Thursday

I’m going to have to accept that I can’t start the healing while I am overflowing with a lifetime full of back to back trauma.

I dont know when I can get to my mother’s death and the aftermath.

Today it’s about the last major betrayal by my dad, Ken.

I begged him. Please talk to this man. I wanted to have the property line checked because it was sure he changed it. I watched the numbers change online. Sometime in June/July he was able to pay someone or get someone to change it.

He could have been stopped. Boundaries could have been set. As it happened the violent man started committing his first felonies and the destruction was enormous and ongoing. I believe the trees were not even his to remove. There were cardinals nesting and living in those trees since before I had moved there. In fact the reasons i rented a worn down, unkept house was cheap rent, a fenced in yard, and the huge number of cardinals that lived there. They were eradicated in a day. Along with every beautiful and beneficial insect that made their homes in over a dozen trees. It wasn’t legal and it could have been prevented.

My dad was going to talk to him and have him stop until we could have our own property assessment. And I needed time to look into protecting the cardinals.

Ken promised to have him delay until we could straighten things out. He promised me he would make sure we had time to stop the carnage. I reiterated, Please Ken, don’t betray me on this. He was already violent towards me and I could not get help stopping him on my own. Ken PROMISED the trees would be there when I got home and we could get the property assessed.

When I got home they were gone. Ken didn’t pause. As soon as I walked away he did his make bonding. And as he had always done in my childhood, told this man he could do whatever he wanted.

The birds died. The insects and every living thing died. My entire yard scorched within the week. He had already torn my morning glory vines off of my entire fence. he sprayed all of my flowers through the fence. He had me physically shoved aside so he could come onto my property and steal my plants and shrubs. He had lawn people spray and seed my property because he felt entitled and Ken let him know he could do whatever he wanted. Since then there was constant harassment. He has killed and injured multiple cats. The entire ecosystem was eradicated. I am just know starting to see life again. But these animals get stuck because he put a wall behind his fenced in backyard with the sole purpose of harming and interfering with animals. He has poisoned so many animals. And every time he is here he throws more trash over the fence and spreads poison all over his mulch. I’ll talk about the violence of his fence another time.

This is about the things my father is directly ok with.

I knew when I asked for help staying in this house that he would make me pay. It’s always been that way. I never see how bad it can be though. I am not able to think like Ken to see what can come.

I never had linen words or protection from my parents. Never. I was born to be their scapegoat. By the time we moved to Hudson I was paralyzed. I didn’t know how I was allowed to behave or talk. It was always wrong and shamed. No matter what I did or said. So I would go to school scared, vulnerable, and unsure how to be around others. It was the 70s and bullying was unhinged. I spent most of the time sitting with my head down trying not to be seen. Then I’d go home scared always. I wasn’t even a teenager before men in their 20s saw clearly that I was not cared for. A grown man could come to my door and my dad would shake the creeps hand. My parents would joke and chat with a grown man and ignore their terrified daughter. They sicken me. Betrayal after betrayal. I always imagine Ken continues business relationships with the men who harm me. I have to assume they become the friends that stop by the his house on holidays. I imagine there is bonding over slandering me and laughter at my pain.

That’s who Ken and Karen are.

He will bond with men who harm me. Then turn to me with such mean hatred in his eyes. My pain disgusts him. He will get big and in my face and let me know how bad I am. That’s the father I have. When I cry he hates me more. It’s sick. He’s sick.

I’ve done well considering how difficult things are for me. But there are always complications and limits because of the trauma. I work ridiculously hard, always. Even now. I made some journals I’m trying to sell. I really need money now and I know they are good. But I’m limited in how outgoing and confident I can be.

I’ve never had anyone on my side though so I’m not hopeful.

I’ve never had anyone unconditionally be there for me. No one has ever backed me up to stand up against abuse and bullying. Never. I’ve had people empathize and still be friendly. But I am always isolated by abusers. People only turn their backs on me and ignore my pleas.

So this man gets away with violence and multiple felonies. My business that was thriving is not enough to get me by. Im afraid of losing my home right now. I keep doing more and more. And it’s so much harder for me than for people who haven’t gone through so much violence.

This is giving me severe pain in my stomach.

I’ll stop with adding that you can hear a word for word conversation with Ken Come money by listening to the Ted Bundy interview tapes. Minus the talk of corpses, every deflection and every lie and every obviously fake display of humanity is word for word things my dad says. It’s weird . I can’t say Ken is a sociopath or emotionally stunted. Maybe he’s just an abusive boomer. I don’t know. But it’s like he’s reading straight from Bundys interview. Yet, he is my dad. I was still hoping for some type of connection or something this last time we had a chance. I should have known

Geez I am in pain now. The pups were napping. It’s so hot again. I need some animal hugs. I’m going to try to catch a picture of that mommy skunk and her little baby tonight.

I’ll repost my posts about my journals on Stan store. I need them to sell