The being called my father

This is inspired by you Fideli, and one of the toughest, self honest posts I have ever read. Thank you so much for sharing your process with us!! ( http://www.mydeadmum.blogspot.com/ )

I always for as long as I can remember hated my father.
He didn´t have any education, just took whatever job he could find and married my mother when they were both mid to late teens because she was pregnant.
In those day you did not get children without being married - God- what a sin that was. "What would people say?"
So, we all got off on a bad start I suppose. Poor as hell, they had three kids, wherea´s I'm the oldest.

I have to struggle to remember any affection from my father. He simply was not the kinda guy to show any feelings, more then his anger and rage, which was always very evident and always just below "the surface". So I was always terrified of him, and hated him for it all my life.

I have very specific memories of his beatings, his screaming, shouting, totally irrational behaviour, his drinking. He was a total and utter phsycopath who lost all control when he got angry. Add to that a very very short fuse.
And the memories I have are not always directed towards me per se, but towards the family as a whole, and in particular one of my brothers.

Since he could never hold a job for any length of time, god knows why, i suppose he ended up in some sort of dispute cause of the person he was, and then probaly got sacked, partly to do with the boozing as well. But as a result, there was never any money. Although I can't recall ever being hungry (much thanks to mums creativity), she has told me that we used to have nothing but sugar to have on bread, and most of our meals when young consisted of flower and milk conjured in different ways.

So thanks to my father we moved a lot. Never stayed long enough to make any friends, so was never rooted anywhere, and still very much the same all my life. I´d get restless, never had an interest in making any friends, cause I knew I had to leave them anyway soon. Not a very stable, safe and secure home.
My mother provided all the love, the stability. Without her, ive no idea if id be alive today.

There are some very specific memories that I have spoken to very few people about. it´s just not the sort o thing you bring up at the dinner table, and you have to feel you are among people who can take it, who will believe you (cause that has always been whats stopped me aswell, Im aware that some of what happened sounded pretty unbelievable for someone who had a "normal" family, so i never bothered) and who are strong and stable enough to hear.

I remember once my brother, who always got into trouble and always got beaten half to death for it, somehow had come home with a gun. yes, a real gun. This was back in the 70's in Sweden, you know, you simply never saw that sort of thing. And my father came home from work, and found out about this.
We lived on the seventh floor in this suburb to Gothenburg. I dunno, my brother can´t have been more than 9-10 at the time.
Ofcourse my father got furious, and in the anger of making my brother talk, and tell the truth, he opened the kitchen window, and held my brother in the air seven floors up threatening to let go unless he spoke.
I remember the terror like it was yesterday, and I can still picture it vividly. And I swear, at that moment, (I am two years older than this brother) I wanted to kill my father. I can´t tell you the horror I experienced. And how helpless I felt. And how I desperatly wanted to help my brother but simply could not.
All the time my father was shouting: answer me you son of a bitch, answer or I´ll fucking kill you, I´ll drop you. COM ON TELL ME!!!!!! Twisted face, spit flying about from is mouth..

Another very vivid memory is us three children having been just put to bed. We´re very young, this is pre Gothenburg and I dunno, perhaps I was around 7, six or seven.
We´re all in the top room, almost like the attic, and it is dark. And ofcourse, three kids together, we got a little bit giddy, and laughed a little, normal stuff like kids do. Then all of a sudden we hear his steps on the stairs and he´s shouting, : What the fuck is this all about?? I told you to go to sleep god damn it!! And he´s booming into the room. The fear I cannot describe, you are just paralyzed and you know you will get punished. So he forces us all to drop our pants. I remember vividly how embarassed i felt to be in front of my brothers being naked below, and he made us lie on the beds and started hitting us. I dont know, if the worse bit of that is the memory of it, that never ever fades, and that brings up the exact same emotions as then. That is the REAL punishment. I dunno - I´ve cried enough I feel, but still it is back to square on now. And I realize, that I have to stop it now. I have to get it out, and then forgive him and me.

