it’s so weird to be the child of your s***** abuser. i have his hair, his hands, his handwriting, his smile, his demeanor. when my boss called me “cold” for the first time. she had no idea how much that hurt. I’m becoming socially inept like him. and it’s getting worse as i age, like him. I’m morphing into him before my very eyes and i can’t stop it. i can fake it, mask it, act it away, journal away and self care it away but will it just be applying a cover and ultimately exhaust me to wear that mask and put so much work into it or will it truly change me and will i be able to heal.able to survive the ordeal of walking through the trauma. he was the father of my sister. i have so few connections to her. and only one memory. one memory for a lifetime of missing someone i never new. and yet I’m grateful she’s in a better place, so i don’t have to explain who her father is.
