Continued
My father ruined my fucking life. I'm pissed the fuck off. Don't get me wrong- I know that "ruined" is a final term and I know it aint over yet- but damn man. My life is so much fucking harder b/c of him. I just don't have that fight in me like I used to. It takes SO MUCH energy to combat this horrible negativity that he instilled in me. I revert back to it whenever things don’t go my way. It's horrible. I hate him. I fucked up last night. I emailed J. I sat and stared at the email on my screen for about 30 minutes. It was like I was looking at myself about to make this mistake and I just couldn't stop myself from doing it. And you know- I say that it was a mistake to send that email. I say it b/c to engage w him in anyway is a mistake. Nothing good will ever come of it. But I needed to send that email. I just needed to do it. I needed to get it out of my system. This is what I wrote:
“I wish you’d just be sorry for what you did. All the tension could be erased. We could go back to coexisting pleasantly. I apologized 100 fucking times. I never claimed to have done everything right. I don’t understand how you could not be sorry for what you did to me. I just don’t get it. Your “sorry I crossed the line” was not an apology for what actually hurt me. I know you know that. I’ve said it exhaustively. I’ve explained myself time and time again. My hurt comes from the way you left, not the fact that you were ever there. And its not that you left, it’s how you did it. You know that. You're a therapist- there is absolutely no way you don't know what you did. You did me so grimey. How can you not be sorry? I just don’t get it. I never will. I’m a person. I matter. How could you treat another person that way and not be sorry? I’ll never fucking understand it. Never. I guess that’s just my cross to bear. We all have them.”
I mean every fucking word of that email. Every word. I hate knowing that people like him are in this world. But you know what? That letter wasn’t really to him. That’s what I really want to say to my father. Obviously not the part about the specifics of what he did- but the feelings. He screwed me too. He screwed me first. And then he spent the rest of my life telling me it was my fault and I believed him. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I want to smoke pot right now instead of do the work I need to do for my career- which I love but I can’t seem to get into b/c life just feels so fucking hard all the time. He never said sorry- he repeatedly told me it was all my fault. Why couldn’t he just be sorry for what he did to me? I’m a person. I matter. How do you treat a child that way? How to you treat a human being that way? I’m so mad. Why couldn’t things just be better for me? Why couldn’t I have come from normal fucking people? I am the spawn of a sociopath.
My father is a sociopath. I was talking to a friend the other night and I equated J and my father and as I was doing so I said “but my father isn’t a sociopath” and then I paused. Yes he is. And something about actually calling him that word really affected me. For me- when I say sociopath it’s like saying someone is beyond cure. I don’t know if that’s accurate or not but that’s the connotation the word means to me. When I finally said that about him it really affected me.
I always thought that if I just worked harder I could fix him. I know that statement is dripping in codependency. But that’s really how I lived my entire life. Trying to fix everyone. “Little miss fix it” like my ma calls me. Fuck.
Changing a lifetime full of negativity is fucking hard.
“I wish you’d just be sorry for what you did. All the tension could be erased. We could go back to coexisting pleasantly. I apologized 100 fucking times. I never claimed to have done everything right. I don’t understand how you could not be sorry for what you did to me. I just don’t get it. Your “sorry I crossed the line” was not an apology for what actually hurt me. I know you know that. I’ve said it exhaustively. I’ve explained myself time and time again. My hurt comes from the way you left, not the fact that you were ever there. And its not that you left, it’s how you did it. You know that. You're a therapist- there is absolutely no way you don't know what you did. You did me so grimey. How can you not be sorry? I just don’t get it. I never will. I’m a person. I matter. How could you treat another person that way and not be sorry? I’ll never fucking understand it. Never. I guess that’s just my cross to bear. We all have them.”
I mean every fucking word of that email. Every word. I hate knowing that people like him are in this world. But you know what? That letter wasn’t really to him. That’s what I really want to say to my father. Obviously not the part about the specifics of what he did- but the feelings. He screwed me too. He screwed me first. And then he spent the rest of my life telling me it was my fault and I believed him. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I want to smoke pot right now instead of do the work I need to do for my career- which I love but I can’t seem to get into b/c life just feels so fucking hard all the time. He never said sorry- he repeatedly told me it was all my fault. Why couldn’t he just be sorry for what he did to me? I’m a person. I matter. How do you treat a child that way? How to you treat a human being that way? I’m so mad. Why couldn’t things just be better for me? Why couldn’t I have come from normal fucking people? I am the spawn of a sociopath.
My father is a sociopath. I was talking to a friend the other night and I equated J and my father and as I was doing so I said “but my father isn’t a sociopath” and then I paused. Yes he is. And something about actually calling him that word really affected me. For me- when I say sociopath it’s like saying someone is beyond cure. I don’t know if that’s accurate or not but that’s the connotation the word means to me. When I finally said that about him it really affected me.
I always thought that if I just worked harder I could fix him. I know that statement is dripping in codependency. But that’s really how I lived my entire life. Trying to fix everyone. “Little miss fix it” like my ma calls me. Fuck.
Changing a lifetime full of negativity is fucking hard.
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