Summary: A long story about my fathers' divorce experience, as well as my outlook on the whole case.

In my last post, I discussed marriage and falling in love but today I am personally introspecting on what is commonly known here as a divorce rape. I've also noticed no divorce rape stories lately, so lets remind ourselves and freshen the collective memory on what sacrifices men undertake to raise their children in marriage.

In medias res...

''My son, I can't take it anymore, maybe you will hate me, maybe you will understand me, but my health is deteriorating and I can't sit here with her on the couch watching the television throughout the whole day anymore. My friends are non-existent because she never liked them, and the couples we hung out with – she would get in a fight with any women seen as a threat to her.''

This was 5 years ago, when my father sat me down and opened up to me. As a strong man, the C.E.O., I never ever saw him break – but he looked as if he was to cry. A man who managed and organized once over 200 people with decisive boldness almost lost combat against one woman. I was 17 at the time and my graduation celebration was nearing, and I was seeing myself distant and wrecked already.

''How did it start, why? We have everything we need!'' - ''Well, as you see your mum the last two weeks is constantly talking on the phone, it's because she found my call list and she's trying to see if there is a women im interacting (fucking obv) with lately – my business associates are already crossing me out because of this, she even called two of my close friends from the government.''

At this time, his company was on knees – he had invested a vast sum of money in a huge, promising real estate and because of the slowness of burocracy in our country he had no way of sealing the whole deal, thus being uncapable to optimally run the finances of the company. But the company was least of his matters.

''If you ask how did it start, it didn't start two weeks ago – it was while you and your brothers were infants when the first fights ocurred – after she called me by the name of one of her exes during a fight, I knew I was flogging a dead horse (a colloquial expression in our country, running a dead race). After this incident, I turned all my powers to raising you and your brothers properly and running the business. Her I tried to keep calm and submissive by buying her things – I thought this was the proper tactic. If you look at her from a distant corner, with all the things (presents...expensive watches, pearl necklaces, cars and all the other fake shit women dig) she has I think you too can see she isn't satisfied as a person let alone with me. I'm unable to further continue on buying her stuff anymore nor trying to please her, I think I have to do something radically different. I would have done this earlier but waking up every morning I would think of the life you and your brothers would live without my presence and I couldn't do it – I had to wait until you grew – but now you are a man and you can handle anything which comes your way.''

At that time I wasn't ready - the first year of college I skipped classes, eventually falling most of the exams because of the extreme depression blows, and my fathers' divorce trial took away from him most of his assets. He was left only with his business because my moms' attorney told her, logically, if you share the profits you have to share the debts. The crazy she is, she still wouldn't sign to a deal like this. My father had to give up the mansion (this wasn't a surprise, the mansions' legal owner was her, even though my father built it with his bare hands – he couldn't risk losing it if he bancrupted as a person) and go back living with grandmom and granddad. The society victimized my father as our community isn't a large one and the people were glad to see a once succsessful man on the brink of disaster, wheras my mom played her victim role flawlessly. Nowdays I think she immersed herself so much in to the role she started ACTUALLY believing it as I can't see the tinies bit of remorse in her eyes.

...But after this period (5 years from then), everything turned upside down. It was like a cosmic rebellion to put things back in its place. I found TRP which raised me while my father was dealing with the combat of his life for survival, and after starting to lift I found a way to release my pain. I was inspired by George Leeman who stated once in a video that he puts himself in a rage mode prior to deadlifting by thinking of his little brother (who died) as if he was to rescue him. The same way, I lift the iron from the ground to mentally help my father in his combat. I'm still studying (successfully), finding my own ways, no longer burdened with the past. However, the story really isn't about me, but about my father. This is the day I have been waiting to say – my father resurrected as a phoenix because they couldn't destroy his abilities. For the New Years' Eve he is travelling to one of the most popular winter destinations with a younger chick, and to all of you who think RP is full of shit – my father is 50 years old and still rocking, doing everything he wished to do when he was powerful af. The company is not as big as it used to be, nor does he have the energy of a 30 yo, but it's debt-free and he earns enough for him to travel somewhere once in a while, eat well and all other things – also, he doesn't have stress as he use to (sleeps well), and he doesn't give a shit for people who shame him for having younger chicks. Me and my brothers' thriving also gives him a great sense of pride. What Socrates once said: “Anytus and Melitus may kill me indeed; but hurt me they cannot.”

LESSONS LEARNED: The divorce rape is real af.