On that fateful December 29, 1994 evening, my last vision of my father, which I posted about here, Dad not only exhibited such an unfathomable horrific display of anger. He even prepared the unthinkable — a deed to disown me! My father was disowning me, and he wanted to do it officially. Legally.
Dad created a document, the contents of which I can’t recall anymore. I didn’t really bother reading them. When signed by me, it would relinquish whatever rights I have as his daughter — legally, financially, et al., if such a document could even be enforceable. It didn’t matter to me if it would; I didn’t even keep a copy for myself.
At that point, my survival was of utmost importance. I was willing to do anything my father wanted, sign whatever documents — just in order for me to stay alive. And to keep myself away from him and keep my father away from me — clearly, a dangerous person to be around with.
So yes, Dad’s outburst of rage wasn’t sudden or spur of the moment. It had long been brewing. Pre-meditated. Well planned enough for him to ensure that whatever ties existed between us were cut off — by having me sign his well-thought of and pre-prepared document, and after ransacking my place.
Long-standing sentiments and resentments
So it didn’t surprise me that my father’s second wife thought that I still had some resentments towards Dad, 16 years after the incident, when she and I met up in 2010. Pretty much how she was feeling — her own professions, her own projections.
I wasn’t surprised that Celia was still harboring ill feelings towards Dad, albeit unconsciously, unknowingly. My father, after all, was one of the most difficult and impossible people to live with or be married to.
Celia must’ve thought that I was, like her, still angry towards Dad. I don’t blame her. But such was not the case. It hadn’t been for a very long time, as I shared in my earlier post. I had forgiven Dad long before his passing on in March 2009.
And I clearly told Celia that. I may have had my share of unpleasant, horrific experiences with my father, but I’ve learned to choose to extend compassion and see the bigger picture.
“Eh sabi ko nga sa kanya, kung gusto niya, bumalik na siya sa Mommy mo (I told him if he wants to, he can go back to your Mom).” I sensed her uneasiness as she uttered those words. Celia was recounting how Dad suffered severely during his remaining days as his health was failing him.
I also felt some heaviness in her energy, quite understandably. After all, Celia may have still been grieving and mourning at the time, and integrating her experiences, a year and a half after Dad passed on.
And perhaps she may still have had some unresolved guilt feelings because it was my father’s decision to be with her — which ultimately broke my parents’ already troubled marriage, and tore our family apart. She didn’t explicitly say so; That’s only me sensing her guilt and making my own presumptions.
Yet I didn’t want to hear of any of her grievances or conflicted emotions towards my father. Not if the only purpose was to simply talk about and focus on Dad’s wrongdoings. To vent, without the sacred intention for healing and finding the deeper meaning, higher purpose and lessons learned. After all, as far as my situation with my father was concerned, I wasn’t in misery. And I most certainly wasn’t looking for any company, or starting a pity party.
Whatever unfinished business and unforgiveness there was — be it between my father and Celia, my father and my mother, my mother and Celia, my siblings and my father, my siblings and Celia — I surely wasn’t going to take the role of a therapist.
Thankfully, I was able to immediately catch myself. I stopped myself from playing the rescuer role. I set my boundaries with Celia. I didn’t want to hear any unresolved issues and emotions towards my father. I wasn’t going to take part in that energy; I wasn’t going to take in that energy. I wasn’t going to be a basket case for whatever needed to be released from anyone’s system — not anymore. I exercised my right to choose what to allow in my energy field. I practiced my life lesson of setting boundaries. A lesson I’ve learned, a lesson I’m still mastering, after years, decades of family abuse and dysfunctionality. And, paradoxically, thanks in part to my father.
A call for love
I don’t claim to know all the details of my father’s relationship with his second wife, even if I spent a couple of years living with them in the same property. What was clear was I didn’t notice much difference in Dad’s demeanor after he began his life with Celia. His ill temperament remained the same — be it when he was with Mom or with Celia.
Dad was the same angry man. He had an anger that he didn’t know how to manage. A deep-seated anger which he didn’t know how to express appropriately. A repressed wound that only Dad truly knows where it’s stemming from. Something he wasn’t even remotely aware of or was willing to acknowledge. An anger witnessed by many close to him. A rage not a few became victims of. A wrath many became recipients of.
I’ve written extensively in earlier posts about the shadow, here, here, and here, alongside the inner child here, here, here, and here. When we have not embraced all parts of ourselves, including and especially the so-called negative or dark, unacknowledged, rejected parts, we end up projecting our issues and inner conflicts to others. We operate out of fear. We behave unconsciously. We have no awareness of ourselves, of who we truly are. Because we haven’t integrated all of our various selves, we are run purely by our emotional selves. By our wounded inner child.
Just as how my father had lived.
All he knew and what he knew best was to take out his anger on people close to him — his spouse, his children, his siblings.
“’An attack is really a call for love.’ There are only two emotions in life, and these are Love and Fear. People attack because they live in fear. See through the negative ego veil they are manifesting, and give them the unconditional love they are truly asking for.“ ~ David Joshua Stone, PhD
After all that I’ve shared about my father, and after all the seemingly unimaginable, unforgivable things that his personality self has done, or failed to do, one thing I know for sure is —
Underneath the rage is simply a severely hurting young boy, suffering a deeply rooted wound, crying out and asking for only one thing,
the exact same thing that all of us are asking for,
the very thing that the wounded inner child behind every angry adult is yearning for,
the one thing that a severely hurting and fearful child within each one of us is longing for,
something Dad didn’t know how to ask for.
If Dad only knew that,
and if he only knew how to ask for it.
Happy birthday Dad
On the 1st of this month of October, Dad would have turned 80. I’ve spent this whole month not only thinking about him, but doing deep healing work on my father-related issues and wounds, which I’ll share in future posts. Actually not only this month but since the early part of this year, a major theme of my Chiron Return journey.
As this month comes to a close, and as a fitting end to this post, and on the occasion of the 80th birthday of my father, I want to say nothing more except,
Thank you Dad for loving me, the way you knew how. And thank you for loving me enough to have played such a challenging role in my life, my abusive father, in order for my soul to grow and evolve in this lifetime. I love you Dad. Always have. Always will.
- My last vision of my father – Remembering Dad Part 1
- And the pattern of abuse continues – Remembering Dad Part 2
- Shining My Light – Remembering Dad Part 3
- The Power of Telepathy – Remembering Dad on Father’s Day (Part 4)
- Chiron Return: A Return to My Family and Childhood Wounding
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