Don't push me!

6:08 PM Posted In Edit This 0 Comments »
I don't normally talk about my family because I am a fiercely private person. But today, I have been pushed to my limit. The past few years have been nothing but a battle between my father and I. It seems like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it is never good enough for him. I try to be a good daughter, I am mostly always considerate and I attempt to be caring. But it is hard to be caring towards a man who shows no hint of happiness towards you. It's hard to feel compassion for a person who only looks at you with the coldest of eyes. My Mom frequently reminds me that "He is the only Dad I have." I'm well aware of that but yet it doesn't inspire much within my heart.

I will always love my Dad, deep inside my heart, for one reason and one reason only, because it is the right thing to do. I do not like him very much, how could I? How could I like a man who thinks I'm worthless? How could I like someone who dislikes me so much? How could I like a person who has instilled fear in me? I'm terrified of his outbursts, I despise being yelled and I especially hate his names for me. Honestly, I don't think he knows how much his words hurt me. He is one of the few people who is capable of making me cry, and I am not a crier. His words stab at my heart, his outbursts shake me to my core.

Eleanor Roosevelt said "No one can make you feel inferior without your permission." Well, my Dad has mastered that art. He has the ability to make me feel so low, worthless, and terrible about myself. It's as if in a matter of minutes he has the ability to brainwash me. When he gets mad at me, I feel like a terrible person when it should be him who feels terrible. I do everything in my power to never make him upset at me. I walk on egg shells every single day. If he is doing something, I am careful not to disturb him. If he needs help with something, I try to do it in a reasonable amount of time. I'm courteous and amicable but I try to keep the conversation to a minimum. I know when he sees me, it starts a ember of dislike towards me. He has made it perfectly clear that he does not like having me around. Despite those things, I try to be a good daughter.

I don't think he understands what it's like to live with a chronic illness either. My Mom understands, she has lived with people who have been constantly sick. But my Dad, he doesn't get it, he will never understand what it is like to be in my shoes. He will never have to find the strength within himself to keep going when the odds are stacked against him. I also hope that he never, ever gets sick in the way that I do. But if he does, I hope he does not have his family persecute him in the ways I have experienced. I could never treat him in the way he has treated me. Maybe it's because I have more respect for him than he has for me? It doesn't matter how much I dislike a person, I will always try to respect them.

Unfortunately right now, I am at the end of my wits. I have cried, cried, and cried today. I'm not talking about a tiny tear, I'm speaking of giant sobs. Not only have my Dad's words beaten me up, but they keep replaying in my head. I will never understand how a man can show more compassion to the students at his school than he does for his own daughter. I will never understand how someone can hate their own daughter so much. I will never understand how he makes it seem like he is the perfect Dad when he is out in public. It hurts me so much to know that I have disappointed him so much over things that I had no control over. It hurts me more seeing him every day, knowing that he cannot stand to have me in his presence.

I've got too many financial troubles to move out now. Stupid medical expenses. But once I get myself repaired, once I get some money saved in the bank for emergency medical expenses, I'm moving out. It will probably take me a couple of years, that means I get to live in hell for the time being. But eventually I will be on my own, I won't have to tolerate my Dad's hateful look towards me. I will be on my own and he will never, ever be allowed to get mad at me in the way he does. When I have my own place again, I will feel comfortable in it. I will never be made to feel unwelcome ever again.

Oh and I have to say through all of this, my Mom has been a saint. I feel as if she gets stuck in the middle but that's what happens in situations like these.

Bisous!
Loverly Lupie Me

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