I know what a divorced father feels like.

Those poor guys who lose their families to the capriciousness of shallow young women, I feel their pain. One day, you’re living your life, things are rough but you think you’re working on the problems and everything will be Ok. The next, she’s taken your kids and you have to petition a court to see them or you get only 1 afternoon a week, if you’re lucky and she doesn’t decide she has better things to do than bring them over.

I have lived with my grandson, my only grandchild, for over 14 months. I’m retired on disability and am home all day, every day. He and I are used to being together on a daily basis. My daughter, for reasons unknown to me, has decided to take him away to her on-again, off-again boyfriend’s grandmother’s house. I’ve asked and asked why and gotten only a litany of the bad things I did as a mother when she was eleven. She has said nothing on any current reasons why I am so impossible to live with now.

I’m not saying she didn’t have reasons. I know I’m an opinionated, crotchety old woman. I’d just like to know what I actually did wrong. If she won’t tell me what bothered her enough to take her son and run away, how am I supposed to do better in the future?

I had asked for every other weekend visitation with my grandson. She has countered with every Saturday afternoon when she comes over to take care of her cats that are still a part of my household. Since the boyfriend and his family are Jewish, I’ve also asked for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. No answer on that as yet. They are invited for Christmas Eve dinner and dinner on Christmas Day as well. (I do a lot of cooking and baking in December!)

I miss him terribly! My house is still full of his toys, furniture, clothes, and just stuff in general. So, there is a constant reminder of who is not here. My house is still majorly disrupted by being “baby-proofed” by my daughter. I’m reluctant to put everything back if he’s really going to be here every week. She still has my sewing room full of her stuff and one other bedroom is still dedicated to him. So, they are gone but their stuff and her cats remain. I’m very lonely without him. I had such plans for Christmas together.

I’d like to have my house back if they’re not going to live here. I’d have her remove her stuff from my garage, basement, living room, family room and my sewing room but I’m afraid, if I push the matter, she will retaliate by withholding my grandson from me.

So, I know the pain, uncertainty, confusion and fear that fathers go through. Maybe we should form a support group.

Abuse

I am an abused child.




I used to say I ‘was’ an abused child until it occurred to me that it never ends.



I just want it to END. I have always looked forward to the deaths of my parents. I figured that was the only way the abuse would end. Boy, did I get that wrong.



Really abusive parents find a way to continue abusing from beyond the grave. I suffered for years at their hands. For my trouble, I got cut out of their estate. My brother and sister assisted them in this. They are accomplices in the continuing abuse, whether they realize it or not.



My sister denies that any abuse took place since she wasn’t on the receiving end of any. Just because she didn’t see or experience it, it didn’t happen. Or I’m just exaggerating or being overly ‘melodramatic’, our mother’s favorite way of invalidating a complaint. She had a childhood because I didn’t and she refuses to recognize this.



My husband and children have heard me tell stories from my childhood over and over. The stories never change. I don’t need to elaborate or exaggerate; the truth is bad enough. In addition, they have each witnessed the continuing abuse at the hands of my mother and sister. My younger daughter isn’t speaking to either of them at the present although they are invited to her wedding, pending their good behavior. My older daughter discounts my accounts of my abuse because she likes her grandmother. The older daughter is my mother’s favorite so she has always received special attention, like my sister did before her. My husband has actually come to my defense against my mother’s abuse. That was a special moment!! Even thinking of it now gives me a warm feeling.



Years ago, I tried to distance myself from my parents in the hope that the abuse would fade off. Hah! They got at me through my siblings and kids. Abusers always find a way. Even moving over 300 miles away wasn’t far enough.



For my attempts at self preservation I was branded an ‘ungrateful daughter’. I still haven’t been able to figure out what I’m supposed to be grateful for: the childhood that ended suddenly at 9 years of age, the beatings, the lack of medical care that almost killed me and contributed to the terminal heart condition I live with today or the physiological abuse that still prevents me from fulfilling my potential. (When you live with constant, harsh criticism, it’s hard to ever find the courage to do anything.) Therapy helped keep me from suicide.



So, not only did my father not love me, but my brother and sister were content to assist him in hurting me from beyond death.



I don’t know which hurts more.