then," I said.
She said "[A mutual friend] is coming out to get me, she's often said I can stay with her in an emergency."
"OK, as long as you're safe."
"Are you at home?" she asked.
"No, I'm in Aylesbury having a day out with Mark and Leo."
"Oh, I'll leave you to it, don't let it ruin your day."
"Thank you, call me if you get stuck."
And I didn't let it ruin my day. I spoke to Mark about it briefly and when Tess mentioned it this morning that was the first I'd thought about it since Sunday night when I got back from seeing Villagers in Oxford. Clever Tess, noticing the link between my dream and what I'd told her then, even though I didn't realise it myself until a few minutes ago.
It's quite the coincidence that this happened less than a week after writing a blog post about mum leaving dad during my youth. It's clear to me now that the phone call on Sunday triggered this dream last night, and I'm pleased it's given me the opportunity to focus on things in this way, as it's helped me understand a few things. Primarily, I think, is the admission that I resent my mother for keeping all of us in contact with this angry person - I've spent much of my life thinking, maybe hoping, that mum was blameless in all of this, but it takes two people to maintain an unhealthy relationship, I guess. I know her outward motivations have always been for us, for the kids, for the stability, the money, the roof over our heads, and my brain is going "I'd have given all that up for a normal childhood!"
The truth is that no childhood is "normal" - most people suffer varying degrees of hardship, displacement, instability or loss during their childhood and I don't like to single myself out or compare my trials to those worse off than me. But screw it - there is an old saying that I think applies here and I adapted it for my own use many years ago. In using it, I refer to the importance I place in recognising, understanding and processing my emotions, and that if I want to consider myself hard-done-by, I bloody well will:
Look after number one, so you can best look after others
Friday, May 20, 2011
A few thoughts have occurred recently
about my decision to train as a counsellor, and some frustration at why I didn't follow that path years ago. I'm playing Mah Jong Challenge at the moment and at the end of each level there's a Chinese proverb. The one that caused me to come here and post was:
The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago
The second best time is today
I love that so much, and it's relevant to me and applies to my thinking right now: I regret not knowing what path to take when I left school, I'm not proud of falling into computing when I left school because I knew I didn't really want to work in an office doing programming or data entry or even design, I just wanted to innovate and create and explore. Those regrets fade into obscurity when I think that I have time now to plant seeds which will grow into great things. Knowing that I may well have found my purpose in life, I may have broken down the mental barriers to pushing myself to my full potential, to study and explore myself and psychological theory. To push myself to qualify as a counsellor is my ultimate goal, and I'm now more excited than scared to have made such a big decision. I can do this. I will enjoy doing it, and I'll enjoy the final outcome.
Training to be a counsellor is an opportunity to not only help others in a way I feel comfortable and able to do, but a chance to finally work towards understanding myself. A large part of the training and study is reflection and self-study. Understanding your own limitations, boundaries and idiosyncrasies is part of the path to empathising with those of others. What better way to continue my personal mental development than spend time developing my self-understanding, while gaining tools to help others understand themselves and a qualification which will ultimately allow me to knowledgeably and dependably lead Walking for Wellbeing forward?
Wow oh wow oh wow. Exciting times!
The second best time is today
I love that so much, and it's relevant to me and applies to my thinking right now: I regret not knowing what path to take when I left school, I'm not proud of falling into computing when I left school because I knew I didn't really want to work in an office doing programming or data entry or even design, I just wanted to innovate and create and explore. Those regrets fade into obscurity when I think that I have time now to plant seeds which will grow into great things. Knowing that I may well have found my purpose in life, I may have broken down the mental barriers to pushing myself to my full potential, to study and explore myself and psychological theory. To push myself to qualify as a counsellor is my ultimate goal, and I'm now more excited than scared to have made such a big decision. I can do this. I will enjoy doing it, and I'll enjoy the final outcome.
Training to be a counsellor is an opportunity to not only help others in a way I feel comfortable and able to do, but a chance to finally work towards understanding myself. A large part of the training and study is reflection and self-study. Understanding your own limitations, boundaries and idiosyncrasies is part of the path to empathising with those of others. What better way to continue my personal mental development than spend time developing my self-understanding, while gaining tools to help others understand themselves and a qualification which will ultimately allow me to knowledgeably and dependably lead Walking for Wellbeing forward?
