Letter to SC

It has just occurred to me to share this memory I've kept and never given air time before. I was writing this morning and it popped out for the first time and yet it's been a memory that comes ito consciousness from time to time.

I once bought a record called Lying in the Arms of Mary. At the time I just loved it. I knew all the words. (I'e listend to it since just once and it's dreary - thank goodness for changing sphistications - or maybe not too - )

I would have been about 16 years of age. I have no idea where my mumwas - she may havebeen away on a business trip, she may even have been in bed. I don't recall the build up to the situaiton but this one evening my dad and I were sitting in the dark. He was in one sofa and I was on the other. I think I had asked him to listen to the record with me. This in itself was not usual as generally my dad didn't like listenting to music unless it was the radio. INterestingly I was gping to write and so will that he let me put the record on over and over and over and over and over again. Every time it sopped I put it on again. I can remember thinking any minute now he will tell me tos top but he didn't and so I didn't stop. I found it all strange at the time. I judder to the very core, a cringe that's a familiar sensation in my body when I think of us sitting there.I evven hate using the word sensation as somehow it has connotations of being pleasant.

We said nothing at all, not a sound.

I sometimes feel much that this memory is worse than some of the physical things that happened. Isn't that bizarre? The physical things are so obvious and wrong but things like that are much creepier and more evil,more sinister.

It's etched deeply in my memory. We weren't even sitting next to each other (thank goodness) but I have this impending feeling that he will get up and move closer. Ugh - judders from the inside right the way to the outside. And as if waiting forever that I can't get away from as if I'm locked into that seat. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Stuart I have meant to contact you. My dad died in February. For me it's a relief. I say that sometimes and think people will think I'm evil, but it's true. I wonder if it's a delay tactic to ward away the grief that's been there my entire life. But so far I have trickles of sadness and whenI realise I won't hear from him again but mainly a feeling of freedom that I won't hear from him again. Not in the sense of ghosts, but I do feel his presence. One night I even heard a whisper in my ear - "sorry".

My dad disinherited me. That hurt more than anything.

His last words for me were the most hurtful. He had been saying horrible things to me, telling me off when his consultant spoke to me in my dads opinion me taking too much of the consultants time. He complained about my clothes and then wanted me to leave. He pretended to fall asleep and that was the last time I saw him conscious. That hurts deeply. The final rejection. People say my dad deep down loved me but honestly I do not think this is true. I think deep down he disliked me intensely. I know people will dispute that but I know it. Some thinsk we do just know.

I do know the soul of the man did feel that hatred for anyone really. But that is different. My dad was not in touch with his soul.

Since his death I have discovered many horrible things about him. In fact I have discovered that his entire persona was fabricated. It rocked me. Somehow it meant that everything about my existance wasn't what I had thought it had been. I feel so sad for my mum. She must have known. But she did nothing. perhaps in the final years of her life she was fighting back. I realise she used to say "stop it John" when he was torturing me somehow - mentally or physically but she did nothing to actually change the situation.I understand that she must have been very afraid of him.

I think now she must have known something about what was going on with me. I have learnt that her boss and a few friends had approached her and said that it wasn't decent that I was left alone after school. I had looked after myself since the age of 5 and at 9 people started to notice and said something. I have also learnt that a family who were firnds of our family since I was little always felt that I was not a happy child and were worried that there was something going on, even wondering if I was being abused. Gosh if only we all had the courage to confront situations when we are suspicious. I know how difficult I found it when I was suspicious of a neighbours activities and a very damaged little girl. But I was afraid I would be out of order. I did say something in the end and it turned out to be true. Thankully the little girl is getting help and the fatjer has been removed. The mother dislikes me intensely. It must be odd for a wife to suddenly have no husband for reasons so foul. The love cannot be switched off and the grief yet all mixed up with the horrors of what had been going on.

So I do understand these people's dilemma but wow I wish someone had rescued little me.

Sometimes it still pops into my head that I made it all up but not as often. But it's more in a way that this ca't possibly have happened to me, to us within our family. We were just a normal family.

I have learnt more about my dads affairs. I was absolutely disgusted through my body when an old army pal told me that my dad was the randiest man any of the regiment had ever known and they did actually worry about it!! Ugh! I wanted to run out and vomit. Strangely I had a slip with my food that lunchtime whilst there in the regiment headquarters - no surprise really. But oddly I didn't want to eat the trigger food it was actually but I was too scared to say I couldn't eat it.

I suddenly realised the full extent of my fear of people. Ad have plenty more situations to face where the fear of people has been so mountainous to be almost too big to deal with.Thank goodness for recovery and for a lot of support.

I am learning Stuart - I am learning so much.

