my Krystallnacht , the night of the broken dreams.

I have some problems with the sound on my computer...apparently the speakers are gone or something. Looking at all the videos mute and silent and suddenly I realize that there is a blessing in silence and there are certain things that I can write about but I am not sure if I could vlog about.
I am also realizing that there is a kind of predisposition here to present the nice and the acceptable and try to conceal those parts of ourselves that do not look as shiny and as presentational as the ones that we put forward in public. And suddenly I ask myself, what is the purpose of doing this if it is not totally honest? Who do I want to impress? with what and for what purpose? Why it is so scary to tell the truth? Well, I guess the truth can be a horrifying experience and it can always be used against the one who reveals it but I feel that to continue this presentation of a nice guy is a mask that is killing me now, so I have to ask those of you who have reached so far, not to continue if the simple and unadorned truth makes you uncomfortable as there is much pain in my life that needs acceptance and cannot tolerate more games. There so many holes in my presentational persona that I start to feel like a Swiss cheese. And smell the same.
Like this big hole I feel in the place where my father should have been with scattered bitter memories of neglect, harassment, disregard, disrespect, harsh language, beatings and general abuse. I am scanning my childhood for any memories of my father that are not abusive and all I am finding is more and more pain. My mother, who is a Holocaust survivor, is withering away in an elderly folks home and slowly forgetting more and more things and I dread the day she will not remember who I am anymore. I did receive warmth and care from her when I was a child but at the same time I was also painfully aware of how fragile and how incapable she was to protect me from father’s wrath when he decided that it is time to teach me right from wrong, again.
My half sister disowned my mother and doesn't even call her on the phone and it is the woman who raised her and cared for her from when she was 4 until she was 18. So I do not have a sister either even though officially I do. It's not that I feel any pain here and don't really care much as we never really bonded .5 years difference apparently too big a gap for brothers to cross, especially at an early age. Still, sometimes I think how nice it could be if I had a real brother or sister.
I am broke financially, I am burnt out as an art teacher and my personal art is not noticeable enough to draw any attention. I continue to paint because I love doing it but somewhere deep inside I am afraid that I have missed the boat when it comes to express all the many wonderful paintings that are waiting inside to be born. Looking back at my life, I realize that in all those places where I had to fight in order to overcome the obstacles, I have retreated since fighting and aggressiveness are connected with disobeying the higher authorities. Apparently, when the highest authority of the early childhood is an abusive father, what you get is a child who cannot grow up because the abused little boy refuses to leave his hiding place in the caverns of his broken heart. Indeed my heart is broken with a partial ischemia, high blood pressure and clogged arteries. My diabetes is getting worse, my gums cannot hold my teeth in their place any longer and my obesity is not getting any better. I feel powerless to change the downward spiral even though I am fully aware to where all this is leading me. It is supposed to be all connected and apparently it all is and there is some divine providence at work here but I am
just too tired to figure out how and what is the significance of all this.
I am almost 60 and still struggle with surviving issues, like a dropout high school teenager. It was supposed to make me feel younger but instead, it gives me a deep sense of incompetence and great feelings of insecurity. Perhaps life is not supposed to have any meaning and I know that some say we are supposed to give our own meaning to our life but all I can feel right now is an overwhelming sorrow and despair. I know it is my lost will that is talking here but I feel helpless to help myself and at the same time I know that nobody can .Hence the sorrow and despair.
Perhaps it is the memory of a night some 70 years ago when the Crystal dreams of German Jews, broke to pieces in thousands of synagogues signifying a turning point in life of a people where almost every member have lost somebody or every body.