I’m just so angry at you Father.

You know, you think you can’t let someone get under your skin after so many years. You think you can be immune to their caustic, intentional remarks, but you aren’t.

It never gets easier to be called slutty, or someone who’s made some bad relationship choices going back 20+ yrs – things you want to forget, but they get rubbed in your face like you did them yesterday and they were to harm them not myself!!!  I fully admit to doing some really stupid things in my early 20’s,  between my lack of impulse control from what I know as Bipolar 2 now and my folks, mostly my fathers’  blatant continuous reminders I would amount to nothing but a travel agent…  I had no self-esteem, none – so how would I know any better then to try and find love without knowing what healthy love was?  How was I to know – I blame stupidity, but stop rubbing it into my face Father, stop.  I have made good choices, decent choices and I have met someone who treats me like gold, I couldn’t ask for more.

You tell me at 42 that my mother was a whore, yes a whore who contracted that std that causes cancer and because of that, I couldn’t be trusted.  So, in your eyes father, I was already a whore, so i was a failure to begin with. I had no chance whatsoever.   You’d think becoming a Dyke would sooth a man’s nerves knowing I wouldn’t be breeding like the bunny my father expected me to be, but then I was an epic failure in that I would not carry on the “family” name.  So no matter which way I turned, I was never good enough.. and in this I realize that I can be polite,  keep quietly cleaning up after him (Can’t eat most of what they eat anyways), he was so snarky, I asked if he would like me to pay for the rent of the fridge or should I get my own? I told him, he will be rid of me soon and not to worry I won’t be a hinderance any longer.

I ran as far away as I could from you,  you called me a selfish bitch for leaving. I called back, I have balls to get away from you.  I’m now back 15yrs later, I felt family obligtion and need for what I thought would be emotional safety.  I have felt anything but loved by him, lectured about how he’s cared about me and worried yet again by my life choices, but love? I don’t think I’ve ever really felt that from you father.. I don’t think I have.  I knew something was wrong with Mum, we all knew that.. so in some ways what she did, I sort of let go, and have forgiven… she’s been snippy with me since I’ve been back, and I know it’s slow dimentia,  but he has no excuse.. never has..he has and still does try to hurt me in the most tenderest of places – I am not worthy of love in his eyes, I’m damaged, whorish goods. Why would someone so nice want to be with me?  Me the whore I will always be, the now failure because of my disability, the barren woman who can’t carry on the family name and the sloth who is incapable of being the housemaid.

I am enraged… but more so, the little girl and the grown woman in me is so terribly hurt, words.. none that are here touch what that man has done to my soul… and  still tries to.  There is always a price with you, well this girl’s soul’s bank is closed and the door shut old man, I have nothing for you – and you will pass not knowing what kind of a decent person I am.  What a pity old man, what a pity.

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