private, going public

this is private stuff. i'm a private person, who doesn't make friends quickly or easily. there are some longstanding issues with abused trust that make it very hard for me to tell anyone, even my closest friends, personal things. so it seems a bit strange that i feel a need to speak publicly about things i've never told anyone. public, in the sense that a blog is open to the inspection of anyone who comes across it. i'm not taking out any newspaper ads or soliciting readership, but somehow it seems important that i open the doors and windows of this darkened, musty house that is my memory. i need to let the dust and fustiness out, and let freshness replace dankness. i need to take the furniture out in the sunshine and take inventory. is some of it valuable? would a good airing and cleaning, maybe some repair, resurrect some of it? are there bits that i've cherished and clung to long past their lifespan, that need to be disposed of?

it all has to do with the death of my stepmother, vi. i don't understand it well at all, but i've fallen into what feels like a bottomless hole of grief. can you grieve the death of someone you didn't even like? who made it abundantly clear to you that she cared nothing for you? someone who did you much more harm than good? this isn't rational. i like things to be rational.

so i have begun a timeline. i'm going through my life, year by year, writing down the milestones, and the clearest memories. i'm trying to see how the pattern of abuse developed, and who was really responsible. because, you see, i've always thought my father was innocent of it all. that he didn't know.

but, of course he knew. the neighbors knew. the rest of the family knew. the teachers knew there was something very wrong, but they didn't know what.

so, i guess i'm grieving my relationship with my father as well. i'm finally having to admit that he was complicit, a co-abuser. so instead of wanting to help him in his 'golden' years, i'm so angry i want nothing to do with him.