My father in law. Who also displays signs of Borderline Personality Disorder. I might have discussed him previously, but this is fresh on my mind, and I need to vent.
I have chronic insomnia. If I have anything stressful going on in my life, then I will probably have trouble sleeping at least a couple nights of the week. I also have always been prone to staying up late, so some nights I sleep 5 hours. Which isn't enough for me. Even if I'm jobless.
Last night, my husband was already soundly snoring on the couch at 10 pm. I was flipping channels, and I stopped at MSNBC. There were back to back documentaries about sex slaves. Now, I knew that this was not the kind of programming I should be watching late at night. But unfortunately, most of the interesting shows that are on late at night are the kind of shows I shouldn't watch before bedtime.
One documentary was just ending. It was about a caucasian girl in the suburbs, who was being coerced into prostitution. When she talked with an investigator, the men who were exploiting her kidnapped her dog. So, she didn't talk about her painful secret for years.
The next one was about a Vietnamese girl named Minh. Her family moved to the United States when she was young. Her father raped her and prostituted her, while her mother watched and let it happen. When Minh started going through puberty, her mother became jealous of her. When Minh's father raped Minh, instead of having sex with his wife, Minh's mother became jealous, yet she did nothing to stop it. Instead, she started selling her only daughter for sex, in order to save money and divorce her husband. Minh was always an overachiever in school, so later, when she told her story, people who had known her as a child were shocked.
The purpose of the series is to inform the public that this can be happening everywhere. Any brothel, massage parlor, acupuncture clinic, or escort service could be guilty of holding women against their will for prostitution.
What does this have to do with my father in law? He is a frequent buyer of prostitutes. Along with his addiction to prescription drugs, he also is addicted to sex. It came out this summer that he had been spending a fortune on prostitutes for at least 40 years. That's all of my husband's life.
You know, I know in some areas prostitution is legal. I know some women enter into this profession willingly for their own reasons. I know in some cases, it's a perfectly legal business transaction.
I don't know how many times my father-in-law has had sex for money, but it's a lot. And out of all those prostitutes, the chances of one of them being underage has got to be pretty high. Also, out of all those prostitutes, the chances of one of them being a sex slave is also pretty high. If he had known either of these things, would he have still gone ahead with... fulfilling his... needs? I think yes.
Of course, I do not know. I can only guess based on what I know of his character. I've never been fond of the man. He is a chauvinist and a misogynist. I have witnessed him treating female servers like ignorant lesser beings several times. It makes more sense, knowing he thinks of young women and girls as wet holes to be bought and sold for his penile pleasure.
My sister-in-law and mother-in-law were going through his records after the beans were spilled. He spent $15,000 in one month on three different prostitutes. All the while, being late on bills, or simply not paying them at all. Allegedly, his latest "girlfriend" was an acquisition. The story is that he had to bid on her, like a geisha, for the exclusive relationship with her. He bought her a 600 series BMW, and he put her in a posh NoHo apartment, along with whatever cash he gave her. Maybe those were all consensual agreements by legal adults.
However, he works for a company based in South Korea. Asia. Part of the world known for prostitution of young children. I'm sure he's hired a prostitute there. If he has, the chances of him having engaged in sexual intercourse with an underage South Korean sex slave are almost certain. I don't even know if there are "of age" prostitutes in South Korea. Or for that matter, I don't know what the age of consent is. Here is a disturbing blog about the age of consent in S Korea: http://thegrandnarrative.com/2010/01/11/south-korea-age-of-consent/ .
Regardless of what the legal age is, or if there really is one, the point still stands, there is a natural and moral legal age of consent. If a girl is not fully developed, whether or not there are laws, it's not right for any man to have sexual relations with her. If a girl is kidnapped or sold into sexual slavery, it's coercive sex. And just because a girl does not literally say no does not mean that she is consenting. Coercion is the same as forcible rape. I don't really mean to get into technical terms. My point is, paying to have sex with an underage minor against her will is a terrible crime, and what kind of person would do this?
