Healing & Happiness

The decision to distance myself from my father in 2015 wasn't an easy one to do.

On the one hand he was my father. Every girl dreams of having a beautiful relationship with her dad and I so desired that for myself.

On the other hand the level of toxicity that was entangled in the relationship could not be managed or contained.

What had happened in the past wasn't something I threw in his face by any means. At times we would talk about it but it wasn't in a malicious way. It was done in a constructive manner in hopes of moving toward a better relationship.

The bi-polar nature he dealt with, left me on the side of being hit with explosive accusations, comments and bullying. The things he said to me, called me were awful and ultimately I let him do it for too long, just because I held onto this idea of 'maybe one day, we could have a father/daughter relationship. Maybe we could repair it, maybe one day he would change'.

All expectations I held on to for way too long. When I finally let go, I felt like I could breathe. I wasn't waiting for the next message or email. I blocked him on social media and email and his phone number.

I cut off all forms of communication because I knew I had to let it be over. It was too much and was interfering with my mind, my health and my other relationships. My stress levels were through the roof and I was dealing with some big health issues at the time and something had to give.

And while I had let go, he didnt and at times in the last 11 years he has tried to make contact or in his own ways... let me know he is watching...

I see it... I notice it... and I try my best to not let it get to me.

People often create versions of situations in their minds that align with the narrative they’ve built for themselves—especially those carrying deep emotional trauma. Sometimes this shows up as self-inflicted patterns, subconscious self-sabotage, or alternative interpretations of events that help protect them from facing a more painful or complicated reality..

My father is the prime example of this theory. Everything is a headline for him. From "owning multiple ranch properties" around Manitoba, to being a VIP at Disneyland because "they just love him so much there", to having another amazing daughter "who lives up to the task", to the latest running a circus where he is "famous".

His reality is in fact not reality at all. But he has convinced himself it is his life.

Years ago I was visiting him and he showed me a letter from a psychologist that stated he suffered from multiple mental health issues. From depression PTSD, bipolar, borderline schizophrenia and several others.

I truly believe that his inability to see reality is a direct result of his trauma growing up.

But unfortunately his inability to seek professional help is ultimately what had caused him to loose his children all together. On the surface he seems fine to most who interact with him. But it's easy to put things together when he starts talking and the way he says things. Very quickly you see things do not line up.

He wants to impress you. He says all the right things to get your attention. Especially if you are one for material things. He promises the world, but never delivers.

He demands to be understood and respected but he doesn't return the same expectation to those he interacts with.

Ultimately it's sad. My heart hurts for him and the hell he must live with internally. The things he must see when he closes his eyes about his own past. When he has moments of clarity, I wonder what he sees and feels, or does he ignore it and fill it with his delusions?

While I have no contact with him, I hope he one day, finds a way to silence the demons within him. I hope he finds a way to work through the pain his life has caused him so he can truly live freely.

At a very young age, it was apparent that my father was a dangerous man.

He told us stories of how "bad" he was growing up and how violent people knew of him to be.

Other then hitting us, my first experience of him going off on someone was when I was 6 years old. Sitting in the back of a car late at night, in the pouring rain, I watched my father beat the living snot out of some guy in front of a 7-11. To the point that the man was no longer moving.

To this day, I don't know what happened, why it happened or what came of it. If the guy lived or died I don't know.

At a young age, I knew that one day I would need to make the choice to leave. I knew staying was not going to end well for us and hoped one day we would feel strong enough to leave.

Our environment was toxic, full of fear, manipulation and control. We felt helpless and hopeless.

We are only responsible for ourselves and our own actions and reactions.

It took me YEARS to realize I was not responsible for how others reacted to or interpreted what I had to say. Just because what I said made them uncomfortable didn't mean what I had to say was wrong.

People generally do not like to be confronted or challenged and I have been known to do just that. Sometimes coming on a little strong, I have always spoke my mind and growing up, people had an issue with bluntness.

Over time I have learned to soften my approach and instead of coming across too strong, my response tends to be one of understanding and trying to help others see different perspectives.

In every situation I try to look at things from my own perspective but also the other person perspective. But also remembering that our realities may be very different. Does not mean either or us are wrong in our feelings and thoughts. But rather just different.

Safety has different meaning and levels for people.

In a sense we felt safe knowing most people who knew my father wouldn't dare hurt us because they were afraid of him.

On one hand we were protected and on another hand we were not, because of him.

This doesn't mean we were not put in uncomfortable situations that left us open to vulnerability.

In our home there was no privacy. There were bad people coming and going consistently and most we barely knew. From being walked in on in the bathroom while bathing to people walking into my room because they were "looking for the bathroom". Which was a stupid excuse as the bathroom was the first door at the top of the stairs and my bedroom was the furthest away.

Talking to my father about it did nothing. He didnt see the problem in someone just going to use the washroom even though I was in the bath. He didnt see the problem with having random strangers in our home all the time and how we could end up feeling unsafe.

It tooks years to feel comfortable getting out of the shower without feeling like I was being watched. Years of convincing myself no one was watching and checking behind the mirror, not wrapping myself up in a towel before I even opened the curtain after a shower. To not tense up or flinch when I heard footsteps coming down the hall.

It took years to rebuild a level of safety and privacy that should have never been broken.

From 11th street to 18th street in Portage La Prairie.

Police and CFS in our schools and home visits, we became quite accustomed to our life and lying through our teeth about what life really was like.

We knew what to say and how to say it to get them to leave and back off a bit. Even to the level of giving them attitude about why they keep bothering us.

We weren't afraid of them at all. Somehow I guess in our minds we thought we could fool them and everytime they left pay handed... on one level we were proud we fooled them and on the other wishing they saw through it all and called us out on our crap...

But they didnt. They needed US to speak up and we wouldn't, felt like we couldn't.