+294. Hahahaha ha … now this is truth … just ask my Father 😉
+294. Hahahaha ha … now this is truth … just ask my Father 😉
Bullet points on 😉
2. I don’t mind you hating me you got every right,
4. when it effects my mokos
5. to see your hatred towards me
6. it hurts them and thats not fair,
7. especially when they miss their mum,
8. you can do whatever you like to me,
9. this is the second time you have done it,
10. you are nearly fifty and you still have a chip on your shoulder that I can’t help
11. just for the record
12. i didn’t abandon you, your mother left me,
13. if you don’t want anymore contact thats fine by me
14. my mokos don’t want to come home to hatred like that
So, today started off well … got up … had a shit … turned on the Wifi … started brewing the coffee and revved up the laptop … just like any other day in beach paradise …
Until it wasn’t.
If you’ve skulked around my blog for awhile, you’d have read my whingey ‘I’ve got daddy issues’ posts … believe Me, theres a tonne of them … posts, that is lol.
What you’d also have figured out by now, is my blog is my ‘diary’ slash vent slash learning area slash finding my voice slash processing that shit … place.
And I process a lot.
And I have processed a shit load more when it’s come to my father. Part of this, I recognise now, is because I am completely unfamiliar with the emotions attached to this scenario. So, it takes time to work all that through.
Dealing with my fathers personality is a completely different thing.
I’ve said it before – he is not a person I would Choose to hang out with or be friends with or even ‘get to know’. He’s everything I despise in a human. He’s racist, sexist, ignorant, manipulative and an all round know-it-all. Thing is, he’s not even very good at those things.
I’ve tried to listen and reason and listen some more. I’ve tried to be more patient than I usually am with his ‘type’. I’ve challenged and voiced my opinion, and reaped the consequences of that.
So I’ve been floating along, feeling somewhat violently enraged lately; knowing the root of that has probably got to do with my father and my disdain for being controlled – and then along comes fucking fathers day. I wrote a poem on my blog for that, but didn’t feel much better afterwards. So I posted the following on my FaceBook page; and felt a little better when other ‘friends’, who understood my twisted humour, sent me those little lol-ling affirmative emojis. I know – I’m lame – it doesn’t take much for Me to feel a little better about everything 😉
Note to whomever: Fathers Day was like, last weekend for Us.
Anyway … I moved on. I’ve blogged a few posts about being pissed off, but have generally tried to stick with the ‘reasons to smile’ and life is Ok routine.
And then this morning came.
And with it came this puppy:
Note: after the ‘hey’, my father used my name, rather than ‘sweetie’ or ‘sweetheart’ as he generally does when he’s fishing for something.
So to back up slightly; I lost my sister nearly a year ago. The angst between Me and my father has escalated since then. Mainly because he believes I should just do as I’m told.
And you’ll Note, the passive aggressive use of force via ‘mokos’? Yeah thats some patriarchal, domestic violence kind of bullshit right there!
So while the coffee continued its brewing process and my pulse was starting to elevate slightly, I concocted this reply:
Please Note also-ly, that said father has not contacted Me or responded to my private messages since he left the country – again.
Also Note: the blanked out bits are the amount of times I tagged him into the post … to get him used to the concept … and to just piss him off really … all those notifications lol.
And thus began a chain of events that is still going.
My first ‘concern’ was my nieces (my fathers ‘mokos’ – grandchildren – these are my sisters kids). I also suspected that this use of ‘children’ and mokos routine was nothing more than a poor attempt at manipulation.
It needs to be said here: my father and his wife are both passive aggressives. However, he was a wife beater but got to old and frail so hung up his drinking mug and his beating gloves. She is the A Typical battered wife. She’s learnt how to control whats happening by lying and avoiding the truth – she pacifies him and placates him. The shit kicker is, she knows what she’s doing and why. She can quote the DV handbook. I don’t dislike her … but I won’t be manipulated by her either.
Anyway … back to it: I posted the following and tagged all my nieces and my other sister, into it. I figured it would do 1 of 2 things. Flush out the bullshit or blow up in my face. Gratefully it did the former.
My niece messaged and then we did a video call. I got to see her and her sister … and her babies ❤ So beautiful! And we caught up and there was tears and snot and more tears and more talking.
Turns out my father and his wife have been manipulating and guilt tripping and trying to control these girls since their mama passed. I saw these beautiful girls cry their precious hearts out because my father and his wife had controlled the funeral and gone against all the girls wishes for their mama.