How can I ever face this father-in-law of mine again? I don't know if I can, because he's not my father, he's my husband's father. He is not my father to accuse.
I have not been raped, I have never been sold for sex, I have never been coerced into sexual favors. But this still hits home because of the emotional abuse factor. Emotional abuse is the worst kind to me. I've seen too many people suffer from this invisible form of abuse. It's a scar that for some people never heals. I've seen intelligent otherwise clear thinking individuals victimized and rendered helpless by emotional abuse.
I don't want to be a silent witness anymore. I researched domestic abuse help organizations, and I found this local place: http://www.womenindistress.org/childrens.html Women In Distress of Broward County. I signed up for email notices. Hopefully I can volunteer and do something meaningful with this organization. Maybe this could be something to help fill the void my mom left.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
I can't make everyone happy
Here I am. Friday night 10:37pm, in bed writing a blog. I've had a nasty cold (or flu) for a week now, and hopefully (fingers crossed) I will be functional by tomorrow. I took a dose and a half of Nyquil, since I've developed a tolerance to the stuff. Hopefully, it will kick in when I'm done with this though.
My husband is holed up in his studio (man cave). He was seemingly angsty today, and after enough alcohol, he decided to take out the guitar amp and play guitar. Sounds harmless enough. Sure, it was quarter to ten, so not too too late. But as soon as he fired it up and started playing, the dogs next door went haywire, and the cats ran and hid. It was loud. No way I could watch TV, although there was nothing on anyway. I went out front to check how loud it was. Pretty loud. I went out back to check. Even louder.
After a while, I had to go in and tell him to turn it down. Which I dreaded. As expected, here I come to lay down the law. I never allow anyone to have fun. So, I tried to explain that he just needed to turn it down. I don't know how loud he had it. It echoed all over the house, so there's no telling. That amp is really loud, so even 2 is plenty loud for a club He turned it down to 1 and a half, and it was still loud. It was still pretty loud and clear on the neighbor's side. I started shutting all the doors, to maybe lessen the echo effect. And then I looked for the cats. The Fuzz was under the bed, but Stinksy was nowhere to be found. Not in the closet or on the couch. So, then I had to go back into the studio to look for him in his favorite closet to hide in. Not there. Of course, we got into an altercation. I was telling my husband it was still loud, and of course he was saying how it didn't seem loud at all to him. But at that point, I was worried about Stinksy. Maybe in my going in and out of the house he had followed me out but not back in. Then I found him. In the utility room cowering next to the hot water heater. Bad place to hide. I got him out, anyway.
And my husband and I have not talked since. He went outside to smoke, and I came in the bedroom. When he came back in the house, straight to the man cave. Hopefully, this won't be a ritual for us.
I feel like shit right now. I'm literally sick. And I'm tired of feeling guilty. I dragged him here. He didn't want to move, didn't want to leave his job, didn't want to leave his friends, didn't want to leave his band. I couldn't live the way we were living though. I couldn't. So, now, he hates our life. He can't stand being cooped up in the house. I don't like it either, but I can't complain about it, because then he will ask me why I dragged him here. Plus, I've been cooped up in an apartment so long previously, that this is way better We just need jobs. Then we can meet people and be a part of society and have money to go out.
But also, I have something way bigger, or actually smaller, weighing over my head. My dad. He has summoned me to Lakeland. He tried to call me and left a voicemail and I could not understand anything he said, except for "okay" when he paused to end the voicemail message. So, a week later, a cousin and our family friend both called me to tell me that he wanted me to come see him. His reason was that he wants me to know about the properties he owns in the Philippines. The ulterior motive, I'm not sure of.
Regardless, I have to go. I have to go check on him. I have to see what kind of conditions he is living in. I have to see what his mental state is. I have to hear what he has to say, whether or not it makes sense, and I have to help him go all over town and run errands and embarrass me.
Obviously, at this point in time, I don't think I can drag my husband there. He's so miserable, I can't share this burden with him. It's not his burden to deal with anyway. He has his own family problems that he needs to deal with, anyway.
