This is a post that I might regret putting out there
I hate my dad. All I can remember about him from my childhood is him having severe anger issues and being a raging alcoholic. Nothing changed about that till this day, but now he's got some health problems on top of everything.
I don't remember him ever taking care of his health. I don't remember him ever caring about his body and from that I learned to not care about mine either. His condition is worse than he expected, and he might have trouble walking and unbearable pain in his back and left leg for the rest of his life. He says he can only get worse from this point on, but I'd like to hold out hope that he's gonna feel better. Not because he deserves it or anything, but it's pathetic hearing him blame anyone but himself for the way he turned out.
A while back I even thought it might be his karma. He made my mom, my sister and I suffer horrible traumas, some things I've been through you can only see in horror movies. So I thought to myself it served him right. He can no longer run towards my mom to grab her from across the room and throw her against the wall. He can no longer punch the windows out from doors and tear them down trying to get to her. He can no longer wipe the floors with my mom. He's lost that power.
Don't think my mom's the saint in this whole story because for the record, I hate her too. Both my parents are immature, stupid, heartless people who cannot grasp the concept of emotion. Maybe I'm in the wrong, but I believe my parents deserved each other. The ones who didn't deserve this mental torment were me and my sister.
I can see it in the back of my mind and every time I close my eyes before going to sleep. My drunk father. Screaming at the top of his lungs at my mom who ended up spending some money out his wallet to buy groceries. She heated up his soup and put it in front of him on the table with a spoon in it. My dad dumps the hot soup across the table and it lands on my mom's lap, then he smashes the bowl on the ground and angrily pounds on the table. He gets up accusing my mom of cheating, spending his money with other men. I remembered how mom bought me a sweater that week. I felt so guilty. She bought one of the expensive yoghurts at the market for me to try for the first time too. It was advertised on TV and I craved it so I aked her for it. I felt so guilty. My dad gets up from the table and grabs mom by the shoulders, shaking her then trying to choke her before she attempts to push him away. I'm peeking through the door. Then I run over to call my grandma to come help. My older sister's in our room crying. She sent me to go look because she can't bear it. I was the brave one anyways. In my eyes my dad was not a good person, he wasn't a person at all. I couldn't see a human behind all that cruelty, I understood very well what was happening. I started crying loudly so he'd stop. After hours of this, my mom still helped that drunk man get to the bed, and sat beside him till he fell asleep. He'd wake up in the middle of the night to throw up, keeping me awake for longer than I was allowed. He was still cursing my mom who was helping him up every time, and cleaned his mess every single time. I understood what was going on. I was six at the time.
I have countless stories like this one, that's why for the first 10 years of my life I didn't have the guts to look my dad in the eye. I don't even remember him. Also, for the entirety of my life my dad only told me he loved me when he was drunk and needed a cup of water. If I refused to give it to him he'd start cursing me. I also started to buy into the nonsense he was saying. Drunk words are sober thoughts, right? So when he told me to die, that I'm as much of a wh*re as my mother and I should go k*ll myself I believed him. When he said I'm a worthless girl who'd never be able to achieve anything in this lifetime I believed him. The thing I heard the most is how much he regrets I wasn't born a boy. That if I was a boy his life would've been different. He would've been happy. I believed him every time. Not even once did he remember what he said to me the next day, and I always behaved as if I forgave him already.
Daddy's little girl doesn't even have one good memory of her daddy to share. The best time I've ever had was when he was away with work.
One time when he got super drunk with my uncle, they got into a fight in the street. My uncle bailed on him and left him to fight alone. I was a witness to it all and was about to jump to my dad's defense. Next thing I know a bunch of neighbours come and an older boy I didn't know took me to the back yard so I won't see what happens. Then when I run away from him and walk barefoot in the street I see my dad lying in the middle of the street. Those people tried to run him over with their car. I'm saying "tried to" 'cause that's what my mom told me. Everyone was outside, the ambulance, cops, neighbours. I thought he died right then and there. Mom went to the hospital with him and stayed the night. I slept at my grandma's with my sister that night. The next morning my dad came home. Grandma thought it would be a good idea for me to go comfort him. He's my dad after all. I go and look at his beat up face. In my small kid brain all I could think about is how reckless this man is. I couldn't find it in myself to cry at the sight of his pitiful face that day. I couldn't believe this guy was my father. How come I know better than him?
I remember my classmates were very sad when their parents got divorced. I was jealous on them for it. I didn't understand was was there to be sad about, where in my mind the divorce of my parents would have me celebrating. My parents are still together today.
My childhood is haunted by memories of my bad father, while my teenagehood is full of my ignorant mother neglecting me. More bad things keep popping up every single day. I remember every single point in time when they did me wrong and I don't know what to do with that.
I grew up to trust no man, to think love is a lie. I study like crazy so I can be an independent woman. I advise my friends to not trust boys too easily and run away if there's any red flag at all.
I'm deeply afraid of people, I'm afraid to look them in the eye. I can't speak, I can't go anywhere without wanting to crawl into a hole. All thanks to my amazing parents. All thanks to the people who created me.
At the same time I feel bad for my dad's condition. I feel bad for the limits my mom pushed to be able to get an education and a new job. I feel sorry for him. I'm always angry, but I still get happy when dad buys me watermelon or any type of fruit.
You see.. one time he cut an apple for me and it was the first nice thing he ever did for me. That was when I just started highschool 4 years ago.
I couldn't care less about his money but that's all he ever thinks about. If he's giving me a decent life and a roof over my head then he assumes I should be happy. Despite calling him my dad I never had one for more than 3 days a week when he wasn't drunk or hungover. I hope someone's reading this right now and thinks twice about their boyfriend, the guy they say they wanna marry or the person you're completely in love with. No child on this earth should experience this. No one else should have to be me. Good luck I guess..
