My father - the psychopath

It has taken me some days to actually swallow and get over the fact that my father is a stupid asshole. I have always known that but I have had some hope that he would somehow change, that he would grow up. Because that's what he is: an immature, agressive, bullying, self-centered teenager. I haven't written that much about my father in this blog (yet) because I really haven't dealt with the huge influence he has had on my life, in a really negative sense. He destroyed my childhood. He destroyed my sister's childhood. He is the one that created my anxiety. He is the one that has sucked the self-esteem and self-worth out of me. I only began to realize that I'm worth something when I moved to Sweden, away from him and his demands. He is the reason why I tried to commit suicide when I was five years old. He is one of the reasons for my PTSD and the flashbacks I'm having. He is the reason why I don't go back to Germany to visit my friends and family. The anxiety gets too much. I can't stand being in my childhood-home.

Let me give you a short description of my father. He was born in the early 1940s in Iran and moved to Germany in the early 1960s to study at university. He never finished his studies but instead started working as a bodyguard for stars like Jimmi Hendrix and as a bouncer in some really famous clubs. He met my mum, they got together and after 10 years they got married. He is 13 years older than her.

 He is a really mean and self-centered person. He beat the shit out of us when we were children (well, my brother got spared because he was the "boy" and welll, boys are worth more than girls in his Iranian mind). He is kind of stuck in some old school Iranian values. But I must say I'm glad that he never forced his religion onto us. He is a muslim but not a practicing one. I have never seen him pray. It's weird because his brothers who still live in Iran are very open-minded and love their families unconditionally. You are never allowed to say what you really think in his company. That's where he and I always clashed. I say what I think. And I'm educated while he is stuck in his own little world in his head. So I know a lot more things than him.

 He is a really materialistic person. For him it's always about money. He doesn't like to give any of his children money. We were basically always the ones with the cheap clothes and never had any money for anything. Whilst he owns a huge Mercedes Benz and spends his money on drugs. But his still living in the delusion that he paid everything for us, that he supported, that he gave us all the materialistic things that we wanted. That's bullshit, we never got anything! I had to start working an extra-job when I was 14 so I could go to the movies, so that I could go on class-trips, so that I could buy the odd CD every now and then.

I think my father is a psychopath. He is really bad with animals, he beats dogs, kicks cats. He never shows any sympathy and has never been empathetic. The only time I saw him cry was when he had heard that his mother had died. For him a lot is about status and how others see him as a man. I always got to hear how ashamed he is of me because I'm a) overweight b)goth and c) I never shut up and I have my own opinions. The most important thing for him is how others see him, he wants to seems like a respected man. That makes him really shallow. He has never, not even once, told me that he loved me or that he is proud of me.

 My father is a drug addict. He has been smoking opium for almost 30 years now(he started when I was a baby!!). I somewhat always knew that but I first really got to know some years ago when my cousin and I discussed the matter. I think a lot of the agression and inhostility in him comes from the drugs. He has basically lived through my childhood in a daze. Drugs and being high is even less an excuse than being a mean child-abuser. 

He treats and has always treated my mum with disrespect. I have seen him beating her up tons of times. I have seen him smash her on the head with a frying pan. I have seen him throw things at her. While he was in his drug-daze she had to work full-time and raise three kids. But he still says that he worked his ass off for us. Hell no. He was at work in the evenings (my parents owned a restaurant and later a shop), closing the store. That's all. He spent lots of money on his stupid opium instead of doing something nice for the family.

He thinks that a man should be respected. He thinks that my family should be grateful for him paying everything for us. He thinks that he is an angel and we are all just disrespectful liars. He tries to diminish the beatings, the absence of love and the hatred he had towards us. He calls it a slap in the face, motivation and tough love.

So now you know a bit about my father. I have written all this to give you a background to what I'm about to tell you now. My mum and dad are getting a divorce ( I have already written about this). My father announced that he wants a divorce and that my mum is supposed to move out. Although the house is her family's house, her parents got it from the state after WW2. But my mum just didn't want to fight and she is kind of scared of my father. My mother moved out a week ago and it all turned into chaos. He was there the entire time while she and a friend tried to carry out things from the house. Although he had promised to let them be. He denied my mother to take certain things. He called her a whore. He acted really aggressively. And it all culminated when he threw a cup of hot tea at my mum's friend. The police was called and my mother was able to at least get a few things with her. My mum loves her new apartment. But she is afraid to go out, she is afraid that he would be around the corner, she is afraid that he will kill her. I just hope that things will calm down, they don't see each other right now which is good.