And then the kicker.
These 2 leaches had asked the girls for part of the insurance money their mama had left them. I wrote a post about this awhile ago; but at this stage I only had half the information. It isn’t some random family members who were trying to get their hands on the loot – it was these 2! My fucking god … I was fuming! I also told them in no uncertain terms – to Not Give These Two A Cent! They’ve had their time and pissed and gambled away most of their money. They have money for multiple trips back and forth from Oz to here; they don’t need their ‘mokos’ money … they just want it. Grrr.
After they talked about this all sorts of lies they had told to varying parties, came tumbling out … yep, more tears lol.
But I felt an amazing relief. And I could see the relief on the girls faces and in their voices. I was so pleased to see them … and we’ll do this more now.
After I’d finished talking with them, the following popped up in my messenger, from my fathers wife.
While it may look like she gives a shit, she really just didn’t want her money grubbing secret to get out.
Don’t worry: I got your number!
All this took Me till about 230pm. And then I was shaking and exhausted.
I’ve stopped shaking; I’m still exhausted and pissed off … but you know what? That rage that was deep in my belly … yeah, well thats subsided. It feels like a bit of a light switch has come on.
And I’ll be dealing with my father very soon. When I’m ready. But very soon.
This doesn’t make Me feel anxious at all. Which is pleasantly strange 😉
An interesting day so far … I forget that some of my most ‘profound’ moments come when I am alone. Yes, I am an introvert who likes my own company. I always have but have only just come to grips with that and started to embrace everything that that is for Me.
The partner was away for the day and night and this has given Me enough time to reflect and get to the gist of my gistnyness – Yes, that is one of my awesome made up words 😉
After pondering on the relationship between myself and my biological father, I woke with a bit of an unfolding of a revelation. On the third cup of coffee (good quality, heart warming coffee that is) whilst watching a ‘comfort’ movie – “Guardians of the Galaxy #2”, yes, I know … I’m sooo deep I stun my own self sometimes – that unfolding revelation completely unfolded and hit Me in the frontal lobe; or there abouts anyways.
I published a post the other day regarding “family”, and what that means to Me. I described in there, that family, for Me, is sometimes more than blood. What I didn’t expand on in this post, was who those are for Me.
I shall do that briefly now.
I grew up with my younger brother; as in we shared a mother and a house. Our experiences however, were completely different. I guess I resented him slightly for that over the years but have come to recognise that he has had his own hurdles and he, like Me, has found his own way of dealing with his shit. We were never ‘close’, as in, in each others pockets constantly; and I only recall ever having 1 argument with him, and he was pretty young then, maybe 9 or something. And in retrospect, he was just trying to assert his place in the world. And he has successfully managed that! He is an awesome father, musician, friend, lyricist, scholar and Man. And he is self-taught in all areas, which I admire and can relate to on all levels. Because we had different fathers, he had his own demons to exorcise with his father and their family of origin. And he has manoeuvred that beautifully. He has a wonderful relationship with his sisters and brothers and makes sure they are all connected to him and his son, so every one knows everyone. His father passed away a few years ago, but not before he had reconciled, as much as he could, the relationship between them. He was under no illusions though, about what he had missed out on; good and bad. And as the years have passed, he’s been able to let most of the angst of that go.
So while I came to admire and respect my brother, that closeness that I kinda sorta craved, that I now recognise came from not having a connection with my sisters, lingered for a good part of my early years.
What I had forgotten though (as I do, and have done, quite frequently), is that I made some extremely close and lasting friendships of the brotherly, sibling-ly kind, with other people throughout my life. One such friend was my brother, friend and drinking partner from hell. We had an extremely close bond. One that came to a close quite a few years ago, but never the less, it had existed; and I loved and depended on it. It held Me together through some extremely rough times. We would talk all night, drink all day, laugh at each others lame ass jokes, lend money, borrow money, argue, yell, disagree, agree … I became his daughters godmother when she was born, and was even at her birth. I suck at being a godmother though lol.
My gist is … while I hadn’t had a ‘close’ relationship with my biological brother … one that I somehow ‘thought’ we ‘should’ve’ had (which is bullshit by the way) … I didn’t miss out on what I needed. It only got added to by other people in other places.
