The door slams. My father is home, again, from his nine-to-five. Happy happy joy joy. I’ve locked myself in the basement with a few pretzels, my laptop, and a glass of water. My stomach is sick from anxiety. Tonight cannot be like last night.
Abuse of any kind is not OK. Verbal, emotional, physical, sexual.
Screaming and physically intimidating your daughter until she literally vomits from fear. Encouraging your 6ft, 280 lb alcoholic girlfriend to do the same until your daughter slumps, cornered into the wall, looking up at you with eyes red from crying, gobs of snot dripping down her face, begging you, Please, make it stop, while you watch with a stare that that reeks of sadistic pleasure. Not OK.
His girlfriend, who I will from now on refer to as The Hulk, insulted me with every obscenity she could think of last night. Bitch. Spoiled whore. Piece of shit. From what I’ve seen, a fucking idiot, who would believe you’re smart? Worthless cunt who came here to take advantage of her father…
Take advantage of what? His great generosity? His forgiving and open mind? Heart of gold? Yes, clearly. It wasn’t about coming here to take care of him after his surgery when he couldn’t walk or drive. It wasn’t about me hoping for a brief respite from being homeless (You deserved to be alone and homeless, you little bitch), or to reconnect with him and his side of the family. It wasn’t about me hoping to make my father see me differently. As a daughter to be proud of.
He texted me this morning, “YOU ARE NOT THE VICTIM HERE!” My dad plays the constant victim, and he’s had a lot of “success” doing so. I do not want to see myself as a victim. Victims are helpless, unable to change their fate. Seeing myself as a victim is un-empowering. Right now, the most empowering thing I could do for myself is to get a job and leave. I’ve been applying everywhere to do so.
When we were out to dinner one night, he told me he has “problems with intimacy.” He clarified to me that he didn’t mean intimacy as in sex – he meant in having intimate, close relationships. Loving people.
I see that now. And I see that there is nothing I can do to earn his love.
I feel some relief in allowing myself to not want to, anymore, though it is hard to accept.
(If anyone else reads this and has been struggling with simliar issues or knows what it’s like, please like or comment. Abusers can’t be fully successful if you know they’re wrong. It’s when you think that their actions and words are justified that you’re really in trouble. I know this because I used to think this kind of behavior was normal. I still struggle with telling myself that it’s not my fault, that I do not deserve it like my father says I do. What I’m coming to realize, is that an abuser’s behavior has little to do with you, and simply a result of their own unhappiness, anger, and misery. Which is something you or I can never fix.)