Wow oh wow oh wow. Exciting times!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Big change a-coming I reckon
in that, with an increase in clarity and motivation from the Citalopram and various other things, I've made some rather important life decisions which I hope can drive me from now on. Along with a wonderful, fulfilling and promising relationship with Tess, which approaches half a year this next couple of weeks and I can see going on indefinitely, there are three things I'd like to try and achieve over the next five years:
- Train and get regular work as a Teaching Assistant in a primary school
Starting by getting experience at after-school clubs, I'd like to follow this path. Recent interaction with youngsters has confirmed how much I get out of working with youngsters and, to modestly quote Tracey, how good I am at it. I had lofty aspirations of being a primary school teacher a few years ago but they were certainly beyond my means. TA work would mean getting many of the benefits and experiences of working with children without the headache of a few years study and the bureaucracy and life take-over that comes with becoming a teacher. Of course, the pay scale would be vastly different but I'm all about the work-life balance, which is probably a poncey way of saying I'm lazy, but I also know my limitations. I feel that TA work is a happy medium between doing nothing and going the whole massive insurmountable hog and doing teacher training now. - Register the charity, apply for grants and whatever funding possible
with a view to not only making it pay its own way but to build it to eventually create an income for me. I've always seen it as a potential full-time project and I'm sure with some investment, a little help and some hard work it could be made as such, and if it were possible, it would be perhaps the best job in the world. This ties in with the next thing, below. - I want to train and qualify as a counsellor
This is something I've always shied away from because I've not considered myself capable or had confidence in my abilities. I feel every day it's becoming more clear that I'm definitely capable of doing anything I really put my mind to, and tied-in with getting the charity moving properly is a requirement to solidify my skills and place me firmly into the role of the manager of a mental health charity and counsellor. I can't remember the exact words Tracey used as we were discussing this but she inferred I had enough natural talent to hit the ground running if I were to join her course. To have Tracey display that confidence in my ability is a real boost as I have so much respect for her opinion. I'm thinking about joining the Adlerian counselling course she's been doing for the past few years, I've ordered a book by Adler called What Life Could Mean to You and a copy of Adler for Beginners, of which I read half of Tracey's copy and really enjoyed. I'm reading Cognitive Behavioural Therapy for Dummies at the moment, falling back on the "for Dummies" books as a great source of beginner's information, and finding it fascinating. I know I could study this, I know I could put the time and energy into it to refine my skills and get that qualification. Man, that would be so utterly brilliant. I'd actually be doing something with my life instead of plodding along day-to-day, bemoaning my current situation and not doing anything about it.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Rebound
but hopefully only temporarily. I appear to have had a couple of off days. I've not really felt like myself this past three or four days and I can't put my finger on why. I don't even know if I need to find some cause or reason or thing to blame - maybe it's just the drugs balancing out. Interesting that my first reaction is to try and point the finger and work out what's bugging me, instead of just accepting that I could be having a bad day.
I had a really good weekend in the most part. Friday evening, I took some photos of bees, hung out with Mark and Kate and Leo for a while after work, wearing the little man out and wearing myself out in the process! I had an early night listening to 2001: A Space Odyssey on audiobook. It's been years since anyone read me a story in bed, and I'm totally hooked on audiobooks now. I've seen the movie a few times and never read the book - I'm about three-quarters of the way through and it's utterly brilliant.
Saturday I lounged in bed for a while jabbering with Tess before getting up and going out for a walk around Great Brickhill woods with Tracey. That was a lovely time - mostly sunny, great conversation, wonderful nature moments and some good photos. I'm so pleased we got out, she's great company and I needed to get out of the house, this being only the second walk in four weeks. I've totalled about eleven miles in a month, which is rubbish. I must get out more... come on weather, sort your shit out!
Sunday was lazy. I was supposed to be walking with my folks but got a call ten minutes after waking saying dad was sick and the walk was cancelled. I didn't complain and put 2001 on again before getting another couple of hours sleep. I lounged some more, watched some TV, ate, watched some internet and listened to some more book before napping another couple of hours. I ate mexican chipotle pork with Sophie, watched Dr Who with her which was pretty good, emailed Tess and went to bed with 2001 again. A reasonably good night's sleep apart from a dream about my dad saying I couldn't go out walking with them again, it was too much hassle. I specifically felt really rejected and dejected. I was woken by downstairs girl coughing repetitively, apparently to get her mum's attention. I need new earplugs, although it would have only meant another 25 minutes sleep but I think I could do with the practice of getting my head back down and taking as much sleep as I can squeeze out of a night.
*yawns*
Anyway, meh. I might go to Mark and Kate's again and hang out with Leo this afternoon after work, of I may go and cook and watch a movie as I'll have the flat to myself again this evening. Or I might walk. We'll see what the weather does. Maybe I'll do all three, that'd be fun.
I had a really good weekend in the most part. Friday evening, I took some photos of bees, hung out with Mark and Kate and Leo for a while after work, wearing the little man out and wearing myself out in the process! I had an early night listening to 2001: A Space Odyssey on audiobook. It's been years since anyone read me a story in bed, and I'm totally hooked on audiobooks now. I've seen the movie a few times and never read the book - I'm about three-quarters of the way through and it's utterly brilliant.
