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Dear Dad, Thanx For the Unforgettable Trauma
50 years later I’m still tormented
I suffered a lot of trauma growing up. Most of it I have overcome throughout the years. I mean, I’m almost 60, so most of my past is exactly where it belongs, in the past.
But there’s one thing that continually pops up year after year, several times throughout the year. It came up again just a couple of days ago and I was pissed off, upset, frustrated and felt completely hopeless. It was so much wtf and “when will this bullshit stop”?
I’m so tired of it.
I don’t talk about it with anyone. Most of the triggers and trauma I am able to deal with myself, quite effectively I might add, but this one. Not so much.
Road trip terrors
When we were younger, we went on many road trips. Not too far. Dad’s brother lived in Bracebridge, an amazing small town with the famous Santa’s Village, about 3 and a half hours away. We would go at least 3 times a year during the summer.
It was my favourite place in the whole wide world.
One hour into the road-trip and it started. The yelling, the crying, the freaking out the “Mommy please tell Daddy to stop the car”. Iva has to pee. Every.single.fucking.time. My sisters would laugh at me, mom would…