Long post, trouble coping

I'm not sure if this is the right category, don't write often on this app. There's a lot to unpack, because, I have a lot of things on my mind and very few people I can talk to about these things and how I feel. I was never diagnosed specifically with PTSD, nor my kids...but it undoubtedly applies.
It started in 2017.
I was working at the time in an office. It was decent, I was passionate about what I did. Until I got a message from my ex gf, whom I had two children with, two girls at the time 13 and 8. She told me...my oldest was pregnant. 7 MONTHS pregnant. I could not believe it. She did not have a boyfriend. Was a quiet, stay at home person. As events unfolded over the course of a few months, I learned the entire, horrible story. My ex had been in a relationship with a man for 6 years, they had a son together. That man grew infatuated with my growing girls and, probably using drugs (since neither my ex or the girls had any kind of knowledge of the events, or so me and the police detective in charge of the investigation suspected) raped my eldest and impregnated her. She did not look like a 7 month pregnant girl. She had taken on some weight, but I had assumed it was because she had finally learned what I tried fighting with her since she was a kid, eating more and finishing her plates. Long story short, he was tried and sentenced to 5 1/2 years in jail. My daughter was forced to have the child since abortion was too late when we found out, the child was sent up for adoption anonymously (as, the way the laws work in Canada, the bastard's family or himself would have had rights to the child). For her own protection.
I remembered afterwards that my daughter had told me maybe a year before she felt the man was observing her sometimes. I dismissed it at first as just her imagination, but it worried me enough that the same day, I spoke to my ex privately and asked her if ANYTHING fishy was going on and I told her what my daughter had told me. I could see by the shock in my ex's eyes that she had no clue, but afterwards she admitted to me that THAT conversation is what sparked her observing him more closely and their separation some weeks later. He was addicted to sex, on a crazy scale. She wasn't giving him any, because their relationship was on the rocks. He found it elsewhere. She never actually caught him, but she was worried enough that she separated.
I'm immensely condensing all that happened and the seven years since. I had a proper meltdown. I can't describe everything. But I couldn't murder a man, which I still think about everyday, because I had to be there for everyone. The person I am is...a weird sort. When I was a kid, I was a bum. I had troubles with some gangs, mostly out of self defense because I was bullied for being short and fat and a geek. Which changed me into...almost something as bad. I wasn't a stranger to violence, but I ran faster than the cops could catch me. I got lucky. Ironically, because I wanted to become one. My sense of right and wrong, of justice, was always very intense and I regretted my youth. When I saw my daughter's beautiful eyes for the first time, I fell in love, I knew I could no longer afford to be a less than perfect man and become, like my own dad, a father that she could be proud to call her own. I made it a mission.
It's been a hellish ride. We've had ups and downs. About a year ago, my daughter worried me. She was isolated, really depressed in her dorm room in college and not making any friends, not having the normal life I felt a teenager should have at 20. Neither was I, I've been single and without many friends for years at this point. So, I reached out, found a Discord server that was numerous and who's people were interested in actuality doing real life activities. The purpose was to grow genuine, real connections with people, maybe in my case find love and for her to have the same. It worked. She found her bf there and told me she's never been as comfortable in a relationship as now, which makes me happy. What gave me pause is the man is significantly older than she is...but she's not a typical 21 y old girl anymore. Just like I'm not a typical soon to be 45 year old man anymore. All this aged us way before our time.
So, I've been seeing much less of her. Which is normal and I'm glad, but...I'm not doing very good.
I've known, since I was very young, before I was old enough to even think about sexuality, that there are two things I would never be able to live with; what happened, if I had girls, or the death of my children. I've tried counseling, psychologists, support groups and it hasn't helped. What has helped in the past was opening up to friends. Like talking over a beer when you get to know ppl enough. But being on that server, I can't. My daughter is known there now. I promised her, years ago, that this was HER story to tell. I can't befriend someone on there and eventually talk about all the pain I'm carrying around every day without breaking that promise and I don't break promises, especially that one.
So...for the last few weeks, I've been feeling increasingly more stressed. It wasn't that bad a year ago, but now I feel bottled up. I lost my confidant, she got caught in the hell of drug abuse and had to stop talking to her, since she wasn't listening to me when I told her how her personality was changing. But she used to be the one I shared my feelings with.