I have also learnt about lies my dad has told about me. It's horrid to hear. But then there are so many truths when I was in my using days that oddly he hasn't talked about to people. That's strange but I recognise it too in me. I remember doing my first step one in treatment and I fabricated these awful things connected with drinking and drugs yet didn't talk about any of the actual awful things I was doing. But I didn't connect those things with my using I thoght they were me so in shame as I realise now had to hide those things. How flipping convoluted I am which is what scares me as I see that I am similar to my dad.

I am afraid that I am a pathological liar as I now believe he was. I am afraid that I am never able to hold down a relationship because I am as sick as he was.

I am afraid that I didn't have children because I would abuse them as he did. I did once think of feeling my little cousin when she was about 3 - thankfully she ran off. I was 13. I loed her so so much. She was just the cutest thing. I wouldn't want to hurt her.

She died just voer a year ago - 41 and left behind her three lovely young girls.

I am far too distant from my family members. I have ketp it that way since I left home at 17. I don't know why but I'm scared that I do keep a distance because I'm like my dad. Yet I love people and really love my frinds and socialising. IN fact I've had to learn how to be by myself. Now I enjoy my alone time but with a constant healthy size and feeling confiddent it is easy now to socialise. I used to a lot but be so uncomfortable when I was overweight.

I know lots of things I write are sort of classic symptoms of .... whatever label. But when it's me it's difficult to rationalise everything sometimes.

I have no idea why this morning the memory of Lying in the Arms of Mary suddenly came to mind again. However, it did and for the first time I wrote about and felt that feeling of impending doom that comes with it.

I know my dad can't get up and move closer now but of course in my psyche he still can.

I went to see his dead body. It was strange. You see the situation with his wife was so swkward and horrible things were happening with her during the day when he was in the throws of dying. It was so uncomfortable with her behaviour that I decided to leave knowing that I would not see my dad again. It was horrid sitting next to his dying self ad touching his arm. I didn;t want to touch him because I elt disgusted by the feel of him. Not in dying jsut the repulsion of him. HIs smell had been different for some years but him lying there dying it was there again. I touched him because I was too scared not to inc ase his wife continued to think I was just cold. She had no idea of course. I so wanted to scream out what had actually happened. I wanted to scream out in the curch for his funeral. They all looked at me as if I was the evil one. It was so difficult. I could not stop my body from shaking.

But anyway before that I went to see his body. They were waiting for his coffin. A really weird choice of his I thought - a wicer coffin. Every time I think of that I think how odd. Occassionally my dad did odd things.

So the warned me that he was on a plinth with just a veil over him. It looked therefore as if he was floating. He looked as if he was alive too. When my mum died I was there as she died and she definitely looked gone - dead - noone there. with my dad he looked as if he was still there and I thought at any moment he was going to ump up and start telling me off.

Stuart I did the weirdest thing ever. I took a picture of his dead body. I really wasscard to do it because he would get up and shout at me. He would have hated me doing that he would have found me disgusting I know that.

I have kept the photo. I don't look at it. Well once or twice but I know it's there. every so often when flicking through my album I see if flit past.

I think I must be so weird.

I rally can see how over the years of using, since I was 17 really things started getting ou of hand and escalated to a peak but which was the level setting through my thirties. iw as a mess and I know that I hurt my mum and dad. The thing is my dad could never forgive me.

I ahve been forgiving him. IN the last year and a half I have been shoiwing up being friendly and keeping some light contact. Partly I wanted to and partly to be kept in the will - ha ha ha - last laugh on him with that. I despise his wife and have to pray extra hard.

She really was awful but everyone found her awful it would seem. I saw how her daughters were affected by her and jst elt sad. I pary for her for my resnetments to be lifted.

I also know a little of her story now and feel very sad for her.

As much as I hate to admit it I think perhaps she and my dad found som happiness together. I don't think either of them were actually happy but maybe there was a reprieve for them when they shut everyone else out which is what they did.

I hope so anyway.

What I am tryiong to reconcile is how the lies I've leant about seem to invlidate all that I thought as true. Everything about him was so fabriated that it means nothing was as it actually appeared. My mum and used to know that stories didn't actually fit. We used to cover up for him so became a part of the fabrication. I no longer know what the truth of my lifetime actually is. It feels odd. I feel odd.

I feel ashamed for people to know I am his daughter. I feel enbarrassed now taling to family friends. I feel ridiculous talking to his military friends and yet I want to be friendly as they ahve been so good to me.

I want to run and be someone else somewhere else at the worst moments. But I also know that it snot a solution. I tried it and it didn;t work. Ha ha.

I don't have the urges to do anything at all. My life overall is so good. Food recovery has been a remarkable root of change.

All the work I have done with you has been an incredible grounding to be able to even get into food recovery. Weird that it had to be that way around when all addictions therapy suggests sensibly that change the addictive behaviour andthe rest will become clear.

I wasn't intending on writing all of this but it seemed to flow out. Amidst a lot of tears at some points too.

