Saturday, April 30, 2011

Big Hiding

My father was my best friend.  He was my mentor, confessor, jury, judge, hangman.  In the back of my mind he was the most terrifying person I knew, but up front and on the surface I trusted him more than anyone else.  Relationships broken by incest are complicated.  In the last few years, going about my day to day I feel almost nothing regarding my father.  It surprises me but I believe it is shock.  The system I had to carefully guard my mind from certain realities had started to break down, and my hero daddy turned into a monster before my eyes threatening to rape and kill his own daughter.  In a matter of seconds my perception of what I was in his eyes went from princess to whore.  I don't know if I will ever get over that.  I don't know if I will ever come out of shock.
I have never heard of any relationship quite like the one I have with my father, not even from people in incestuous homes.  They seem to have a better grasp of what is going on, or better distance.  I have never met anyone who so attached themselves in love to the person most dangerous to them.  I have read and been told that this is a survival mechanism, quite an interesting one, but I don't like to think of the love I had for my father as only a necessity to survive.  His was the most significant relationship I have ever had.  Perhaps in part because I was trained through force early on to confess everything to him- hiding any thought or action always resulted in punishment.  Hiding nothing always meant things would eventually be ok.  If I hid nothing he was my friend.  And at times he was the only friend I had.  His was always the strongest source of love I knew.
Strangely since I left home I have little feeling or personal memory of my life there.   I remember things of course in flashbacks, but they all seem distant and impersonal.  It is as if I have cut off all feeling of my life and relationships before age 22.  The numbness often prompts me to act as if it is no big deal, I can just move on, but I know it is quite the opposite.  Not feeling anything worries me about the enormity of what I am supposed to feel, as if it was too big and my brain just shut it out.  Perhaps I will get it in more manageable pieces down the road.

No comments: