Recurring Visits

I have been musing about my family and what they have done.

I was living in a foreign country close to the border of my home country. For some reason my parents kept visiting me though I was unpleased by this. I tried stopping them and cutting the contact while still being dependent on their money to keep me afloat in my studies. I was studying psychology and there was a lot of pressure building up from various people upon me making me decide to switch studies and stop at my second semester. Still there was the issue of my parents trying to force themselves upon me.

It escalated with them becoming violent and sneaking into my house and taking justice in their hands it seemed. I will spare the details but ended in me fearing my very own life being taken by those people.

Eventually this left me traumatized.

Over the years I tried to comprehend why and how. But there seems to be a part in human nature and the people that abuse others that is beyond reason.

I was confronting a family member about this today and I told him if he keeps making fun of what he did to me I will forget myself. I retrospect thinking about this my guess is that I will forget the human part of my psyche. I would have become the beaten and mistreated animal that lives in me and is tamed by my ego and lead along. The animal mind or you might call it the subconcious. The now.

As time came to pass I was wondering about my struggle to cope with what had happened and I try to leave as many details as possible out. But there was this pattern. My parents especially my father had an abusive dad and he ran away from him so to speak and his dad was trying to force himself upon them, upon us our family. It was a looming theme in our family over the years till "grandpa" died.

There is a thing about generational trauma. My dad abused me or used me in my childhood a lot as cheap labor I was basically a call away (he used to call me over the phone even though he was one room next to me. Also he once told me as an apprentice electrician he had made chain lightbulb that he could control from his bed. I was oddly reminded that this was metaphor for his calls on me) if he needed my labor. I spent my school holidays between 12 years and 17 years in various renovation projects in the house. Being told i was supposed to learn something while only doing carry work. Walking stones up and down the stairs. It left me more and more depressed.

After graduation in germany I wanted to study abroad to have some distance and a good resume for a job later. Tri-Lingual. Tryharding the business world. A slave to capitalismn who knows.

An international. Smart. I wanted to be that.

They forced themselves upon my new location driving various times more than 3 hours to reach me and drive back. They basically brought their toxicness to my new destination. Life curbed upon me and eventually they stole me from my home. They made what I wanted to call my home a new broken home. A new created Identity destroyed.

I wonder from the perspectives I had witnessed in our household had my dad become his own dad? Had he tried to force me back like his dad did?

Eventually my Uncle bought his brothers and his house back with lots of pressure and fanaticismn towards my grandma. With various threats. He tried to take back his broken home and renovate it.

Are we slaves to our trauma trying to go back where we were forced to leave. Picking up where we left off?

Never being able to travel back in time but having a mind stuck at this place and time?

They wanted to rebuild their home and destroyed mine.

I am left with a broken home inside of me. Taking it where ever I go.