The day before my sister and my mum were at the house to fetch some things and he called my sister a whore, told her that she isn't his daughter anymore. My sister is the one that got beaten up the most of the two of us. She is smoking weed daily to deal with her anxiety. She is too proud to look for help. She has been on a sick leave for depression twice though. She has always tried to keep the relationship with our dad alive. But that day she just cracked. My mum later told me that she had been weeping, crying, screaming. I haven't spoken to my sister. I know her, she will be somewhere, travelling, on the beach, with friends, high, trying to distract herself. And keep it all bottled up. We have only twice in our adult-lives talked about our childhood. We have the same feelings around it all. She also has real difficulties to be in that house and around him. I just can't believe that he is making things her fault, that he is mad at her for helping my mother. I can't believe that my father in no way realizes that he is guilty, that he is at fault, that we all don't respect him, that we are afraid of him instead. I would really love to call my sister (we have had our differences, she has bullied me all my life, even beat me up while we were sharing a flat and I don't really respect her drug-abuse) and just tell her to stand up for herself. To not creep back to him. Just because someone is your biological father doesn't mean you have to be there for him. But I'm sure she is already in touch with him again. I hate to see her crawl for him. 

Another thing: I'm getting married in about two and a half weeks. I'm not having a wedding, I haven't invited anyone. But my father is paranoid and suspicious and thinks that everyone is invited but him. I don't want to call him to convince him otherwise. I don't have the strength for a discussion with him which will only result in him hurting me and calling me names. My grandmother, his mother, has given two very beautiful necklaces (which belonged to her mother) to my mother. My sister and I are supposed to get those necklaces when we are getting married. I have only met my Iranian grandmother once and I felt an instant connection with her. She was a writer, an artist, she loved music. She had led a difficult life as she was forced to marry a 30 years older man when she was 11 years old! But throughout her life she has been strong and just kept going and always found time for the things she loved. Everyone from my Iranian family who knows me tells me that I'm a lot like her. We share the same talents and we have the same ability to express ourselves with words. She died in the middle of the 90s. So she gave those necklaces to my mother and I have the moment in my head, I remember the exact words that were spoken, I remember the warmth in her eyes and her long grey hair. I remember it all. So, my mum wanted to take the necklace with her so she could give it to me next week (she'll come to visit me). But my dad took it from her, accusing her of wanting to steal and sell it. What the fuck? He said that the necklace is from HIS mother and that HE wants to give it to me. But the necklaces were given to my mum? And she will see me in person before my wedding! I have no plans in visiting my hometown any time soon. And I'm not even sure if I want to meet my father ever again. I won't contact him. If he calls, I'll answer. That's my decision. We haven't really spoken in years anyway, only through my mum or involuntarily when he picked up the phone when I wanted to speak to my mum. I'm really upset about this! It's not about the necklace being exclusive of expensive. It is about the necklace coming from my grandmother, the only thing I actually have of her. She has intended it to be mine at my wedding. So what the fuck? How can he be so selfish? I don't care about him giving it to me, I find that gesture to be a lie! I know that my mother was handed those necklaces anyway, I was there! I'm so upset about this!

So during  the last few days I have been trying to avoid thinking about my family, despite the fact that I was skyping with my mother every day and she kept telling me the latest news. But it's not working. All the hatred, all the anxiety and fear, have eaten me up. Honestly, I want my father to die. I know that it won't help me with my PTSD but at least I won't have to have any new bad and anxious memories connected to him. He is over 70 years old, he is a mean drug-addict. He should just drop dead. I know that's a mean thing to say. I don't want him to get killed and I don't want to kill him. I just think that enough is enough. He has used up his reasons to be alive. He should just stop torturing us. I don't care if I sound like a mean and resentful bitch. I used to be indifferent about my childhood, about his involvement. I think that was a defense mechanism. Now all my real feelings come up. And again, I don't want to hear how forgiveness can make me feel better, or to find a meaning in it all. There is no determinism, there is no meaning in anything. I'm not religious or spiritual. I'm atheist and logical. I don't want to forgive him. I just want it all to be over. I want to him to stop exisiting so he doesn't destroy our lives even more.