Saturday I lounged in bed for a while jabbering with Tess before getting up and going out for a walk around Great Brickhill woods with Tracey. That was a lovely time - mostly sunny, great conversation, wonderful nature moments and some good photos. I'm so pleased we got out, she's great company and I needed to get out of the house, this being only the second walk in four weeks. I've totalled about eleven miles in a month, which is rubbish. I must get out more... come on weather, sort your shit out!
Sunday was lazy. I was supposed to be walking with my folks but got a call ten minutes after waking saying dad was sick and the walk was cancelled. I didn't complain and put 2001 on again before getting another couple of hours sleep. I lounged some more, watched some TV, ate, watched some internet and listened to some more book before napping another couple of hours. I ate mexican chipotle pork with Sophie, watched Dr Who with her which was pretty good, emailed Tess and went to bed with 2001 again. A reasonably good night's sleep apart from a dream about my dad saying I couldn't go out walking with them again, it was too much hassle. I specifically felt really rejected and dejected. I was woken by downstairs girl coughing repetitively, apparently to get her mum's attention. I need new earplugs, although it would have only meant another 25 minutes sleep but I think I could do with the practice of getting my head back down and taking as much sleep as I can squeeze out of a night.
*yawns*
Anyway, meh. I might go to Mark and Kate's again and hang out with Leo this afternoon after work, of I may go and cook and watch a movie as I'll have the flat to myself again this evening. Or I might walk. We'll see what the weather does. Maybe I'll do all three, that'd be fun.
Friday, May 6, 2011
I've been thinking about my dad
recently, and how he's shaped some of my behaviour over the years. Knowing I'm in line for CBT has helped me spot some behaviours I'd like to try and change, and my reaction to my dad's attitude is one of them.
I had a good chat with Tess about this a few days ago. Here's some highlights from my part of the conversation:
Here's an old example of the most extreme course of dad's anger:
I can't even estimate the number of times it happened but we didn't get dragged half-way across the country - it's probably in the hundreds. I moved out when I was eighteen, glad for the freedom and to get out of this cycle of being scared of someone I'm supposed to be close to. I kind of lost touch with both my parents after I moved out, despite living within very few miles of them for my whole life. I even rebelled against my dad shortly after he and my mum separated for a few years - they got back together again, just like they always did.
In my mid-twenties my mum told me he wasn't be biological father, the same night she came to my door crying with a bag in her hand saying she'd left him. I didn't realise the significance of that image, that moment, until just now. Interesting. My rebellion took the form of a strong, concise and eloquent letter to my dad describing how I felt I'd been treated over the years, like I was the odd one out, and how his anger had caused his sons to withdraw. I wish I'd kept a copy of that letter; who knows, it may be sat on one of the numerous old hard drives I've got in a box. I wish I'd kept his response too, which spoke of a tough childhood, heavy hard-drug use, an aggressive and physical father and expressed regret at how he was built.
I may have moved away from the source of those feelings, but it's clear the effects of those events still have repercussions now, particularly when dad shows his edge, and in how I handle conflict and aggression: badly. There's a whole lot to think about up there, but mostly I think it's worth looking at the fundamentals of my behaviour when presented with aggression, patterns involved in people who have effected me in that way, and how to progress to improve that behaviour.
Tess made a good observation about this last paragraph: I don't handle conflict and aggression badly, I handle it very well. It's the feelings about it I'm uncomfortable with, and maybe that's worth further investigation.
I had a good chat with Tess about this a few days ago. Here's some highlights from my part of the conversation:
Although I hope my dad's in a better mood than he was last time. The miserable cunt. The trouble is that as soon as he starts I revert to old coping behaviour and I get sad and upset and close in on myself and completely stop enjoying the walk, or the car ride, or whatever. It's REALLY fundamental to my being. I think if it was anyone other than my dad or mum I'd be more capable of blocking it out, accepting it for who they are etc but it really fundamentally effects my mood.Reading that all through again shows me one emotion that stands out from the others: fear. Fear of aggression, conflict, confrontation, pain, fear of fear itself. That last one is really interesting, and it reminds me of recent ways I've reacted to dad's anger. I curl up in a mental ball and try to protect myself from getting scared.
I'll have to learn to accept it as part of who he is. I think that's probably the hardest part. Accept it, let him be it, move on. Ignore it. It's just so hard. I don't know why.
I think I feel somewhat forced to "love" and "respect" him as he's my father figure, when in reality I guess I just want to resent and dislike and forget about him. I hadn't really thought about it like that before. There's a fair amount of resentment behind all of this.