With respect to my biological father; I realised whilst watching my comfort movie, that I had always had a ‘father’. One that loved Me; provided for Me; cared for Me; was interested in Me; was proud of Me; he tried, at all times, to protect Me; he connected with Me and my children. He was everything that a good father and dad should be. And he is my maternal grandfather ❤
While I have believed somewhere within my being, that I had somehow missed out by not having a biological father ‘take care’ of Me; I really hadn’t! I had actually had a better version / the best version of a father that anyone could ever ask for.
When he passed on, I held his hand and stroked his head while the light in his big beautiful blue eyes went out. I told him that he was a good man; a beautiful man; a successful man, and that We all loved him; that we would miss him but that he had done his job impeccably and we were eternally grateful. I was able to do that for the most important man in my life, because he had shown Me love my entire life.
That is the essence of a father. It is also the essence of a father – daughter relationship.
So, you see, I didn’t miss out at all. I had just forgotten – well semantics fucked up my feng shui for a little while – that what I had hoped for from my biological father, I had actually gotten in abundance, from my grandfather father. I love that that happened to Me. And I wouldn’t change that for all the feng shui in the world! I wouldn’t even change it to have a better relationship with my biological father.
And so my peace with it all, came in this recollection:
That I had the father I always craved for and wanted. I couldn’t have had anyone better. My biological father, is just that. And I don’t owe him anymore than that recognition; I don’t even owe him anger, because with his absence, someone greater and better and more lovely, was able to fill those shoes.
It’s been an angst I can’t quite get my head, or heart around. I thought I had it sorted – well I did have it sorted really; but life has an unusual way of throwing curve balls at your torso and hitting you in the face.
Well, for Me it does.
The angst I speak of, is the ‘relationship’ with my father and my family.
Our relationship has been pretty much non-existent for nearly all of my life; and any remnants of, or shreds of some kind of functional familial type of relationship, have come with sweat, tears, begging and anger. About 10ish years ago, we came to a peaceable sort of amicable arrangement, whereby I messaged him on his birthday and at christmas, and he would do the same with Me.
Throughout the years I’ve gotten to know parts of my family: an Uncle mainly, and his family. We had issues with a cousin, namely the touchy feely type who believed it was his right to manipulate his way into my bed and when that didn’t work, he tried my eldest daughter. Although I spoke at length with my Uncle and Aunt, about their sons behaviour, it was a very obvious sore point from thereon in, and our visits with the family slowly wound down.
And then my Uncle died.
We didn’t have hardly anything to do with the family after that. At times, I’ve made attempts to extend some type of ‘olive branch’ and reconnect with them. But aside from FaceBook, we don’t hang out; we don’t chat or catch up. And if we do, it’s kind of awkward.
What has struck Me over the last few months has been the lack of connection with them all. That, like the relationship with my father, there is no strong connection. They don’t know Me, or my little family. But what strikes Me more; is that they have never made any type of effort – just like my father.
At first I was left wondering, why? And if I hadn’t made enough effort myself. That even with my sisters; did I make enough effort? Because for one of my sisters, it’s too late now.
I spoke with my other sister the other day. I haven’t really had much to do with her for years. I’ve been trying to keep in touch with her; get to know who she is and what she’s all about. During the latest conversation, she went into great detail about how she was a disappoint to my father and how she was still angry with her mother. She was trying to let it go and get on with her life – but she still blamed them for the things that had happened to her. She’s about 48 now.
It occurred to Me, that even from differing sides of the ocean, we had been striving for a relationship with a man that neither of us could connect with; but not for lack of trying. And we were both saying, in our own ways, that we had had enough of pleading and begging for something that hadn’t ever happened, and was probably never going to happen.
That leaves Me and my sister trying to forge some type of relationship, that my father and her mother, both took from all Us siblings when they decided to remove my sisters from my life; and remove themselves from my life.
Have I been embittered about it? Just a little a think.
I didn’t think I was … I thought I had it sorted and was just working out the details. But I’m pissed at him, for not giving a shit. I can’t understand how anyone can do that to a child; or how they can continue to do that when that child becomes an adult. I am pissed, he took my sisters away. I look at my own daughters; and even though they fight and get upset with each other; they have each other. They love each other; are bonded far beyond anything that could be experienced in a friendship; they get each other; have each others backs; they love their nieces and nephews and have their backs also. That is a sibling relationship that has come with years and years of contact, love and understanding.
And my father, for whatever reasons, took that away from all of Us sisters.
What a completely selfish and cunty thing to do.
