fogive and foget? I think I'm ready

I am a survivor of a rather traumatic childhood. Sure, I was not denied food or shelter, and my basic needs were met, but i guess you can say I have survived every kind of abuse on the books.

My parents were definitely not the best. Most assuredly, I am in a category of people who have found a way to not repeat all the physically, mental and sexual abuse that was inflicted upon me. Someway, somehow, the cycle has stopped here with me and my family. We are not spankers. We are not hitters. We are not "yelling"type of parents. Our kids know what we expect of them because we have found a more humane and compassionate way of existing with them as a family.
Of course any parent has had their moments when they throw in the towel and yell at the kids, but for the most part, this is a very rare occurrence at the Messercamp. My six year old even knows that she can tell me I am stomping around, or seem impatient with her. I think it is her right a sentient being to be able to say: "hey mom, you are being a little crabby!" I know that coming from the background I come from, I am sort of predisposed to have an angry outburst, a loss of patience, and just bossy tyrannical behavior. These of course, are habits and behaviors I seek to change and diminish as time passes.

So many of my memories of childhood are sad ones. On the other hand, any child, no matter how poorly treated, can find the good in their flawed parent.

I have come to a new crossroads in my relationship with my own father. He was, indeed, an abusive, controlling, tyrant of a parent. He beat my mother, beat up on my brothers and sisters, and scared the crap out of me on a daily basis. He felt the need or want to control just about anything imaginable. I knew someday I would grow up and move away, and I did just that when I became engaged to Jeff. I sent him a letter and let him know that I no longer wanted or needed him in my life. That was nearly 10 years ago.

As recently as my last pregnancy, he found a way to sort of "track me down" He showed up where Jeff worked, and sort of snooped around hoping to run into him. He found a way to leave voice mails for him at work begging me to contact him. So I called him back, 6 months pregnant, and ranted at him. I let him have it, just like I had dreamt of doing for so many years. I let him know that if he ever came around, I would pretty much go postal and kick his ass....don't forget I've had plenty of training in martial arts, and he is 67 years old now....I felt pretty confident that the mother in me would take him out.

Now it is over a year later, and I am having a change of heart. I am beginning to be able to see the other side of my dad. He was and always has been a pretty funny guy. He's got a strange sense of humor, and seems to want to do nice things for people. I have plenty of memories of what a strange and wacky guy he could be on a good day.

Upon more reflections and trying to understand the nature of the illness that is bipolar, I see much more clearly that he was subject to his own demons. He had survived an unimaginable amount of abuse and was an orphan at about the age of 8. He lived on the streets with his brother who was only 2 years older than himself.
that's gotta mess a guy up a bit.

I am beginning to look in the mirror at what it is about myself and what I have changed and continue to work on. I can see a bit more clearly now that we share some of the same problems.
His actions should, by no means, be excused. He chose to behave the way he did. He did the things he did because he chose to do them. But I wonder even more about those more lucid moments....where did that come from? How could he be so darn nice, and so damn funny, yet have this Jekyll/Hyde side that would allow him to beat on a child until they we a crumpled mess on the floor? It had to come form somewhere, and I think I see now how all that is so very possible.
I used to judge myself so harshly when I would have a moment of impatience,annoyance or jsut damn anger when it came to those I love. I know now wher it comes from and why. perhaps I have judged a man, instead of simply judging his actions.

Perhaps it is time to offer an olive branch of non-judgement. Perhaps I can find a way to co-exist with the creature that I remember needing a hug at the end of a long day, who liked to laugh long and hard at "the three amigos" over and over again. Perhaps I can let go of the pain that was inflicted upon me and decide to be in control of the relationship, instead of being the one who is controlled.
I miss having someone to speak Spanish to, to go to the Mexican store with, to eat all those strange foods my hubby thinks are completely weird to have for breakfast. When I think of the things and the memories I miss, I see now that they are connected to the very man who I have hated all these years.

maybe I can find a way to hold onto those good things, those good memories, those good parts of him, and let go of that which I do not care for.

I think it is time to move on and move forward. I will write my father a note and invite him to know my family as it is now. I am in control of the relationship. I am no longer the child who was subjected to all those terrible events and if this new version of the reationship does not serve my needs, or does not meet the criteria my husband and I have, then we will just not continue to have it.

I think I am ready for this new chapter in my life.