My instant reaction when I think about who to blame that is how he's treated mum through most of my memory. His anger, shouting, aggressive and unfair behaviour. Mum doesn't like living with him, hasn't ever really done, but feels trapped. She has no means to support herself and she's scared. Scared of being alone, fending for herself, scared what me might do.
I guess it's his unwillingness to better himself, to change for the better, that frustrates me most. He's never really admitted he's got a problem with anger management.
The real question is "What am I attempting to blame?" As in, the action or outcome. I blame my mum for staying with him as long as she did - which is a catch-22 because without her doing so I probably wouldn't have my youngest brother and maybe not Luke either, my life would have been completely different. At the same time if she'd have left him years ago it would have saved a whole lot of heartache and mental anguish throughout my developmental years and beyond. She's admitted she regrets that and feels responsible for me being mentally ill. I blame my dad for being a miserable, misanthropic, stuck-in-18-year-old-boy unwilling-to-change angry annoying unloving cunt. *smirks* hah that felt good.
I think I'll tell him actually, next time he pisses me off. I'll tell him "I don't want to inflame your bad mood but I want you to know that whenever you get mad like this it brings me down, turns me into a defenceless five-year-old boy and ruins my day."
He hit me once, in my early teens. We were on holiday in a caravan in Wales, I think, by the sea. It'd been a nice enough break, the three of us boys taking advantage of the sun and free reign. Dad had been pretty miserable for much of the trip, as per usual. One morning I went in the shower and washed, then got out of the shower and dried and dressed. Dad started picking on me, pointing to some dirt on my face and saying I hadn't washed it properly. I said I had - I probably hadn't *shrugs* - he said I hadn't, I said I'd been in the shower, how can I not have washed my face? Mum was trying to calm him down, he was getting angrier, I was backed into a corner, he continued picking on me. I got scared and said "Why don't you just fuck off?" and he clouted me around the side of the head. I howled and cried, my little brothers started crying and mum dragged us boys out of the caravan and away from dad. We went for a walk along the cliffside to get away and leave him to calm down. We were out for an hour or two. After an amazing and exciting walk along the side of the cliff we came to a town and there was dad walking along the sea wall out looking for us. I dreaded seeing him. He came up to us and kind of settled things with mum, although I'm not sure he apologised to any of us. I was scared, and have been scared of him since. In fact, I think I was scared of him before.
In reality he was justified. Not that I'd hit Sophie around the head but it's a natural reaction for him, I think his dad used to hit him like that when he was naughty. I think the main thing is that if he'd smacked my arse I'd probably not really be that bothered, and if it wasn't preceeded by him being angry and unreasonable it probably wouldn't be worth comment.
Here's an old example of the most extreme course of dad's anger:
- Dad gets angry
- I get scared, leave the room, hide in my room or go out to play
- Mum meekly defends herself
- Dad gets more angry
- I get more scared
- Lots of shouting, swearing, aggression purely from dad, mum stays calm
- It all gets blown out of proportion
- Mum grabs me and my brother, packs a small bag and takes us out of the house
- We catch a bus or train to my parent's friends in Birmingham
- Someone entertains us while mum sits in a room with someone else and cries
- Eventually dad turns up and convinces mum to come home
- We all go home and wait for the next time this happens
I can't even estimate the number of times it happened but we didn't get dragged half-way across the country - it's probably in the hundreds. I moved out when I was eighteen, glad for the freedom and to get out of this cycle of being scared of someone I'm supposed to be close to. I kind of lost touch with both my parents after I moved out, despite living within very few miles of them for my whole life. I even rebelled against my dad shortly after he and my mum separated for a few years - they got back together again, just like they always did.
In my mid-twenties my mum told me he wasn't be biological father, the same night she came to my door crying with a bag in her hand saying she'd left him. I didn't realise the significance of that image, that moment, until just now. Interesting. My rebellion took the form of a strong, concise and eloquent letter to my dad describing how I felt I'd been treated over the years, like I was the odd one out, and how his anger had caused his sons to withdraw. I wish I'd kept a copy of that letter; who knows, it may be sat on one of the numerous old hard drives I've got in a box. I wish I'd kept his response too, which spoke of a tough childhood, heavy hard-drug use, an aggressive and physical father and expressed regret at how he was built.
I may have moved away from the source of those feelings, but it's clear the effects of those events still have repercussions now, particularly when dad shows his edge, and in how I handle conflict and aggression: badly. There's a whole lot to think about up there, but mostly I think it's worth looking at the fundamentals of my behaviour when presented with aggression, patterns involved in people who have effected me in that way, and how to progress to improve that behaviour.
Tess made a good observation about this last paragraph: I don't handle conflict and aggression badly, I handle it very well. It's the feelings about it I'm uncomfortable with, and maybe that's worth further investigation.
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