I don't remember him ever taking care of his health. I don't remember him ever caring about his body and from that I learned to not care about mine either. His condition is worse than he expected, and he might have trouble walking and unbearable pain in his back and left leg for the rest of his life. He says he can only get worse from this point on, but I'd like to hold out hope that he's gonna feel better. Not because he deserves it or anything, but it's pathetic hearing him blame anyone but himself for the way he turned out.
A while back I even thought it might be his karma. He made my mom, my sister and I suffer horrible traumas, some things I've been through you can only see in horror movies. So I thought to myself it served him right. He can no longer run towards my mom to grab her from across the room and throw her against the wall. He can no longer punch the windows out from doors and tear them down trying to get to her. He can no longer wipe the floors with my mom. He's lost that power.
Don't think my mom's the saint in this whole story because for the record, I hate her too. Both my parents are immature, stupid, heartless people who cannot grasp the concept of emotion. Maybe I'm in the wrong, but I believe my parents deserved each other. The ones who didn't deserve this mental torment were me and my sister.
I can see it in the back of my mind and every time I close my eyes before going to sleep. My drunk father. Screaming at the top of his lungs at my mom who ended up spending some money out his wallet to buy groceries. She heated up his soup and put it in front of him on the table with a spoon in it. My dad dumps the hot soup across the table and it lands on my mom's lap, then he smashes the bowl on the ground and angrily pounds on the table. He gets up accusing my mom of cheating, spending his money with other men. I remembered how mom bought me a sweater that week. I felt so guilty. She bought one of the expensive yoghurts at the market for me to try for the first time too. It was advertised on TV and I craved it so I aked her for it. I felt so guilty. My dad gets up from the table and grabs mom by the shoulders, shaking her then trying to choke her before she attempts to push him away. I'm peeking through the door. Then I run over to call my grandma to come help. My older sister's in our room crying. She sent me to go look because she can't bear it. I was the brave one anyways. In my eyes my dad was not a good person, he wasn't a person at all. I couldn't see a human behind all that cruelty, I understood very well what was happening. I started crying loudly so he'd stop. After hours of this, my mom still helped that drunk man get to the bed, and sat beside him till he fell asleep. He'd wake up in the middle of the night to throw up, keeping me awake for longer than I was allowed. He was still cursing my mom who was helping him up every time, and cleaned his mess every single time. I understood what was going on. I was six at the time.
I have countless stories like this one, that's why for the first 10 years of my life I didn't have the guts to look my dad in the eye. I don't even remember him. Also, for the entirety of my life my dad only told me he loved me when he was drunk and needed a cup of water. If I refused to give it to him he'd start cursing me. I also started to buy into the nonsense he was saying. Drunk words are sober thoughts, right? So when he told me to die, that I'm as much of a wh*re as my mother and I should go k*ll myself I believed him. When he said I'm a worthless girl who'd never be able to achieve anything in this lifetime I believed him. The thing I heard the most is how much he regrets I wasn't born a boy. That if I was a boy his life would've been different. He would've been happy. I believed him every time. Not even once did he remember what he said to me the next day, and I always behaved as if I forgave him already.
Daddy's little girl doesn't even have one good memory of her daddy to share. The best time I've ever had was when he was away with work.
One time when he got super drunk with my uncle, they got into a fight in the street. My uncle bailed on him and left him to fight alone. I was a witness to it all and was about to jump to my dad's defense. Next thing I know a bunch of neighbours come and an older boy I didn't know took me to the back yard so I won't see what happens. Then when I run away from him and walk barefoot in the street I see my dad lying in the middle of the street. Those people tried to run him over with their car. I'm saying "tried to" 'cause that's what my mom told me. Everyone was outside, the ambulance, cops, neighbours. I thought he died right then and there. Mom went to the hospital with him and stayed the night. I slept at my grandma's with my sister that night. The next morning my dad came home. Grandma thought it would be a good idea for me to go comfort him. He's my dad after all. I go and look at his beat up face. In my small kid brain all I could think about is how reckless this man is. I couldn't find it in myself to cry at the sight of his pitiful face that day. I couldn't believe this guy was my father. How come I know better than him?
I remember my classmates were very sad when their parents got divorced. I was jealous on them for it. I didn't understand was was there to be sad about, where in my mind the divorce of my parents would have me celebrating. My parents are still together today.
My childhood is haunted by memories of my bad father, while my teenagehood is full of my ignorant mother neglecting me. More bad things keep popping up every single day. I remember every single point in time when they did me wrong and I don't know what to do with that.
I grew up to trust no man, to think love is a lie. I study like crazy so I can be an independent woman. I advise my friends to not trust boys too easily and run away if there's any red flag at all.
I'm deeply afraid of people, I'm afraid to look them in the eye. I can't speak, I can't go anywhere without wanting to crawl into a hole. All thanks to my amazing parents. All thanks to the people who created me.
At the same time I feel bad for my dad's condition. I feel bad for the limits my mom pushed to be able to get an education and a new job. I feel sorry for him. I'm always angry, but I still get happy when dad buys me watermelon or any type of fruit.
You see.. one time he cut an apple for me and it was the first nice thing he ever did for me. That was when I just started highschool 4 years ago.
I couldn't care less about his money but that's all he ever thinks about. If he's giving me a decent life and a roof over my head then he assumes I should be happy. Despite calling him my dad I never had one for more than 3 days a week when he wasn't drunk or hungover. I hope someone's reading this right now and thinks twice about their boyfriend, the guy they say they wanna marry or the person you're completely in love with. No child on this earth should experience this. No one else should have to be me. Good luck I guess..
