Sept 20/20
I have always advocated for removing toxic people from your life because of how much damage they can inflict. I have encouraged my friends and family to do this when necessary and possible and I have been there for them no matter their decision. But once again I fail to find myself able to take my own advice and remove toxic people from my own life.
My father is not a good person. All my life he's had problems with anger that absolutely impacted his abilities as a parent. He was always angry. I have a very distinct memory of him being so angry with me over something I did when I was a small child that he put me over his knee and spanked me. I also distinctly remember my mother telling him that it wasn't bad enough to warrant that punishment. I don't remember now what it was I did but I know I never did it again. I also remember being afraid of my father from that point on.
Aside from the anger issues my father is a very religious man. Mormon. Every week when I was small we would host missionaries from the church and take part in home teachings where we would learn about god's word and how to do his work. We'd be told that it was important to go to church and, when we were old enough, to temple, to be baptized, to go on missions and spread the word of god. It was all supposed to ensure us a place in heaven. I never understood why though. I never understood why we had to go to church to be a good enough person to go to heaven. It never made sense to me and no one could explain it in a way that my young self could understand.
It was at this age that my therapist would say I was spiritually abused (I didn't even know that was a form of abuse). I was made to go to and participate in services and events held at the mormon church including a performance piece that was put on one evening during the week. I remember very clearly walking through the doors of the church and following my father to the gym where the chairs were arranged in rows and aisles, like you would find in a plane. We took our seats, a man started talking, and we were then being run through the standard safety speech before a plane takes off. The missionaries acted as attendants and walked up and down the aisle for a bit before walking "off stage" (there were no wings so they stood off to the side) and for a moment nothing happened. Then there were sounds to mimic turbulence coming from the speakers of someone's stereo, the lights flickered on and off, the "captain" urged people to remain seated and buckle up, and then the lights went out and the sound of a crash could be heard ringing through the gym along with the screams of people on the tape.
When the lights came back on, the attendants were no longer dressed in their suits, instead sporting long and flowing white robes. They stood in a line before us and one of them stepped forward and said "Ladies and gentlemen, your plane has crashed and there are no survivors." I don't remember anything that he said next, I just remember this feeling of panic, fear, and uncertainty. I didn't want to be there. But I didn't get to leave. I was made to follow my father and the other audience members as we were led through the church which was decorated to resemble different parts of the kingdom of heaven. When I got home that night, my brain couldn't handle it and I had my first existential crisis. I'm not 100% certain of how old I was but I know my mother had stayed home with my younger brother because he was too young to go which would put me anywhere between ages 4 and 8.
He still denies that he did anything wrong during the divorce as well. He denies stealing from us, attempting to kidnap my brothers, destroying one of the phones, and running off with the car at 2 in the morning. He denies forcing us to leave our home and go to a safe house because the police were after him to take back the bank card and house keys that he had stolen. He refuses to acknowledge the trauma he caused me and my brothers and realize that that night he forever changed how we see him.
I'm genuinely afraid of my father. Aside from violating all of mine and my brothers' rights (there's a separate bill of rights for children who's parents are separated/divorced), he would use the three of us as props for social workers and lawyers as he tried to take us from our mother. He would refuse to let us do our homework on nights we were forced to visit him, get angry when it was time to take us to our extra curricular activities, and once, he forgot to pick me up. I was left waiting after my dance class for over an hour with no way to contact my mother as the school was closing for the night and no one was in the office. One of the instructors waited outside with me for a while once I was made to wait outside so they could lock the doors but she left before dad arrived. I waited on that street corner for an additional 20 minutes by myself, at age 12, less than a block away from a well known crack house on a road frequented by sex workers and addicts (there's not a lot of town and the bad part is across the street from the good part) with no way to call my mother to come and pick me up.
