Dysfunctional

I was intending to write about something else, but since yesterday afternoon I've been a bit anguished. I created this blog to ramble about anything that comes to my mind and I can't seem to keep something out of it which is what this post is about.

Dysfunctional. Remember how I rambled about how many words can describe us? Well, here I've found another one that suits me fantastically. You may wonder why that is and what this has to do with my post, well, I'll tell you right away.

It was May 2009 when my family began to collapse. My father has always been a complex person to deal with, his mood would change in the twinkling of an eye and he would turn aggressive or even violent towards any one who would dare to face him. Most of the times the person confronting him would be right, but he would have never accepted that. He would start yelling, insulting or attempting to punch you; I remember once I got to work on a nervous breakdown because he had been about to punch me right in the face.

That year, on that month, the day of my nephew's first birthday, he had a huge argument with my brother whom he always treated like crap. He had always seemed jealous of my brother and he had never treat him like a father would treat his son. Because of that argument, my brother stopped coming to my house and instead, my mother and I would go to his house to see him and my nephew. Sometimes, my brother would drop my nephew at home, and my father would ignore him completely because, according to him, the baby didn't like him (how could a one-year-old baby not like someone I really ignore it). The thing is that we, specially my mother, would spend more time with my brother and my father completely lost it because of that.

He became obsessive with my mother and psychologically abused her. He treated her like shit too. He also threatened to kill her in more than one occasion, not because he was going to do it, but only because he wanted to scare the hell out of her. He said things like he was going to hurt my brother or set his store on fire, because, according to him, she preferred my brother over him. Also, he became something like a religious fan and locked himself up in my brother's old bedroom to read the Bible every day and had a cross hanging on his chest.

We got to a point in which I was driving myself nuts and had to be around all the time because he would take advantage of that time alone with my mother to threaten her and all. I was afraid to leave my house, thinking that someone was going to call me to say he had killed my mother.

By December 2009, a few days before Christmas (my birthday, btw) he left to another province because he had relatives there. We felt free at last, because that year was a huge nightmare. My mother was happier, I was calmer, and my brother even came to my house.

On January 2010, one of my aunts (who lives where my father went) called us and told us he was coming back because some friends told him he had rights and that our house was his house too. He came back and as he entered the flat locked himself up in my brother's old bedroom. By lunch time he came out and that's when everything completely collapsed. He pushed my mother against a wall and hit her, and he only stopped when he  heard me screaming like a maniac "Let her go", I still don't know what happened to me there because my mind went blank. My mum says I began trembling and crying and yelled at him so much that he froze where he was, he tried to hug me and I yelled even more. She grabbed my hand and we packed some things and left.

To make a long story short, we left and never came back. We lost everything, all our belongings and the furniture, except for our clothes. He never let us take anything out of the flat. It took us a month to find a new flat, meanwhile, I had to live with my boyfriend and my mum had to live with my brother. We were able to buy some furniture and we had a fresh start in another town.  My mother had to change her work because he went there asking for her a couple of times, and we reported him to the police for domestic abuse. He found a job as a taxi driver, and I've seen him wandering around my block with his car a couple of times.

Two years later, here I am, at my house. Right now my mother is playing games with my nephew in the living room. Everything changed for us. We are still afraid of going out, because we don't know when we might run into him. The last thing we heard about him was that he moved out of our old flat and now lives with his girlfriend somewhere else. He took everything with him, our belongings, everything.

My family's dysfunctional. I am dysfunctional too. This nightmare has changed me a lot. I can tell you I don't hate him, I don't love him either. He's just a person who turns out to be my father. In 22 years I lived with him we had our good times and also our bad times, but after everything that happened I'm not capable of feeling anything towards him. He just doesn't mean anything to me anymore. He's just someone who scares the shit out of me and who, right now, represents a threat to me and my family.

Yesterday was his birthday, and that's what moved me to write this post. I didn't even send him a message. I don't know if he spend it with someone and I don't care either. I know this might be a bit strong to read for some of you, but as I said before, I'm not capable of feeling anything towards him.  Yet, I have been anguished and yesterday was a hard day for me because it reminded me of everything I went through two years ago. I think I might never recover from it, but at least right now it's just anguish, it's not pain anymore.