The number of times my brother got the brunt of his anger, I have lost count. But it amazes me that my brother is still around! He could have so easily be dead, beaten to death.
He would beat him so hard from a very young age. And the sad ting about it is that this brother adored my father, despite all he did to him. he looked up to him, and would go up and ask "daddy, can you play with me, or show me what you do to the car?" (he always fixed cars) but he would get angry, and give him a beating for disturbing him instead.
So my father was terror personified. The ultimate anger system walking on this planet earth.
I have no idea how we all survived. he could easily have killed us all of, in one of his rages, that is perfectly plausible.

Sometimes mum will tell me sitations that comes back to her that she has suppressed. How he tried to run her over with the car when pregnant with me. His beatings, jealousy.
We all always had to tip toe around him. I always secretly wished he would die, or just never come back home from work. But he always came - and noting ever changed.

Despite all of this, somewhere inside I also longed for him to just be nice. To love me. Because he always hated me, all of us that was clear. And i never understood why, what we had done to deserve that. So I grew up hating me, because clearly I must be horrible since this happened to me.



So, as an adult, I never had much contact. And then he got ill with cancer and died.
By that time I lived in the UK, and sent him a card. A one liner saying somet like, I´m sure you´ll make it. Bye... I didn´t want to send him anything, but felt I "had to" like you do.
I never went to see him. So he died there. And to be honest, that was the best thing he ever did.
I went to the funeral because one of my brothers asked me to, do it for me Marianne, so I did.

So yes, I´ve carried masses of guilt regarding all of this towards my brother. Because he got most of the beatings, he was always treated differently it seemed, and someow let out of the family. Somewhere i felt I had let him down, that I could have done more.


And I swore never to treat any of my cildren like he treated me. Noone deserves that from a parent. A child should be loved and cared for. So I tend perhaps to be a bit overprotective instead.

Now is the time to end all of this. To end the loop of my cildhood and all that that entailed:

I forgive myself that I have allowed myself to hate my father and wish the same fate he gave us upon him

I forgive myself that I have allowed and accepted myself to fear my father even in death

I forgive myself that I have allowed and accepted myself to look upon my father as the devil personified

I forgive myself that I have allowed and accepted myself to want to kill my father because of all the suffering he put upon us

I forgive myself that I have allowed and accepted myself to hope that he would endure the very ting that we had to endure and experience the fear we had to experience

I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to feel guilty towards my brother for not stopping my father when he beat him even though at the time there was nothing I could do

I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to somehow inside feel let down by my mother for not making him stop even though I know full well she feared the consequences just like I did

I forgive myself that I have allowed and accepted myself to not love me because I wasn't loved by my father

I forgive myself that I have allowed and accepted myself as not worthy to be loved or to experience love since my father never loved me

I forgive myself that I have allowed and accepted myself to not realise that my father was a system, that I, as all, have accepted and allowed to exist due to our separation from life, from who we really are in oneness and equality and hence systems like these are created

I forgive myself that I have allowed and accepted myself to fear all men due to my experience with my father and hence have an inbuilt protection just in case all men are the same

I forgive myself that I have allowed and accepted myself to think that I somehow deserved what I got from my father, that that was all I was worthy of, that it was my own fault

I forgive myself that I have allowed and accepted myself to separate me from my father, in that not realizing that we are all equal and one, and that my experiences are due to allowances we all have made, in not realizing who we really are, and wake up from this comatose existance we call life and realize ourselves

I forgive my father, because I realize that it was not my father as who he really is who did those things to us, that treated us that bad, but the systems, and the very essence of what we have have all in this existance accepted and allowed

Till here no further.
I do not accept my mind to conjure up memories and to live in the past with all the emotions, fear, regret, anger, guilt that that entails. That is not who I am.
I do not accept mind consciousness systems to have any control in my life or anyone elses life.
I am life. I control me. I am breath.
I realease all memories, picture, thoughts, feelings and emotions related to my father or any other being in my life.
I am here. I am free. I am me. I love me. I accept me. I am worthy - I am worth.
I am love. Eternal.