Even writing all this, I don't know exactly how to express it. I'm a talking guy, not a writing guy, though I used to write quite well, especially for a french guy in English.
Ever since all of this happened, the only thing that was ever important to me was my girls ' well being. But mine...I don't like life anymore. I'm miserable. I have no passions, I'm not enthusiastic about anything, I just pretend real well for other people's benefits. Life has zero taste, I do activities just to do activities while I'm waiting to die of old age, or a heart attack. The onky thing that does give me some spurt of joy is talking to others, socializing, not sitting in isolation. But this is now a much colder world than the 90's I grew up in and loved. Everything and everyone is online. I go out sometimes on weekends, by myself, into bars and drink quietly alone. All the friends my age have their own lives, young kids. The ppl I met on the server, I can't really talk to without breaking my promise. I also feel guilty about sharing. Because sharing to a friend is asking them to share a part of the burden, if they care for you. This is a heavy burden.
I discovered a tv series that struck ne a few years ago, maybe some of you know it. Firefly. I was watching the pilot episode. That face, when he stares in disbelief at the battlefield, realizing he lost the war and nothing makes sense anymore? I SAW that face in the mirror the day I learned about my daughter's pregnancy. That's the day I lost the war, the only one that matters. I've felt angry, destroyed, confused, enraged, sad beyond measure, since. I'm pessimistic, bitter and have a hard time believing there's any good in the world, let alone how it'll come my way. It's been 7 years when I realized I'd become a less better looking, less intelligent and less courageous version of Malcolm Reynolds and I promised myself I'd be happy again...but I don't know how to do it. I CAN'T FEEL IT. I put it in my head two years ago to find my significant other, the LAST girl, not the next one, two years ago, but as I swipe Tinder or Bumble, put myself up on dating sites and try to express who I am, or was, in 500 characters or less, I realize I don't even know if I am that anymore. If I can actually feel love again, or if I even have something to offer someone anymore, except a burden to share that weighs on me like a ton of bricks. I can appreciate the beauty I see, but I'm likely demi, I'm not attracted to ANY of those static, lifeless images....
So that's where I am right now. I'm kind of lost. I don't know how to move forward, I feel stuck. I don't want to go to therapy again either, you have no idea how angry it makes me when I hear a therapist tell me how wonderful a job I'm doing of keeping everyone and everything together and coping. Because once I leave that office, it's ********. The reality that I live in a world where ny children were raped, that I became a grandfather at 37 years of age to a granddaughter I will likely never know, that I may not WANT to know if her eyes remind me of the man responsible for all this... something that kid isn't responsible of.
Writing all this down somewhat helps to process a little. I still don't know what I'm supposed to do to...be happy. Maybe it's just not for me. Some people get to have happy endings and everything they want. Others, they're just there to help others get there. They end up sacrificing and dying alone and miserable.

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That sounds very tough, I’m sorry you all went through this, it sounds like a nightmare.

I don’t know if this is something that you might consider, but I wondered if some kind of victim support might be available. If you Google it there’s a directory available, to search for your area. Maybe you’ve already tried this but I thought I’d mention it. Your daughter was the main victim but not the only victim of this crime, you and her family were too. You deserve support.

It is a nightmare. A living nightmare there's no waking up from. I wake up every day and remember this. EVERY. DAY. On the good days, I almost feel like a normal human being. On the bad ones, like these last few weeks, I just want to get drunk and forget life. Which I almost never do. Because I don't want to become an alcoholic.
I have zero passion left in life, faith in humanity or hope in the future. For someone who grew up wanting to, watching things like Star Trek, admiring fictional characters like Captain America or Superman for their sense of right and wrong...the only reason I haven't killed myself yet, is that I know my girls love me as much as I do them. They have suffered more than enough, I can't do it to them. But I don't feel like a human being anymore. This built, bulky, angry looking dude who trains every morning at the gym, works nights at the factory and wonders every morning why he doesn't just toss everything away and become a real life version of the Punisher. You'd think after 7 years I'd have had some positives that would have made me actually enjoy life for some reason. But no.
I always placed value and told my girls that as well, that your value as a human being is defined by the quality of the connections you make with other people. And I help them do that.
But...when it comes to me...I want to, but part of me so does not give a toss anymore. I don't know why. Everything just feels so empty.

I was in a group like that as well. Long story short, it didn't help. If I talk about this too much,too often it just takes me back there. I'm trying very hard to move forward and NOT stay back there.
I have about 2 1/2 hours left to sleep before work tonight. Haven't been doing well at all this week. Gym tomorrow morning and I'm planning to go somewhere in downtown Montreal and losing myself in a quiet, low key bar and passing out drunk. I haven't done it in several months. I'm way overdue.

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I know its easy for me to say, but drinking wont help in the long run. Good luck and prayers

No, I appreciate the words. I know that, of course. The problem is really very little helps the long run. I wish I could get this event out of my head, stop seeing it. But I can't. I'm not going to stay home alone and drink. I try to go out and be among people at least. Even when I do find some folk to talk to, I still feel alone, even in the middle of a group. I've seen things they haven't. My daughter felt the same way. Finding her recent bf helped her somewhat put that behind. But I haven't found that yet.

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How are you doing today?

I do understand what you mean about sharing a burden with others. Do any of your friends know anything or much of what’s happened?

Well, I just finished my shift. Sitting in a cold park, thinking. It's not much changed. Then again, you could say that for much of the last 7 years, it's just not as intense all the time.
Very few people know. Most of my family doesn't know. It's not my story to tell, it's my daughter's and I promised her that many years ago.
I'm actually meeting a friend tonight at a restaurant she works with, a younger jid I used to work with I affectionately refer to as my third daughter. I'm debating whether to open up or not. But I really think I need to unload sone things. I'm not sure yet.

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