And it’s this that I am still working out and trying to let go. I won’t beg for his attention or his love. That ship sailed along time ago. But I’d like to be able to be free of the anger / the angst, that I feel when I hear his name, or see him conversing with a cousin on Facebook. I’d like to not feel like throttling him when I hear him talk about him being in the country but not being able to visit Us. I’d like to not want to kick his ass when his apathy regarding his only living blood offspring, is apparent to everyone, but him.
Since you don’t seem to be available at present, I decided to write to you instead.
I hope you’re doing alright back in Oz. Hope Aunty is good and your mokos are well.
Guess what? Moko #4 (thats your great moko) turned 3 the other day. She’s the youngest one. My youngest girls little girl. She’s a bright little button – so clever, so beautiful. She loves her bottles still and has a new ‘love’ – chocolate! Apple doesn’t fall from the family tree there! She had a birthday party with her papa and her papa’s family, last weekend. And during the week, her daycare gave her a cake and let her blow out the candles. She loves doing that. We bought her kinder surprises for her birthday present. While it sounds a bit lame – she loves watching YouTube videos where the kid opens up the big plastic eggs and theres kinder surprises or other little things in them. So we bought her 6 of them!
She’s a gorgeous kid. And her mama makes sure she knows all sides of her family: cousins, aunties, uncles, nannys and koros. Because their family is a bit like ours: Separated and spread out. But even at 3, she knows whose who.
Your eldest mokos eldest baby plays the drums. Did I tell you that? He’s 9 now and he’s been playing the drums since he exited the womb. He’s bloody good you know. He’s been having a hard time at school and thats knocked his confidence a bit; but we’re all working on it for him. He’s a dearly dearly loved little man!
Then theres the 2nd oldest. She’s just a law unto her own. She has her own groove and her own means to measure that groove. She loves dance and sport. Dance – like Me. And sport – like her mama. She has this uncanny ability of remembering who is who and who is related to who. She can remember the family tree, a bit like her mama does. She knows the different koros and where they all are. She remembers who stayed around for the main events and who ‘moved on’. She even remembers those she never met; who died long before she was born. She remembers the stories we tell her, and she re-tells them. She’s 8.
Lastly, the youngest of your eldest moko. She’s dynamic, and so so bright. She has a new friend, from her daycare. They both love chocolate apparently; and spend their day making ‘cakes’ with play dough and taking care of their ‘babies’. She has favourite dresses and shoes that she likes to wear every day. She watches out for her little cousin at daycare too. She doesn’t like the bus because she was in one when it crashed into the gate. I told her that the lady that was driving the bus was a douche and next time she saw her she could tell her off. She liked that. She’s 3 and turning 4 soon.
So why am I telling you all this?
Because you’ve never asked.
My beef with you has always been the same. And as I got older and got on with life, I slowly forgave you for not knowing a god dam thing about Me. And I made as much peace as I could, with the thought that your inability to insert yourself into my existence, was born out of your own insecurities – that it was nothing to do with Me.
But here we are, 45 years later, and you still have no ability to see anything other than You. You still can’t talk to Me, or insert yourself into my life without trying to take it over.
That aside …
I see you, on the 3rd generation, doing exactly the same thing. Even as a great koro, you know virtually nothing about your mokos. I’m unsure if you even know their names. And while I feel sad that they don’t speak with you, and haven’t seen you for a few years; I know they know who you are.
Are they missing out? Considering you are still very much in the land of living – the answer should be Yes.
But unfortunately they aren’t missing out on anything. Not because they don’t know – because you have extracted yourself from another generation.
Heads Up – You possibly don’t have another generation to wait before you get it.
They, on the other hand, are just starting their beautiful lives.
Here’s hoping you can get over yourself before they get too old to care. And here’s hoping you can get over yourself before you die.
Anyway – Take care.
Yes, long time No hear about him.
This is another bullet pointing bitch.
I conversed, sort of, with my father this evening. I knew about 6 minutes in, that it was a bad idea.
A really bad idea.
He is back in the country and is getting himself sorted for his big ‘move’ back onto his land on the coast.
Now I’ve talked about this quite bit in other places so won’t rehash all those details. But just to highlight:
If you’ve read anything about how I feel about colonisation and results of it in this country; or how I feel about being cornered or manipulated; or how I feel about racism, sexism, homophobia or any cocked eyed view like those; or how I feel about having my choices made for me … if you’ve read anything about that … then you’ll know it’s shit I’m pretty passionate about. I believe peeps are welcome to their differing views, in their own corner of the universe. But Do Not slam dunk those views in my hoop.
