Let’s clear some things up…I’m not upset about what my brother did…it’s not his fault that he clearly took after my father completely! His punishment is that I will not be in his life or in the lives of his family. I know it suck for me…but sometimes we have to make sacrifices. I’m not even upset about what my father did…I never liked money…as much as we need it to survive…I have always hated what it does to people.
But let’s first circle back…do you remember “that guy”? (The one who now has two kittens…) Well, we had a long intense conversation last night…himself suffering (obviously) from Mommy issues and I even suspect his own brand of daddy issues…except his perspective was totally different. Coming from that dark place called childhood…when we weren’t sure if the parents we had were authentic…did they really love us…was it for the “right” reasons…etc., etc. His perspective is different because he was never lied to. He was never told that the parent in question was great…he just might not see it…he was never made to imagine that this parent was the best at performing that job that none of us are really ever trained in…you know what it’s called…Parenthood! But instead, he was allowed to form his own opinion based on what happened. No one ever hid anything from him.
I still find moments when I am still angry…angry about what happened…angry that both my father and my brother have essentially gotten away with their betrayal of me. I never knew my father until I found out, first what he did to me, then what he had done to my mother around the time that I was only 25 years. It was at that moment when he was exposed to me…when I finally heard the WHOLE story…what happened when my older brother was born…what happened after my mother inherited her house from my Grandfather…where was my father all those nights he never came…before I was born?!?!
Wow, how did I not know what type of man he was? I had never judged him…my parents never fought…he got up and “went to work” all day and came home for dinner and had a life pretty separate from mine and my family’s…even though we all lived in the same tiny apartment in Brooklyn. I look back at the opportunities he had been given to steal from me…the doors I had left open, the trust I had in him to care for my money…and I say to myself…well had I known what a piece of shit he was…how he had actually been to mother for all those years before I was born and she had just shut down emotionally…I would have NEVER trusted him with my money…Dah!
So did I care about the money? I never bought anything with it…it was meant to be a nest egg for me…should I one day want to have a wedding, buy a house or put a child through school. I was not engaged, didn’t have my eye on a house at the moment and was never gifted with a child…so no, I didn’t care about the money. What I did care about was that feeling of my never having known that man who had shared a house with us! No one had ever told me anything. It was not until after my mother died when suddenly everyone came out of the wood work to explain to me how they had never trusted my father because…this had happened…or that. Things I had NEVER known about.
Now, a million years later…I look at how both my father and my brother are still allowed to exist in our world. They were never shunned by anyone because of their actions…never stoned in the street…never confronted by anyone except maybe me…making me out to be a raving lunatic. And many people who are close to my father (ex. friends, business partners, associates, family, etc.) were never told about what he had done. No one received a memo listing the faults he performed first against my mother and then against me. And anyone who knows my brother also knows that there we have a man lives completely without conscience…while I want to say that my father must have felt bad at least for a minute.
So just to clarify my angst and upset coming out of yesterday’s blog…it’s not the money that I care about…I don’t feel for a second that I will ever become like either of them…I’ve gotten over the loss of whatever it was that they took from me whether that have been a material item like money…or just the relationship that I felt I deserved to have had, first with my father and then with my brother. I was robbed of being able to feel as though no matter what happened to me in life, those two men would be there to help me…advise me…support me.
But I guess in order to fix a problem, we fist need to recognize what it is. And maybe now is the first time that I have been able to do exactly that. Maybe now is when I start winning…