I remember..

My father,, a word that would mean a lot more than just a couple of dumb letters combined together,, it means safety, a wall to lean on when life gets bitchy, a shoulder to cry on, a sanctuary .. and all that fatherly crab I’m not good at mentioning!

This week has taught me a lot more than I thought my entire 22 years would teach me,, I hate my father!

It’s not that I never realized it, it’s just that I made a series in my head containing all the shots from which he’s the main character, and what a character that was!

When the word “my father” comes up I think of something dangerous, unlike the normal in which I’m supposed to feel safe about the word “my father” of course! In fact he’s one of the most dangerous ppl around,, more dangerous than any other random enemy, no he’s the enemy!

When the word comes up I remember him kicking my pregnant mom just because she warned him not to trust his partners too much – who already stolen from him once –, and then pushing me – the 8 year old kid – with his filthy huge hand across the room till I hit the wall just because I stood up for my pregnant mom.

I remember his loud shouting,  cursing life, calling us names, the loudest sound I’ve ever heard in my life is probably his shouting, irony, god gave him such a golden throat!,, to him my mom is the *****, I’m the ungrateful black sheep, my brothers and sisters are the burden he has to carry while reminding us everyday how his life would be better if he just stopped caring and ran away or left us!.. it’s actually frightening as a horror exorcism movie when something that big stands right in front of you and just shouts as loud and nasty as it can! 

I remember how he comes as a visitor – no more than a visitor – to the hospital whenever some of us is there for an OR or sth,, I remember my mom who woke up from a surgery last year calling his name only to find out he’s not there..

I remember all the insults, and all the effort I wasted to impress him first, before I realized that this effort was just to gain some respect, to understand that this effort is going to the nearest garbage along with everything else cool I might do to make him stop all those insults! I remember clearly how I turned from trying to impress him to trying to make him respect me to trying to just make him shut up and leave me alone!

I remember how he pretends that his anger issues make him act like a drunken piece of ass when he starts shouting and cursing in public, thinking that his loud voice makes him the man he is not!

I remember how my mom had to buy me everything, my food, my bed, my clothes, my books.. how she had to pay more than half of the house’s pills, how she had to take me to clinics and hospitals every time I needed them while our old man is completely out of the picture, in fact all he did was complaining about how mom is spoiling us, or moaning like a woman about this tough life, yes the tough life he wasn’t part of!,, then he calls us a “burden”! I mean WTH! My mom – a woman – was much more a father to me than he’ll ever will! Both financially and emotionally!!

I remember him always trying to force me into things I don’t want! And I remember that my problem is always a problem until he’s involved, then my single problem divides into two problems! And this rule of little girls depending on their daddies whenever they face problems is not really a 100% accurate rule, I – as many others – am an exception. And trying not to make my big problems go through division I always hide them from the paranoid old man who can’t do any more than moaning and complaining and blaming me for everything that goes wrong like I’m some kind of a lazy god who can but don’t want to fix the world’s problems!

I remember how he uses every chance he has to remind my mom of her schizophrenic brother, to start a mocking session about my uncle’s behavior and the possibility of us being “as crazy as” our uncle..

I remember my father’s brothers, who are all physical abusers, I remember the one who hit his wife until she ran away to the street seeking help,, he followed her and didn’t mind abusing her in the street in front of everyone, saying she’s crazy and he’s trying to get her to take her pills!!.. I mean no wonder she’ll go crazy living with such a monster,,

I keep thinking what if my father turns to this even worse level of abuse!

And though the physical abuse is not much of a theme in my house, the idea of him being able to be a physical abuser whenever he wants is still a constant nightmare! And though he did use violence at some points, I think the only thing stopping him is his prestige, his image as a gentleman he’s so obsessed with, the image that’ll go ugly if anyone knew he’s a physical abuser!

Eventually, society is all about physical abuse, so I think he’s smart enough in a way he chooses to be the abuser he is but not in the traditional way.. in a way that keeps him far from the society’s eyes..

And now at my 5^th year in med school, an almost in markets book, I still feel abused by him,, I still feel abused by him through my attitude towards life and marriage, my sexuality which makes me feel pathetic because I don’t  want to be the lesbian who has daddy issues and is put on question because of those issues, my suicidal thoughts and tendencies which seem logical to me every time “I remember”!

And I always remember! You know one can never run away from family, one can never forget family no matter what, and whether family is good or bad, one always remembers!