Abuse

It is said that our parents have an unfair advantage in that they form who we are without us being able to do much about it. My father abused my mother, and I and my brother sat by helplessly. It seems to me that I have been on a journey to figure out why. It seems to me that I could help someone else with the written word. The written word has magical powers, books magically appear in your possession to lead the way, to guide you on your path. As I have benefited perhaps I can benefit others. Here in bald language is what I have ascertained which may or may not even be true, just true to me.
Depression is a hard burden, and my father had major depression. This causes insomnia, and he slept badly his whole life. My parents were locked in a life or death struggle, with one and then the other getting the upper hand. My father figured out something that many men do, that anger makes depression go away for as long as you can remain angry. A funny thing is that this abuse runs in families and my father was abused by his father who was abused by his father going back who knows how many generations. This anger came out towards my mother, who was to blame for everything. Even stranger is the fact that abused women not only stand for it, but cannot be separated from the abuser. My mother would not have let anything keep her from my father. This anger he felt was necessary for his own survival, nothing else brought relief. This happened in cycles, you could feel tension building to my father's ultimate explosion. My brother and I were no more than pawns on the chessboard the two of them were playing, but all of us were pawns in the game my father was playing. It is instinctive for him to become angry when he sees one of us in person, when we are faraway he waxes sentimental and loves us so much. I say this for all of those out there who are searching for reasons, there was no reason. There is just this illness and a drowning person will seize anything or anyone to keep from drowning. I have read about this from other accounts and this is the conclusion I have come to. I am two people to my father, the one present in person and the one he loves who is not there.
My father lived a different life in later years with a younger woman who adored him. He still battled insomnia and he watched television all the time. He would leave the lights on so bright.
This is my hard won piece of knowledge and I hope it will help someone else.