Hi all.
My father died eight years ago. He was a fundamentally good and well-intentioned person, but very damaged. He had an unstable background, his own father was abusive and died when he was 17 and he had a terrible time with his mother and sisters (one older, one younger). Everyone from that side of the family is damaged, though they show it in different ways.
He had a flaming temper, and growing up there was a lot of screaming, shouting and swearing, though when I was very young there were lots of displays of love and tenderness too (he used to make me toys out of paper and wood, loved taking me and my sister out to places and so on - he very much wanted children and liked them when they were younger). As I entered my teens, though, things got tense between us and his behaviour became abusive - every few weeks an argument would end with him chasing me into my room, cornering me, and slapping me across the face, kicking me or punching me in the mouth. He would call me names ('fucking parasite' 'piece of shit' and 'cheeky bitch' are the ones I remember most vividly but there were others) and tried to kick me out of the house when I was 15. (I actually stayed purely to piss him off - yeah, I know.) I was not a bad kid - quite the opposite, I was teased at school for being such a swot, I was a dedicated Girl Guide and Scout and actually a bit po-faced. He just couldn't accept that normal teenage moodiness wasn't personal and had no control over his temper, nor understanding of not escalating situations. He never touched my mother or sister, but there'd be screaming rows with them as well.
It was never taken seriously in my family and it still isn't. On occasion I told my mother I wanted to contact ChildLine and she would cry and tell me to stop being so dramatic and that I would ruin the family. I sometimes thought about going to the police but we were a respectable looking middle class family in a respectable middle class area, I was a good student, I wasn't being starved or beaten or locked in cupboards, and I suspected I wouldn't be taken seriously, indeed even doubted whether it was as serious as it sometimes felt. My mother still talks about how it came down to Dad's 'lack of confidence' and while she has learned not to speak about it like that to me because I won't accept it, she still doesn't quite accept how very serious it was and bristles if I use the term 'abuse'. If I'd had a boyfriend who treated me that way, my family wouldn't have rested until he was in prison. I remember actually being jealous of kids whose parents were divorcing because it was exactly what I wanted my parents to do. I didn't want to have to live with my father or have any contact with him.
It got a bit better after I went to uni, though he remained foul tempered and foul mouthed his entire life. I thought I'd made peace with it all but now I'm pregnant with my first child, it is coming back to haunt me. I am getting angrier and angrier that a)it happened and b)my family refused and still refuses to take it seriously, and I am also absolutely terrified that I will do similar things with my own child. I would sincerely rather not have a child at all than have the kind of relationship I had with my father (it was one reason I wasn't sure I wanted kids for a long time). I'm finding it hard to enjoy my pregnancy and look forward to my baby with my husband (who is wonderful) because this is all haunting me so much. I don't know if bringing it all up with my family all these years later will do any good though.
Is there a way of moving on through this so I can enjoy my pregnancy and look forward to my new family life?