I'm terrified. I can't imagine facing this man again, and having to interact with him as if he's a totally sane person. He's not. I don't think he ever was. He was at some point functioning, but I don't think he really is now. He just stays in that house and reads his old papers. He has no TV, no internet, he doesn't even get the paper. I don't know where he gets any kind of new of the outside world from.
I think his primary objective is to somehow get to the Philippines. Maybe he is devising a way to make me take him? I really don't know. I can't imagine him being capable of traveling there. I can't imagine him managing his affairs there, if he can't even do it here.
I don't know if I can do it alone. I may have to though.
My husband is holed up in his studio (man cave). He was seemingly angsty today, and after enough alcohol, he decided to take out the guitar amp and play guitar. Sounds harmless enough. Sure, it was quarter to ten, so not too too late. But as soon as he fired it up and started playing, the dogs next door went haywire, and the cats ran and hid. It was loud. No way I could watch TV, although there was nothing on anyway. I went out front to check how loud it was. Pretty loud. I went out back to check. Even louder.
After a while, I had to go in and tell him to turn it down. Which I dreaded. As expected, here I come to lay down the law. I never allow anyone to have fun. So, I tried to explain that he just needed to turn it down. I don't know how loud he had it. It echoed all over the house, so there's no telling. That amp is really loud, so even 2 is plenty loud for a club He turned it down to 1 and a half, and it was still loud. It was still pretty loud and clear on the neighbor's side. I started shutting all the doors, to maybe lessen the echo effect. And then I looked for the cats. The Fuzz was under the bed, but Stinksy was nowhere to be found. Not in the closet or on the couch. So, then I had to go back into the studio to look for him in his favorite closet to hide in. Not there. Of course, we got into an altercation. I was telling my husband it was still loud, and of course he was saying how it didn't seem loud at all to him. But at that point, I was worried about Stinksy. Maybe in my going in and out of the house he had followed me out but not back in. Then I found him. In the utility room cowering next to the hot water heater. Bad place to hide. I got him out, anyway.
And my husband and I have not talked since. He went outside to smoke, and I came in the bedroom. When he came back in the house, straight to the man cave. Hopefully, this won't be a ritual for us.
I feel like shit right now. I'm literally sick. And I'm tired of feeling guilty. I dragged him here. He didn't want to move, didn't want to leave his job, didn't want to leave his friends, didn't want to leave his band. I couldn't live the way we were living though. I couldn't. So, now, he hates our life. He can't stand being cooped up in the house. I don't like it either, but I can't complain about it, because then he will ask me why I dragged him here. Plus, I've been cooped up in an apartment so long previously, that this is way better We just need jobs. Then we can meet people and be a part of society and have money to go out.
But also, I have something way bigger, or actually smaller, weighing over my head. My dad. He has summoned me to Lakeland. He tried to call me and left a voicemail and I could not understand anything he said, except for "okay" when he paused to end the voicemail message. So, a week later, a cousin and our family friend both called me to tell me that he wanted me to come see him. His reason was that he wants me to know about the properties he owns in the Philippines. The ulterior motive, I'm not sure of.
Regardless, I have to go. I have to go check on him. I have to see what kind of conditions he is living in. I have to see what his mental state is. I have to hear what he has to say, whether or not it makes sense, and I have to help him go all over town and run errands and embarrass me.
Obviously, at this point in time, I don't think I can drag my husband there. He's so miserable, I can't share this burden with him. It's not his burden to deal with anyway. He has his own family problems that he needs to deal with, anyway.
I'm terrified. I can't imagine facing this man again, and having to interact with him as if he's a totally sane person. He's not. I don't think he ever was. He was at some point functioning, but I don't think he really is now. He just stays in that house and reads his old papers. He has no TV, no internet, he doesn't even get the paper. I don't know where he gets any kind of new of the outside world from.
I think his primary objective is to somehow get to the Philippines. Maybe he is devising a way to make me take him? I really don't know. I can't imagine him being capable of traveling there. I can't imagine him managing his affairs there, if he can't even do it here.
I don't know if I can do it alone. I may have to though.
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