Inhibition
I still want to hate him. Every time I have to say no to my kids because we can't afford something. Every time one of them has a panic attack. Every time one of them has to scramble to find a father figure for an activity. Every time one of them has a flashback or gets depressed or is afraid. I want to blame him, and I want to hate him. I want to roll up the anger into a ball and ram it through his heart and watch him disintegrate with the power and weight of all the destruction and pain. I want him to truly feel and know what he's caused and what he's lost. I want to deeply feel this so I can sit in it and own it and process it and release it. But when I try to really get there, I can only see him as what he really is. I can only see him as a terrified little boy who is so afraid of himself and of the world that he won't ever face it or fix it or acknowledge it. When I really try to hate him, I just feel sorry for him. I feel robbed of something. I feel like I haven&#