Little Fire

Tolerating the Intolerable

Posted by Boo , Saturday, April 16, 2011 6:14 PM

I look at this picture and see a powerful wall of killing weather, which it is, kind of, if only symbolically. It is a a picture of my arm after an attack perpetrated by a man who loved me; a man I loved. How does a girl grow into a woman who loves and loves and loves a man who hurts and hurts and hurts her.

Habit.

I am going to transcribe a series of text messages I received from my baby brother this week. He and his wife (referred to as A) moved to my tiny, isolated hometown with no other aim than to help my ill and aging father. My father is a mean old bastard. He was a mean young bastard. I am grieving for the brother to whom I am in many ways a mother. I should not have let him go. Here is our conversation. Enjoy.

Bro: Just letting you know, Dad left the house after asking A and me to look for his wallet. He went to the (store) and bought a 750 ml bottle of LTD whiskey. He drank 3/4 of a bottle through the night, threatened to kill me and A various times, went outside and peed in the yard a couple of times and peed his pants. We stayed away from him and A found him naked sleeping on a bare mattress. We can't stop him and when I told him about how he was he said we could kiss his balls. I am really upset, Boo, Dad was never like this. Grandma, Grandpa and mom would be very upset if they saw him like this. He told me last night that if mom had ever spoken to him the way A talks to him, (mom) would be "bleeding in a corner crying."

Me: He's always been like this, just not to you. It's worse because he's been alone for years. But it's just him, magnified by age and loneliness. Call (cousin) and tell her what's going on. Or (cousin). (Cousin) can help. Be honest with her.

Bro: I've have already been in contact with (cousin) through (cousin). They say remove all of the guns while he is sleeping and I'm doing it tonight. He talks to himself when he's drunk and he refuses to bathe.

Me: He has knives, too.

Bro: All I found was the big knife.

Me: Please be safe. Lock your door at night. Why do you think I slept with a knife under my pillow in high school? He threatened to kill me and/or himself many times.

Bro: I didn't think it would affect me like it has.

Me: He's probably schizophrenic and so was gram. He deserves our pity, but not much else. Don't engage him.

Bro: I won't. I stay away from him and I have not have one drink with him. I try to discourage him. He's so mean to me. I'm remembering so much of his cruelty.

Me: That's actually good, baby. It doesn't feel good, but it is good.

So that's my dad.

The fact the he is probably a schizophrenic gives me pause. He needs help. Mental illness is sucking quicksand, and it's not his fault. However, he refuses help and has brutalized everyone who has tried to love him for decades.

I spent every waking moment from the time I was aware there was a person on Earth who wasn't my mother trying to win this man's love. I spent untold sleepless nights trying to understand him so I could forgive him for his most recent cruelty. Why? So I could love him again. So I could get back on the full-time job of trying to get his attention; struggling to get him to love me like a father should.

I learned to accept the unacceptable, tolerate the intolerable, and see beauty in people who abuse.

That's how girl grows into a woman who loves and loves and loves men who hurt and hurt and hurt her.

Thanks, dad.

I don't love you anymore.