My relationship with my father has always been stressed and we've gone through periods where we have not spoken. I was so scared of him that I would ask my mother to tell him that I was sick so I wouldn't be made to see him during his visitation, We often ended up fighting about one thing or another because he believes that he's always right and I believe that if you don't have a uterus you don't get to decide what people with a uterus do with them (as an example of one of many things we used to fight over). For a brief rundown of my father's beliefs, here's the cliffnotes: Abortion is murder, women are for making babies, we should kill the gays (hi, I'm bi), climate change is a hoax, green energy is stupid and pointless, being rich is a sign of success and not of inherited wealth and if you work hard enough everyone can be a millionaire, millennials are entitled and whiny who absolutely will not have any economic hardship and just want to complain, addiction should be criminalized, mental illness doesn't exist, homelessness is a sign of failure. Needless to say, we fight a lot.
These past couple of years however, I thought things were improving. His core beliefs were appearing to shift, he was leaving the church, and it was easier to talk to him. Last year I bought a car after my scooter was stolen from the parking lot at work and it failed the safety inspection. I would need new brakes soon as they just barely passed but I would also need rocker panels as they were the reason the car failed. I told dad and he assured me he could help and keep it cheap. He got me brakes which my brother installed and I paid him for. He also bought a caliper which I needed but he did not tell me what I owed him. During this time however, I was not allowed to communicate with his mechanic about the rocker panels. Finally, last week, he texted me to tell me that the parts were in and we needed to go see Doug (the mechanic) so I took my car, met dad downtown, and we drove to Doug's. My car is a 2 door Pontiac. Doug knew this as my father had sent him the exact info on the registration. Doug was only able to get them for a 4 door. Of course they didn't fit and I was sent home. But here's the thing, when I got there, dad gave me his car keys and told me to wait in HIS CAR while he took mine to see Doug. I am 26 years old. I own this vehicle. I will NOT wait in the car while you make decisions about it. I drove home that night fuming.
I talked to mom not two days later and learned something that made me even more angry. My father had decided on my behalf that once my brother installed the caliper over the weekend, I needed to bring my car down to his mechanic because he'd made some appointments: First, to have expanding foam used to fill my rocker panels, then fiber glass them, and then the following day he booked an appointment for a safety inspection for the car. Without telling me. Firstly, he booked all of this without talking to me about it, without asking me, without checking to make sure I wasn't busy or, for that matter, that my brother wasn't busy. I was furious. I understand he meant well but honestly, I'm a grown woman and it's my vehicle. He has no right making decisions about it without consulting me to see if I am on board. Furthermore, at this point, I had been waiting a month to get the rocker panels done. Every time I drove my car, I risked getting ticketed.
I looked around and found a body shop who was able to actually get the parts that Doug swore up and down were impossible to get and I dropped my car off today. I told my brother and my mother and my brother assured me that he would tell dad that he wasn't able to get the work done on my car and I'd needed to find a work around. He said he would do this Saturday. Instead he didn't talk to dad until tonight (Sunday) at 7:30 PM when I texted him, reminding him. Instead of what I thought he was going to say to my dad, he actually told dad just that I had taken the car to a body shop.
I received a text tonight that read: "You took the car to a body shop after I told you it was being done and didn't have the decency to tell me. Drop off the money you owe me and don't ask me for anything else." In his text to my youngest brother (the only one relevant to the story) he told him that he's done with the lot of us and to the middle child (other brother) he demanded a hard drive to be returned.
I know I should have told dad what I was doing but I am still scared of my father and he has done nothing to foster any kind of trust or feeling of safety and security. Ever. Furthermore, I was so angry with him, I honestly couldn't even speak to him. I for sure would have yelled and lost my cool which would only have made things worse. I get that.
HOWEVER
It is entirely unacceptable to treat your children this way. I'm so sick and tired of it. Constantly walking on eggshells, keeping my opinions to myself, needing to pretend that I'm fine when I'm actually really suffering and border line in crisis. I can't stand it. After the divorce, he stopped showing up to any of my dance and piano recitals, singing competitions, musical performances, soccer and field hockey games, everything. He was only invested in my brothers and even that died down when they got older. He only wanted us around because we made him look good to his friends and colleagues. That was it. And I'm done! I'm done. If he's "done with the lot of us" then let him be. Let him walk out of my life and I hope the door hits him on the way out.
Girl_in_love61636 Community Member 
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