Dad-
I have thought for a long time about our relationship, and it has caused me great pain. Even writing this now, I feel like I have to choose my words carefully, and I already feel uncomfortable, like I’m airing dirty laundry and grievances, like I don’t have the right to say these things that are destroying me inside, and I suppose I have you to blame for that as well.
You have forever damaged so many facets of my existence that it is difficult to even know where to start. My life and my sense of self have been corrupted irreparably because of how you treated and continue to treat me.
You spent the greater part of my adolescence beating up on my mother and me mentally and physically. You made me feel like I was a major part of the problem, like if somehow I shaped up everything would be okay. You took away my voice, my ability to externalize, to contribute. I felt like I was being blamed for something I had no control over, while it was tearing my life and my family apart, somehow it became my fault. The agony of this has been to much to bear. You hurt my mother and I ,consistently, without regret, remorse or concern, and for this I can never forgive you, no matter how much you may be attempting to change your lifestyle.
You humiliated me in front of my peers throughout a time in which gaining the respect of people my age was so important that to this day I have people in my life who will not come over for fear of how you might react. They were and are afraid for me. I don’t think that ever sunk in with you. My friends were afraid to come over for fear of how you might treat me. And now, I don’t invite anyone over unless you’re gone. Think about that. I’m 25, and I’m incapable of having a friend or a girl or anyone over. That is the level of humiliation and lack of respect or simple human courtesy you’ve consistently treated me with.
I’ve felt less than human for so long now. The grief that came from dealing with a violent and chaotic household that led to my longstanding depression has left me emotionally crippled. I am so afraid of the anger that I have stored inside me that I will not let myself feel anything, just so I wont have to feel that.
I’ve come to expect disappointment, take humiliation in stride, not have enough self-respect to stand up for myself when others belittle me, whether seriously or in jest. I find myself agreeing with statements about me that I know to be false, because they were delivered in a tone that I recognize, that I have equated as coming from people who care about me. I have entered into relationships with people who will give me what I’m used to: a lack of recognition and utter contempt for my affections and attentions, and I consistently find these people attractive and worth fighting for.
You’ve forced me into an emotional place where I cannot and will not connect with people, because it’s so threatening. Even my closest friends I keep at a distance and will not share how I’m feeling because the one person who’s supposed to care about how I’m feeling used my feelings as a reason to blame his failing marriage on me. Can you understand how fucked up this has made my interactions with people?
And forget about anger. I cannot and will not get angry at anyone, because if I let myself touch that pool, I’m honestly afraid that I will not be able to stop until whatever unwitting person is on the receiving end of it is a bloody mess. You see, in my world, confronting someone means rage and probably violence.
Did it feel good to smack me around when I was holed up in bed with a broken arm? Did it make you feel powerful to make my mother watch that? Did you actually get some sick gratification from it, you sorry son of a bitch?
How about yelling at me in front of all of my friends, threatening them repeatedly, until they wouldn’t hang out with me anymore? Did it make you feel better when I had no friends? Does it make you feel strong that I don’t have but one or two now?
I can’t even talk to you. I spit my words with as little venom as I can to avoid actually spitting. And you have the nerve to ask for affection from me? Who the hell do you think you are? You’re wrecked me, and you either are too stupid to notice or honestly don’t give a fuck. You think that I don’t want to tell you about my day out of some sense of rebellion or something? You don’t deserve to know what’s going on my life. My life is day after day of working around a minefield of built up bile and anger, sometimes it’s amazing I can get through the day.
You think my depression was arbitrary? That somehow school wasn’t up to my precious standards? My home was being torn apart, and the only attention I got was either to be blamed for it or to be on the receiving end of abuse of any number of different types. And even spiraling into a potentially suicidal depression didn’t faze you. You still thought therapy was bullshit, that I was faking, and had to drag me kicking and screaming (you remember that don’t you, kicking and screaming, literally) to school.
You think I stayed at Urban til all hours of the night cause I liked doing homework? It was because it was somewhere that wasn’t home. Somewhere that didn’t reek of pain and suffering and frustration and anger, somewhere where people actually cared about me. I didn’t know what that meant, and on some levels I still don’t.
I have filled my life with people who use me, who don’t respect me and who ignore my need for affection, attention and validation. I don’t feel whole, I don’t feel like the sum of parts and I sure as hell don’t feel like I’m worthy of genuine affection. In fact, I don’t know what I’d do if someone expressed genuine selfless affection toward me, or even whether I’d recognize it as such. It would probably just make me uncomfortable, and I have you to thank for that as well. Because of the situation, I crave affection mainly from those unwilling or unable to give it.