My father breaks all rules of engagement for Me. In fact he reminds Me of an internet troll that just doesn’t let up. He’s ignorant; a know it all; a racist; a ‘phobic’ and narrow minded twat. He believes he is right and won’t hear any one elses view or opinion … including mine.
I’ve explained to him why I won’t do a Land Trust; be part of it, run it, sign up to it … I’ve explained to him that if that is what he wants to do with his parents land, then all good, that is his right and his journey … I’ll support that for him … it’s not my view or belief, but thats OK. But I won’t ever sign up to something I do not support.
So what has he done:
Thats right – he put my name on the Land Trust as a trustee and shareholder.
Oh my fuck.
Now I can overlook the fact that he doesn’t know the ‘real’ history of his people or his country; that it is probably way to fucking late to teach him or for him to even hear any of it. I can also overlook the fact that he is a perfect product of his generations colonial programming. He believes Maori are lazy, useless, uneducated and can’t get by without the governments help. He believes that we can only move forward if we become ‘white’, literally. He believes our cultural heritage is backward and uncivilised. While it revolts the living fuck out of Me, I get it, and can overlook it.
But to pull the old ‘I’m your father, you shall obey Me’ card is way beyond my overlooking capabilities.
As he was telling Me that he had signed Me up, I could feel my blood boiling. I tried to compose myself and respectfully say that I wasn’t interested in doing that, as he well knew. He asked Why. For fucks sakes. I just repeated that he already knew why and shouldn’t have signed Me up to anything as I wouldn’t be doing it, at all. And he wouldn’t hear Me. He tried the convincing routine and the guilt routine and the ‘this is for the good of the whole family’ routine. Get fucked!
In the end, my partner pulled the wifi cable out and the call went dead! LOL … just as well! But it has grated Me something fierce. And what fucks Me off more, is that he fucks Me off!!!
Selfish cunt asked how I was and when I told him about the brother in law passing, he flipped that conversation around and back to himself and his land. I know, if he was someone I had just met (which he is really), I wouldn’t continue a conversation, let alone a relationship with him.
Which brings Me to this:
Do I cut him off completely? I don’t know if I have the patience or love for him, to continue trying to form some sort of relationship or lame ass bond with him.
I’ve managed quite well without him, so what do I have to lose.
So, do you want the good news or the bad news first …
…. dunno why we say that … theres just news really, neither good nor bad … any who …
Ok, bad it is …
Apparently; according to a rather untimely snail mail letter today, from the almighty ACC … I am up for yet another assessment.
Why you ask?
Well, apparently, again, the last assessment was a pre-assessment assessment. Didn’t know they existed did yah … well, apparently, they do!
…. but do you realise how long it took Me to get ready for the last assessment which y’all said was all I needed to do … and do you realise how long it took to get over the last assessment which y’all said was I all I needed to do?
Thats right … fucking ages!
But since I’ve been waiting, like, 5 or so years for that pre-assessment assessment and then another 6 months for those results … only to be told the assessment that I thought was what i was waiting for all this time is actually only the pre-assessment assessment and that assessment is pending … I could be in for another 5 year wait???
No. Of course not … *she says ultra sarcastically so she neither cries or laughs hysterically at the absurdity of the whole fucking thing … cos all this time, she’s still the one sitting on a cool $35 smack-a-roos a week … yes, thats right … the sum total of … *
Ahhhhhh …. deep breaths …. deep breaths …
So, onto the good news …
Sure thing …
I spoke with my father.
He apologised … for not listening; for being a shit father; for not ever ever being around; for going on about shit I don’t give a fuck about; for not listening; for not getting to know Me; for not visiting; for not ever ringing; for not listening; …. for barging his way into my life … full of grief and anxiety … and expecting Me to be my sisters replacement … for taking Me for granted … oh … and for not listening!
He finally told Me about his life … his actual life … he answered my questions … and gave Me real answers. He talked about my sister … who she was to him … what she was like … as a person … as a mother. He finally talked about his regrets and his hopes … his failures and his wins … the real ones.
And he finally, finally, asked Me about Me.
So, there we have it … the ups and the downs … the good and the bad … for today.
Now I can sleep … hopefully … because as much as I thought I had kicked insomnias ass … I haven’t been to sleep before 2.30am and slept more than a few hours, for a couple weeks now … and I’m exhausted.
I’ll be fucked if I know how I survived on 3-4 hours sleep for the past 35+ years … oh, thats right … I didn’t.