18 years of a psuedo-freedom

This week it came to my attention that as of this coming Thursday, it will be 18 years since my Dad killed himself with a shotgun in a cornfield just north of the Missouri border in Iowa. 18 years since a nightmare ended and 18 years since the last fight and talk I had with him where I agreed with him that he should kill himself. 18 years since new fears crept into my life. 18 years of freedom, with a price I continue to pay.

In it coming to my attention, I found how little I think about my Dad and the Hell that was 1992-1994. Most, I don't think, ever knew. Many will never know. I'd rather forget but I never can, nor should I. But trust me on this, I know evil, Hell and abuse. What I've gone through is nothing compared to others. I know some have had it worse, so I'll not now, or ever, compare my horrors to theirs. That said, to me they are...they are things I'd rather forget. Times I'd rather like to imagine are nightmares that vanish when I wake up. I know it's not true, but it is a comforting lie.

In some ways I miss him, having a dad and all. But I don't miss the abuse, alcoholism, lies, fights and fear. It's strange that for years after he died, I still looked over my shoulder. If I smelled some scent like his, heard a noise or truck that sounded like his or even if someone sounded like him, I froze and went so cold. Gods forbid when I saw someone who looked like him, I'd run. That fear drove me hard for a long time. It till does to a point.
Rationally, I know he's dead. I doubt he could have stayed quiet this long if he wasn't. But it's the irrational side that is at work with this aspect of my life. No one saw the body, my Mom and Grandfather gave the Coroner the tattoos and scars as a reference point. I don't know if there was enough of a head to get dental records or not. And DNA testing was still in its infancy, I think. I've been curious about getting the records and looking them over, but I doubt that it would be a good idea. I'd do more damage to myself than anything else. And I don't need the images in my head either. For all he was, I want to remember him as a whole person, not a corpse on a table who may or may not still have a head.

It feels strange, realizing how long it's really been since he died. In a way, it really was a lifetime ago. I was someone so different from who I am now. Getting past the abuse can do that, make time seems more than what it is. Because of him and the treatment I got as a kid in school, I force myself to walk a fine tightrope. I've stumbled to be sure, fallen a couple times. But I've gotten back up and kept such tight control over me. I have to. I know what I can become and what damage that person can bring. I won't put someone else through that. I refuse to.
And I can go on and on about how I've gotten past the abuse, but you never really do. You learn to cope and hide the pain and fear. Some of the pain comes from me cutting those final ties with my paternal family, they are still a big reminder for me, even with the pain they've caused after my Dad died. But they will be getting my final say sooner rather than later. So much for blood being thicker than water and all.
But the fear? That's a tough one. I still get chills and moments of hesitation when a smell or sound comes my way. Thankfully it has been a very long time since someone who looks like him has crossed my path. And hopefully The universe won't change that! I don't know how I'll react when it will eventually happen. And it will, it's inevitable. I hope I'm strong enough now to keep moving and not turn to run.

But still...18 years of freedom. Feels good, but even freedom comes at a cost. Mine was my sense of security and giving rise to a keen sense of paranoia. There are times I've fantasized about what a 'normal' life would be like, what it would feel like to have stability as my foundation. But I'm sure I've romanticized it to death and have gotten it wrong. But then, if I'd have had a 'normal' life, who would I be? I like where my life has taken me and what I've learned.

I'm sure everyone gets caught in the "What If" fantasies.