The Trap

I never take my father's word at face value.  His mind is going, but he still has the presence of mind to play games.  He likes to use the bait and trap method.

So, when I see that he tried to call me, and I can't decipher his message, I feel sucked back into the dark adolescent cave of my childhood, where I can be hurt, and no one can really save me.  Even my sisters can't fully understand my fear of my dad, because they two have their own unique experiences with him.  He knew how to fuck with each of the three of us in a specific attentive way.  So, I can't say that I was ignored as a child.  No matter how hard I tried to disappear into my bed, the closet, the backyard...

So, this couple who are cousins on my dad's side go to visit my dad once a month when possible.  They live in Ocala, so it's not a hop, skip or a jump to Lakeland.  And, they are not the springiest of chickens, so, it's quite a tiring day for them.  They went to visit him today.  They got there around noon.  They knocked on the door, and no answer.  They waited.  And waited.  no answer.

My dad is deaf.  He had a cochlear implant many years ago, and his transmitter doesn't work anymore. When my mom's friend told him she would schedule an appointment with the place that makes adjustments, he told her he was going to work on it himself.  Not a good idea.

So, my dad, who lives alone, didn't answer the door at 12 o'clock in the afternoon.  After a while, they called my mom's friend and asked her if she had a key.  She doesn't.  So, they called my dad's attorney and asked advice, and they called a locksmith.  I guess my dad woke up before they had to bust in with the locksmith.

Only someone paranoid and in a declining state of dementia like my dad would  a) live alone at his age and state of mind, when he can afford to pay someone  b) not give anyone a spare key in case of emergency   c) not pay the one person who regularly checks on him about once a week and helps him run errands.

But the only way to change this is with deceptive measures, or force.  Someone or some situation needs to lure him into having a psychiatric evaluation.  Or someone needs to file a court order to declare him incompetent or incapable of taking care of himself.  But who is going to pull the trigger?  And what happens if he somehow squeezes by and is allowed to continue on his own?  It seems impossible, but he can play the game.

If any one of us, me and my sisters, were to file a guardianship proceeding, that would be an unforgivable act.  Not that he doesn't already have grudges against each of us that he holds, or imaginary or twisted grudges against some way we have each wronged him.  But, this, trying to help him, would be viewed as the ultimate act of betrayal, a money grab.  His biggest fear is having someone take it all away.  His biggest fear may become reality if he won't let anyone help him.

I don't even think about this money as my rightful inheritance.  This is in a sense, blood money.  This was accumulated through the emotional degradation of my mom.  Anyway, who sits around waiting for their lone surviving parent to die so they can reap rewards?  That's not how it works.  If my dad doesn't somehow let someone manage his finances, or he isn't ordered to do so, there may not be any inheritance left anyway.

So, my dad asked his cousin to call me.  He wanted her to tell me to come see him, so he could tell me about his properties in the Philippines.  He has told me this before.  He has told me how he needs to tell us about his entire estate.  But he never tells us.  So, I don't know if this is the real reason behind his wanting me to visit, or if there is more to it.  There's always more to it.

Mystery Phone Call

It's so difficult to hear my phone ring and see it say "Mom".  Because for one, it's not my mom calling.  She's dead.  She can only speak to me in dreams now.  And for two, it's my dad.  Maybe I'm an awful daughter.  I haven't contacted him since this summer.

So, he left an unintelligible message.  I couldn't understand it at all.  He was yelling too close to the mouthpiece of the phone.  Maybe he wasn't yelling, maybe it was his regular phone voice.  But it was spooky.

I didn't call back.  I just couldn't.  I'm such a hypocrite.  I watch people in movies and TV shows - in fictional scenarios - and I think, just do it - just call him back and get it over with and feel relief.  But, I just can't.  I want my mommy.  I want someone to hold my hand and lead me through it, to protect me. But there is no one.  And my mom tried to shield me for way too long.  That definitely wore on her health - protecting others from the wrath of my father.

You know, I've read those two books about dealing with a person with BPD.  They helped a lot.  They were a revelation.  But, does my knowledge make it any easier to deal with this man who... terrorized me as a child, kept me from coming home too often or for too long in college, and didn't motivate me to save money or take time off from work to go home for the holidays.

I know that in essence he can't physically hurt me.  He can't financially hurt me either.  I mean, if he were to exclude me from his will, it wouldn't really be that big of a deal - I always figured as a kid that he would disown me one day.  Maybe because that was always his big threat - disowning us.  But, did he ever really "own" us?  I mean, you don't own your kids.  You don't even truly own pets.  Sure, my dad payed for me, gave me a roof over my head (even though it fell on me at a young age), fed me, clothed me, sent me to school, and helped me out later when I needed money.  But, so did my mom, moreso than my dad.

It's gotta be a bad feeling to think one has ungrateful children.  I'm not ungrateful, I just am emotionally vulnerable.  The longer the gap between communication with my dad, the harder it is to make that connection.

You may notice, that I haven't written on this blog much in the past several months.  I just haven't had anything useful, soul baring, or even meaningful to write on the topic.

But now, here I sit, writing this blog, instead of returning the phone call.  I know I need to, but I don't know if there's enough alcohol in the world to make this phone call easier.

Lies

When I was in high school, college and after, I had secrets.  I had to lie to my parents.  I had this other part of my life that I couldn't let them in on, that they would not want to know, and that they would just get mad over if they found out.

Here I am again - midlife, with secrets again.  I don't communicate with my dad, so I haven't lied to him yet.  Although when I do see him next, I most likely will have to lie.  Luckily, or unfortunately, my mom taught me how to bend the truth if that was all that was needed, and to lie when necessary.

I get anxious just thinking about the fact that I need to at some point communicate with my dad after all these months of silence.  Every time I think about it.  I can't not communicate with him at all.  But I feel nervous, when I think about seeing him again.  I feel sad, scared, angry, helpless, self doubting, ungrateful, just terrible, really.

But, I can't avoid him forever.  What kind of daughter would I be?