When I was very, very young, I was my father's favorite child. I reveled in it. It was a sense of pride. But the problem was, I was a very bright child. I don't say that in a braggy way. It is a fact. I was smart and insightful and aware.
I was in about 2nd grade the first time my father and I had an argument about some obscure fact or another. Of course he was right...I was in 2nd grade and he was an adult! He gloated, and I learned to pick my battles. I was in 4th grade the first time I won an argument. I gloated, and everything changed.
That's when I learned something about my father. I learned something about why he treated my older brother and sister the way he did. My father coveted power. He resented every aspect of his life in which he was in the power or control of someone else. As a result, he exerted his power fiercely whenever given the opportunity. My brother was beaten so that he would remain submissive. My older sister (his step-child) was somewhat willful and did not hold back when she had something to say to or about him. She was emotionally berated and constantly grounded. And when I proved that I could equal him in intellect...or at least proved that I had the potential to do so...he felt like he had lost the power in our relationship. And I was frozen out. I was in 4th grade.
My younger sister lacked any desire to be anything. She was, like my mother, content to live out her life as a perpetual victim...someone to whom bad things happened. She never really matured. She never became responsible or aware of basic social rules. My father could treat her like a 2 or 3 year old when she was a teenager, and she was just fine with that.
When he was home, she would ask him to wake her up in the mornings, knowing full well what that entailed. So in the mornings, he would come into our room and "tickle" us awake. By the way, we didn't have pajamas. So I slept in a t-shirt while my younger sister generally just slept in her underwear. The inappropriate nature of this little scene began to really bother me around the time I turned 12. Something about it just wasn't right. Not to mention, I was becoming a teenager and was less open to childish activities such as being tickled by one's father. Not to mention, I was becoming a teenager and was less and less inclined to smile at 6 o'clock in the morning.
And that's when it really started. At 12, I told my father that I had no desire to be woken up by him. Ever. I had my own alarm clock and was perfectly capable of waking up myself.
He lost just a little bit more power.
And that was the straw that broke the camel's back, I guess. Very rarely was our relationship pleasant ever again.
But that didn't bother me. My parents were not especially loving people. I was used to being on my own, being responsible for myself. I was used to my mother's volatile mood swings, my father's violent temper. What I wasn't used to was the viciousness of my father. I think he knew what would bother me, and he pushed that button purposefully. He continued to wake up my younger sister in the morning but would deliberately disturb me in the process. When I protested, he would say, "What's your problem? You on your period or something?"
Rude. Vicious. Horribly inappropriate. And the exact thing that would infuriate and humiliate me. That's when I really started to hate him.
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I feel like pornography is a hot button issue in our house right now. My husband is being very open and honest with me, but I'm afraid to broach the subject. I don't want to rub his nose in it, especially when he is trying...no...determined...to change. And I think I'm afraid to know things about it....things that I can't unknow....things that will haunt me. I already feel like I have more ghosts hiding in the darker regions of my mind. I don't know if I can't handle more.
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I'm afraid of seeming like my father. I'm afraid that something bad will happen, and I'll wonder if it's because of pornography...and I'll feel suspicious and ask him....and he'll feel like I'm being rude and vicious and horrible....like I'm trying to infuriate and humiliate him. I'm afraid of putting too much pressure on him or not healing fast enough...I'm afraid he'll stop being so patient with my feelings of nervousness and suspicion...I'm afraid of giving him any excuse to hate me.
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