OmbreMad has moved on Nostr: My father doesn't like me. He probably never has. And I have to live with that ...

My father doesn't like me. He probably never has. And I have to live with that feeling until the end of time.

That’s the harsh conclusion to a long unfolding family story that I don’t want to dive too much into, but I still want to talk about it for a bit. Because, as winter holidays are still wildly seen as the « family holidays », I feel like getting this off my chest. I also want other people to know that they’re not alone in this situation.

My mother died 8 years ago from a returning cancer, all while being in a 3-year-long recovery from an intracerebral hemorrhagic stroke — that left her suffering from hemiplegia, heavily impaired motor skills and speech, and light occasional psychosis, amongst other consequences. My grandparents from my mother’s side died a few years after that, and with no trace of an existing family from my father’s side, it means I’m left with only one aunt, one uncle and his wife, two cousins, my sister, and my father.

I’ve never been close to anyone in this very small family, except for my sister, and really only for the last couple of years. I wasn’t exactly easygoing or even likeable as a person before my thirties, and it’s still hard to admit it to this day. But I worked hard to become a better person, and to feel more at home in my own life and my own body. Transitioning was part of that process. My sister welcomed me as a woman, as the sister she never previously had. I thus welcome her in my life with all my love, as well as I welcome her daughter as my niece and goddaughter, her partner as my brother-in-law, and his two sons as my nephews.

I also live with my nesting partner, whom I loved very dearly so and is fully accepted as being a part of that family. I do hope that I will be able to introduce all of this newly-founded family to my other significant ones. Unfortunately, unlike my transidentity, me being polyamorous is still a bit of a touchy topic sometimes, but I still have good hopes to get there eventually. Conversely, I also like to think about my other partner’s families (metamours, children) as my own, and I also want to further those bonds.

Why am I telling you all of this? Because I’m slowly building a new sense of family, and I’m now starting to realize how fulfilling it is in my life. But I also know that my father does not get to play a part in this picture. And no one is to blame but him.

As far as I can remember, my father was a wife-beater. In my earliest childhood memories, I picture him throwing stuff at my mom, like shoes or plates. When he was drunk (that was pretty much every evening), he hit her really hard. At the worst point (I might have been around 10), I remember he was strangling her with both hands against a piece of furniture. He stopped because I immediately ran to ring at our kind-of-friendly-neighbour’s door and called for help — the neighbour came, stopped him, and told him if that happened again, he would call the police. My father was so enraged, he didn’t even notice me running away or the neighbour coming. He stopped out of shame because he didn’t expect someone outside the house to ever see him for what he truly was — a wife-beater lying piece of shit. I still think he could’ve killed my mother that night if he hadn’t been prevented from doing so.

(part 1 of 3)