Lovely meltdown and blow up

So my dad was here for a long time tonight. He began to lament about how much he adored Endora(one of his late wives and not her real name). He began to go on and on about how abused Deanna, (not her real name either) is, and I could see where he was going with that. (Deanna and her usband befriended dad shortly before he left Rhode Island. Deanna is veryoutgoing and friendly and "huggy" Dad misconstrues this for her "having the hots" for him, even though she is 20 years his junior.
Poor Deanna, she is of that Rhode Island behavioural pattern that trains women that they can't stand up for themselves, and that confrontation is bad. So she won't tell my dad how inappropriate his behaviours are toward her.

So basically he was going on about this krap tonight, and I called him on it. I told him point blank how he abused Endora (and my own mother) right in front of my very eyes on numerous occasions. I told him that his behaviour toward Deanna was inappropriate because she was A). Married, and B). 20 years younger than him and he was misinterpreting her friendliness, for attraction. He argued the point and then I launched, and there was no stopping me. I literally could not stop.

A friend asked me, "why does his little fantasies bother you so much, Michelle."

Well because he doesn't want them to remain as fantasies, and he is actively working out ways to make them reality. He wants to bring Deanna out here from Rhode Island. He wanted her to sleep in his bed with him when she escorted him back out here from Rhode Island. I offered her Blakes room so that she woudl have a choice and she JUMPED on it. I think she realised that he had the hots for her, and rather than correct him face to face, she looked for ways to avoid him without appearing to. It is the Rhode Island way: say what they want to hear, do what is expected.
So when she was here, she stayed in Blakes room and boy was dad pissed. But the thing is, he is a horrid, abusive old lech and he has been for all of his life. . He approaches women my age in the store and asks them if "they're husbands are good to them, because if they aren't then she (which ever woman he has picked out in the aisle) should come and find him." They laff and say "oh aren't you cute." And they look at me as I mouth the silent words "I'm so sorry," and they understand, and are gracious about it. But it is gross and wrong.
He speaks inappropriately in public about groping women in certain places and maybe I am wrong but I think that is just foul.

FLASHBACKS

I have been going to counseling to learn how to process his behaviours and attitudes, as well as my amazing lack of memories from childhood. I do have an occasional flashback to a childhood memory. This has begun to occur since he has moved back in to our house. Some times the strength of these flashbacks are enough to make me pull the car over, or stop me in my tracks. They usually happen in the car, or when I am doing something really lame like the dishes or the laundry and just going along my own way and suddenly it is like a daydream begins to unfold, playing out before my eyes like a movie, but it is very quick and jolting. Thats the only way to describe the sensation: a jolt. I experience a sense of realization that "hey, this did happen - I remember this now, and this really DID happen!" and then within a few hours or days, the memory is gone and I can no longer recall the details of it. Just the pysical reactions i had to the memory. To me, that just sounds weird.

For a while now I have doubted the validity of these random occurances, thinking, "Michelle, you are loopy. What makes you day dream about such horrible things? That cannot have happened. If it did, you would still recall it from the other day."
But after the last time it occurred, I realised that I was not loopy.
Can I recall the memory in the flashback today?
No.
But I DO recall the experience of sitting in the car remembering it.
It was stunningly shocking to me both emotionally and physically.
I remember my reaction to the memory, and not the memory it self.
Doesn't that sound like my imagination fabricating things that never happened?

If I were reading this same post, written by some one else, I would look at this whole flashback nonsense and think " sister you are full of crap. You have just manufactured this whole thing up inside your tiny little mind."

But you know what?
Strange enough to say, I don't think I have manufactured it.
I don't think I have a need to manufacture that sort of thing.
Anyway, crazy stuff.

My counselor told me that it is becoming very unhealthy for me and my family to have my dad living here with us. He makes my girls uncomfortable with the way he stares at them. He refuses to honour boundaries like knocking on the door, or walking around trying to look in our windows.
I feel like a prisoner in my own home sometimes : we all have taken to locking the doors and keeping the curtains closed, just to retain a little privacy. I have asked him to please knock on the door before coming in. He doesn't do it. Or if he does, he opens the door and knocks on it while he is opening it. So we keep the doors locked.

So anyway, back to the headline...

I did have a meltdown. I tiraded on my dad for his inappropriate sexual goals, and about his abuses, both recieved and given out. And what a pack of brutes he was raised by ; people who beat him for stuttering, people who beat him for being left handed. People who ruled by intimidation. People who yelled and screamed and hated their women. They were the people who taught him how to be a man and they taught him wrong.

I went on and on and on, I simply could not stop. It all came flooding out.
He was silent, and then he just got up and left.
I was so glad to see him go.
I want him out of here.

I don't know that I feel bad about letting fly at him.
I don't know that I don't feel bad.
Surely I wished I could have stopped, but I couldn't.
It was all just too horrible.
Iwas completely out of control.
And yet I do also feel VERY strongly that I needed to speak these truths to his face so that
he cannot get away with these pretenses, at least here, in my face.
I hate the word hate.
but I detest that horrid little man.
I worry about having other flashbacks.
I really don't want him here.
But the family in Rhode Island said, "You're the daughter. You have to do this. He can't live on his own anymore." S
o it was either my house or a senior center/condo/apt set up and he would not hear of that. (Only bad people make their elders go live in a place like that. Good people take their elders into their own home when they can't live on their own. This is the BS that people still live under. Well, in my mind, I don't buy that krap, but apparently in my actions I knuckle under to it because...because I am intimidated by...hmmm... my dad, his friends and extended family back there...guilt...all of the above?)

I don't ever want my kids to take me in.
I don't ever want them to go through this.
I don't ever want them to feel the have to.
If I can ever afford to live in a senior center, I will choose it in a heartbeat BEFORE I get to the decrepit stage.
But I don't have much hope of being able to afford a residential situation like that.
I wonder if there are state institutions that care for the elderly without resources?
(Hmm... have to check that out sometime.)

When I look at my dad, I think to myself, "this is BS. I NEVER want to live long enough to have my kids have to think about my living with them. I adore my kids, but I would rather crawl out into the forrest on a snowy night and die like a wounded animal than to have to put them through this kind of a agony.

I have done this twice now, for both my parents. They were both a "piece of work." And neither of them were people I liked.

Right now, strange to say it but, I am starting to view cancer as a friend.
It could actually be a boon, because then the problem would be solved. I would get to go home eternally, and my kids would not have to deal with this. I do not have the notion that I could befriend a bullet or a noose, or even a bottle of pills, but it is possible that I might welcome cancer some day. It would be an easy out. (Easy is probably not entirely the right word.)

The dilemma is this:
If cancer comes too soon, before my kids are raised, then do I seek treatment?
I mean, what if it were my only chance to get out of this world before I get too old? I might miss my opportunity?
But I would be compelled to seek treatment if it came before my kids were grown, because I do love them desperately and believe they need a mom for their growing up years. I am just not convinced that they would need me to be around for all of their adult lives.

Yes, it is a horrible, painful ghastly way to die, but it is a reliable way to die.
And it would not be of my own choosing, but Gods timing and control.
I don't think it is necessarily wrong to look forward to death. It is wrong to ACT on that belief though. But I don't think it is wrong to accept death when it comes either.

At least I say that today.
I may say something totally different as life goes on, and I (hopefully) become smarter or wiser.
Then again, I may not change that perspective. Who knows. Only God.