For starters...

I planned to start this blog long ago... Actually, I did start it a few years back but... Well, I wish I didn't, it was a really bad time in my life.

There will be a “proper introduction, structure” and all that, but now I just want to focus on one thing; something I’d normally do on Facebook, but… enough, it only creates unnecessary confusion. Others, obviously, have no idea what it’s all about. This is for those who do.

Well, looks like my poor, lost in the big world BD (bio daughter) will never stop crying over things that never happened almost 20 years ago... On Facebook, quite a few times I posted some questions for her and never got a single answer. Duh, how can you explain… say, severe beating (punching in the face, kicking, “pummeling the back") that didn't leave a single bruise? (She admitted it just a few months ago, “Police said that there was no case b/c there was no proof”, sth like that). Oh, and being pushed down the stairs! That’s a new one. Apparently, she forgot to mention that back in 1997.

Yes, in case you didn’t know, this alone can cause quite visible marks. In her blog  

https://sascharants.wordpress.com/author/saschakonietzko/      

she writes about her mother:

"When she called me to tell me that I could come home because he was gone, I came to the townhouse that was our home and she answered the door with her ankle wrapped up in a tensor bandage. 

It didn't even take a second for me to figure it out. He pushed her down the stairs. Of course, it took two weeks for her to admit that's what happened even though I already knew." 

Wow. And I'm learning about it now?

Of course, it’s just another lie. Another return of our “prodigal daughter” was the reason we were arguing on that day, June 16, 2000. She was the reason we split. I never said that in so many words, but the tension between me and my then wife was getting unbearable. It started after that horrible October 13, 1997, when based on Perpetual Victim’s lies, I was kicked out of home “until trial”, which meant a year or even longer. Luckily, the lawyer was able to speed it up and I would’ve been “home for Christmas” (December 17) after ‘just’ 2 months. However, her mother’s crying (literally, that didn't happen often) made me sign the humiliating Peace Bond, what meant practically admitting to all those horrible things I didn’t do. Pretty hard to imagine that something like that wouldn’t affect a relationship. Right?

What happened on that last day of our marriage was a “final straw”. The argument got more and more heated… Not because I’d been drinking, I’m a “happy drunk”, but b/c I couldn’t stand the mere thought of Princess coming back again and again doing whatever the heck she wants to. With us… just as onlookers, neighbours. Who’d agree to that? Except her mother that is, "happy our daughter is home again", cleaning up the whole place... Her love was unconditional, still... "technically, both my parents were abusive".

I know, The Professional Survivor will say, “My mom didn't mention being pushed down the stairs out of fear.”

Sure, and would rather spend the night being alone with someone who might've just killed her… No? If you try to imagine the situation described in the report – me pushing her away from the stereo (it was just her hand I pushed, which doesn’t really matter here), so her facing me with her back to the stairs… Jesus, couldn’t break her neck?

Ok, enough of this nonsense. None of four cops noticed… her limping, at least? Quite severe, I’d assume. If later the ankle required a tensor bandage…

It’s really hard for me to understand why my once-daughter who I loved so much would do something like that to me, but what she’s done to her late mother is unforgivable.   

“She would lock me out at night if I didn’t bring a dish and a fork home from work, a dish and a fork I had at work for my lunches.  She would lock me out at night if she decided I was out too late. Even though I was 19 years old. “

I’ll get back to that post, it’s a long one... Can’t really force myself to write much more right now, all this is… I happen to grasp for words quite often talking about this, it's simply unbelievable.

Just one thing, how can you fit into this gloomy picture (taken straight from Dickens, I guess) something like a conversation about giving the poor, battered child our Tercel? She wrote about that in her Myspace Notes years ago - "was promised" the 5-year-old, paid off (mostly by me) car and... What happened? Oh no.... Poor girl didn’t bring her dish and fork from work again?...