To my Father’s Family,

To my father’s family,

He was your son, Uncle, cousin and nephew. To you all, he was a good man. He pursued a life in England, climbed the ladder in his career, played the loving and later wronged husband, became a doting father and most of all, gave the impression of a well-rounded, thoughtful human being.

Unfortunately, I am about to shatter your perception of this ‘perfect’ man.

This thoughtful being was the most unthoughtful person I’ve ever known. Not only was he abusive to me but he spent the majority of his loveless marriage abusing my mother both emotionally and physically. He beat her. Violently. She did nothing to “provoke” him. He chose to hurt her. What kind of a man does that make him now? Do you still think of him as caring and loving?

To my Uncle who asked whether his brother would be having a religious, Hindu ceremony for his funeral. My sister lied. We never held anything of the sort for him and there was never any intention to do so. My father was no longer a Hindu and had not been for over fifteen years prior to his death. My sister kept up his pretence, his shame, well after his death. She was happy to deceive you and probably would continue to do so to this day. She even wrote to me and asked me not to mention it to anyone, you know the fact that he was a Christian

He was ashamed of his religion and would never have told any of you. 

It was secret for many years.

But it is time you found out the truth.

I cannot empathise. He never fully embraced Christianity. He certainly followed an odd set of beliefs too. I myself, having been to a Church of England Primary School and now working in a Faith School, have seen what true Christianity is. My father’s beliefs were not from the Christian faith that I know. It was evangelistic and critical. It was homophobic and racist. Ultimately, it was frightening.

He had become a robot regularly preaching psalms to me, spouting biblical nonsense at me. His life centred around his church. His funeral took place at his church. This devoted Christian man received a very surreal send off. I watched as they praised him for his integrity and wept at the loss of such a wonderful considerate man.

I did not weep.

I was happy. I am happy. I am happy that he is dead.

This man destroyed my life. He was the soul reason I hated myself for many years. He controlled, manipulated, abused, insulted, defamed, lectured, bullied, threatened, tortured and emotionally battered me for sixteen years.

This wonderful person did not deserve a place on this earth.

To anyone who thinks he is in heaven right now…………….

He is swimming in hell.

 

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When Will It Stop?

When Will It Stop?

With the tag line that “two women die from domestic violence a week” ringing in your ears, see a powerful PSA advertisement highlighting the very frightening subject of domestic abuse.

Keira Knightley fronted this campaign.

More needs to be done for women and men subjected to this horror.

http://youtu.be/rt7JZSrDJA8

Child Exposure.

What is neglect? Can exposing children to video games and T.V shows after the watershed be described as abuse? A discussion at work today has left me thinking. Of course it can.

Grand Theft Auto 5 is a prime example. I have heard children talk incessantly about this game. Not only is it not age-appropriate but it is alarmingly explicit and violent too. It is notorious for it’s high levels of violence, sex and language. It is clearly NOT for children. Yet, children are exposed to games like this daily in the UK and around the world.

Coming from a background in where a man (my father) hated, ridiculed and abused women, it is so disturbing to see that this game shows all women that feature in it in an incredibly derogatory light. Women are seen as prostitutes, strippers, moaning wives, dumb girlfriends. Women are not seen as powerful figures. What kind of a message is been sent out to boys and young men? Rape culture is sadly growing. Surely, treated women as animals and seeing them as below men is not helping that matter.

Children are unfortunately exposed to all sorts. Ranging from violent video games to late night TV shows to even porn. How can a child understand anything like that. This is pure neglect and abhorrent abuse.

We are supposed to be protecting children. They are our future. Why is the world just setting them up to fail? Give these kids back their innocence.

Sometimes we’re so concerned about giving our children what we never had growing up, we neglect to give them what we did have growing up.

Physical abuse – a new insight.

I have always said that my father did not physically abuse me. However, after delving further into the term “physical abuse” and all that it stands for, I am shocked to see that my claim is not true. He was physically abusive. I just don’t have any visible scars. In my quest to research the different aspects and consequences of abuse, I have fallen on new information. I have always believed that physical abuse was to be violent. The person on the receiving end would have scars and visuals to prove their abuse.

Research has led me to realise that there are many other appearances of this kind of abuse. My abuser was extremely threatening. If he did not get his way or I was disobedient, his threatening behaviour would follow. His deep, bellowing voice would resonate through the house or in public and the way in which he ordered me closer and breathed down my neck, talking at me through gritted teeth, all added to his aggressive demeanour. His physical stance and how he towered over me, making sure he had all the power as I cowered into the shadows. The way he would lure me into believing I was safe, even making a joke or choosing a lighter topic of conversation first before launching into his fit of rage and sudden burst of apocalyptic anger. The constant threats of harm against me that he made, telling me that I needed a punch – that it would “sort” me out or to go and kill myself to make his life easier. I never thought of it as physical abuse at the time but telling your own child to commit suicide must be classed as that. Oh and it’s abhorrent too.

His reckless driving and aggressive behaviour in the car all adds up to physical abuse. He put my life at risk every day I spent in that car with him. Every day I anticipated his anger and waited for another explosion. He deliberately chose the car as a place to shout and rant at me as I (in his words) had “no escape”. I wanted to release my seatbelt and fling myself out onto the open road many a time. The thought seemed better than enduring his continuous barrage of contempt.

A key part of physical abuse that I never recognised was how my abuser prevented me from seeking medical help or care. If I needed a doctor, he had to know the reasons why. When I refused, he exploded. The moment that stands out the most is the day of my massive Asthma attack in 2009* where my father refused point blank to call an Ambulance in the night for me, implying that I was seeking attention and being dramatic. The other option was that he drive me to a hospital at 1.am. He refused that too. He never felt worry for me, or fear for my life.

The way he would sharply raise his hand to my face holding it suspended, mid air, inches from my skin – surely that was physical? Yes, he never released it and let it slap my across my cheek but how can what he was doing be classified as anything else?

My father was an abusive man.

In every way.

* See post Notes.