I do not struggle with living on a day to day basis anymore. Sometimes things seem to hit me in the pit of my stomach and wind me temporarily. I actually enjoy living. I am tentative to write that as it also means letting go of my old friend bleakness and inertia and deatliness. There is a slight reluctance to let go. If I've got a hold of them then I know where they are. If I let go then they are free to wonder around and catch me out.

They were always there until one day they took me over without me even knowing they could. Now I am cautious with a fear that is becoming a healthy respect.

S I've written this and just want to hear what you think of it all. I am not looking for THE one solution but I just want to hear what you think of it all. Your honest thoughts. I trust you and when I sat and thought I need to tell someone you were the only person I could tell. It's because you are impartial yet know me. I don't want the food recovery talk of it all or the friends versions of their own experiences similar to mine or anything like that.

Of course I would do that too but first of all this is me - does that makes sense.

What would you suggest?

I don't necessarily want to say any more than all that has just come out.

Phewff I feel exhausted.

Thank you for reading this

warm regards

The judderman is back

.... this morning at 4 am I was woken by a call - blocked number (which G had been doing with his phone) and no one spoke. I feel pretty certain it was him. He has very disturbed sleep - terrible dreams in the early hours - so I hope he's not going to have a period of making calls to disturb me.

It may not have been him of course.

I really pray for his hurt to heal.

I feel dreadful for being any part of hurting him at all. I have no regrets about this time with George apart from there being any hurt. It happens though. "Adventuring" brings the full array of joy, fear, anger, plus hurt and sadness. I would rather have had my experiences than not I think. I say this now in hindsight and with the knowledge i have today. But in the pain of course I don't want it. I don't just mean this time with G, I mean every time with everything. Including all the stuff with my dad. I'd still rather not have been on the receiving end of sexual abuse in all it's shapes and forms with my dad and indeed through my adult life too. BUT I can better live with these memories and impacts today I think. I am changing and improving. And for this I am truly grateful.

Do you know? I do feel regret when I look back and see the men I have allowed into my life. Not all. I've been out with many men who I have truly fancied. But in the same progressive manner with other obsessions, I have allowed men into my life that I really have not fancied at all. JH was one of them. My dealer. Oh my god if you had met him. I was repulsed by him but you know what - drugged of course - the paranoia that he was seeing someone else - baffling. Of course he was, like me women were hooked in with the drugs. Shit I feel the shame of wanting these men. And indicative of my self-worth they just have to pay that little bit extra attention. Just clawing at anyone who shows even a crumb of love. It's so sad that anyone should not feel worthy enough ....

It's so compelling that at times I really don't know I can have what I want.

But each time I learn a little more. What is incredible is that I am perfectly okay on my own. I like people and enjoy sharing experiences with people. But to be home on my own is so easy and relaxing. From a child that has never been the case. I spent so much time alone as a child. From a little girl I would return home from school and be alone. I made up people and played make believe games. There was always silence in the house apart from in my head. I think that's why I liked music so much but when my dad came home music had to be switched off. Yet when he wanted music we had no choice. My mum liked classical music and especially the arias, my dad never ever let her listen to it. She like the Beatles too and had loads of records but she was never allowed to listen to them. Instead we had to listen to music he liked if we had the radio on.

I feel quite sick thinking of this but I once bought a record called Lying in the Arms of Mary. (Now I've listened to it and its dreary ha ha ha). The song carries a bit of me with it forever. However I want to continue to unlock the binding chains.

I really loved this record. When I bought it one night my mum was away on a trip. My dad and I sat in the dark listening to it over and over and over and over again. He let me keep putting it on. I never normally was allowed to play my records on the stereo I had to play it on the old fashioned portable in my bedroom. God how old I am as for ages they were the only record players ha ha ha ha . I wish I still had it and all my records. As usual I got rid of them in one of my many geographicals.

Whenever I think of that evening I cringe to the very core. Sometimes feel much that memory can be worse than some of the physical things that happened. Isn't that bizarre. The physical things are so obvious and wrong but things like that are much creepier and more evil and more sinister.

It's etched deeply in my memory. We weren't even sitting next to each other (thank goodness) but I have this impending feeling that he will get up and move closer. Ugh - judders from the inside out and one of those forever waiting moments that I can't get away from as if I'm locked into that seat waiting forever.

It's been a big thing in my psyche from then and this is the first time I've ever written about it. I shan't of course send this email. And now know I need to talk to someone about this. It has to be someone very safe. And that person is SC. I think I will email him.

 

But then step in LW. This flirtatious contretemps has been fun but I know it's a distraction from feeling the feelings. There is one difference, he is very fanciable to look at and by the sounds of it lives a way more in tune with my own, i.e. working and earning. G was very different in this way, preferring not to work and making doing with little money. Of course I immediately have fantasies and he talks of just arriving. He is very naughty and I've gone along with it. I have fantasy as hopes but not really that disillusioned. I will just go along with it but terrified of course of the insecurity setting in as attachment grows. How can I stay detached? God help me.

 Bliss