M
MeghanElizC
Guest
I am 21 (female) and still living in my parents’ house. I’m in university and pay my own tuition. My parents don’t make much, which is only relevant because since I was rather young and asked my mom why she won’t leave my father, she always says she can’t afford to be on her own.
I struggle very hard not to hate my father and sometimes I wonder why. He acts irrationally and expects us to pretend it’s okay. I have refused to do so ever since my mom told me a year and a half ago that he has been violent toward her on several occasions. A few she mentioned I knew about, but another time made my stomach turn inside out. She said that it was when we first moved into our house. She was talking to him about the paint when all of a sudden, he lunged at her and wrapped his hands around her neck and threw her up against the wall. He was yelling at her not to talk to him and then he horked all the **** from the back of his throat and spat it in her face. I was five years old then and present when it happened. My mom yelled for me to get in the car but he trapped her in the house. That part I remember. I remember seeing her standing in the garage ferociously pressing the automatic button to make it close on her. I remember other times as well where he got violent like that and we tried to leave. One time he was trying to rip down the car window while we were backing out of the driveway. All of us were screaming and crying and my mom was using the button to try to do up the window.
When I was 15, their fighting was horrifying. I was always scared to step out of line. I didn’t know exactly why I felt the way I did back then, but now I know. I was always so confused and depressed even. I didn’t know how to express myself. I overdosed one night when my mom went to the Stations of the Cross. He isn’t Catholic and was down in the basement sulking like he has been doing my whole life. (My mom told me that when I was born, I cried a lot, so he stopped sleeping in the bedroom with her so he wouldn’t have to deal with me. He’s been sleeping in the basement ever since). I took a handful of my pills (I have Lupus and take a lot of medications to make me feel better). I know I didn’t want to die. I saw it on TV where a girl OD’d and it made her life better, because her family finally saw how she was feeling. I wanted attention, but I didn’t get it. I made myself sick for 24 hours but never needed to see a hospital. I never told anyone that I took the pills. It hardly matters anymore, because I learned how serious and stupid my actions were all by myself. I always feel like I do everything by myself.
Another time I remember laying awake all night. I got in the shower at 5:30 when I finally realized I wasn’t going to fall asleep. I was only half-way through my shower when my dad was pounding on the door for me to get out. He had just gotten home from work and for some reason saw it as a big problem that he would have to wait for a few minutes. When I got out he threatened to kick my ***. He surprisingly apologized later and told me not to tell my mom. I never did. I cried that day at school though when a Catholic man and his wife came to give a speech about family life. It was particularly when he talked about his wonderful relationship with his daughters that I realized I was severely missing something in my life.
Since my mom told me about that specific time when he choked her, I haven’t been able to look at my father without feeling sick to my stomach. He started to notice my preference to avoid him and calling me out for it. I never had anything to say. It just made me scream on the inside. A few weeks ago; however, my brother accidentally broke the back door. My brother already affirmed that he was going to pay for it, but my dad was more concerned about being responsible for figuring out how to fix it. So he did nothing. My mom and I had to find a way to get the door to stay shut so that rapists and murderers couldn’t walk in and hurt us during the night, because he couldn’t care less. When he came up and saw what we were doing, he started to lose it. He kept saying that he was being blamed for everything when that wasn’t true. He thought he should leave the door wide open until my brother got home from work at midnight to deal with. That’s when I finally spoke up and said that the reason that we can’t do that is because someone could come in and kill us before that happens. I got really upset and started to say things along the lines of: other men who were good fathers would care about something happening to his family. He said he didn’t care and because nothing had happened before that nothing would happen then. I started saying the things that I had been wanting to for a year and a half. I said that the way he acts has messed me up in so many ways, that he only thinks of himself, he cares little for his family. He has always ignored me whenever he and mom fight. All he had to say in response was that I never said thank you for my birthday present and that on a couple rare occasions he drove me to school last year. Last week I heard him telling my mom that he hates me. He never apologized for anything, but today he’s back to pretending that he wasn’t acting insane by offering to drive me to work.
I decided to move out this fall into student housing. I don’t like the way that I feel inside. I can’t bring myself to play games anymore by playing nice when there’s nothing in my heart but pain. If I didn’t think there was more out there for me, that God has a plan for me that involves something better, I would want to die. I feel guilty and worry that God isn’t happy with me for not turning the other cheek anymore. But I can’t live like this. This isn’t a life. Will God forgive me for distancing myself form this situation? Will He think that I am giving up? I need advice. I have never told anyone about most of what you’ve just read. I am very lost at this point in my life. Please help me.
I struggle very hard not to hate my father and sometimes I wonder why. He acts irrationally and expects us to pretend it’s okay. I have refused to do so ever since my mom told me a year and a half ago that he has been violent toward her on several occasions. A few she mentioned I knew about, but another time made my stomach turn inside out. She said that it was when we first moved into our house. She was talking to him about the paint when all of a sudden, he lunged at her and wrapped his hands around her neck and threw her up against the wall. He was yelling at her not to talk to him and then he horked all the **** from the back of his throat and spat it in her face. I was five years old then and present when it happened. My mom yelled for me to get in the car but he trapped her in the house. That part I remember. I remember seeing her standing in the garage ferociously pressing the automatic button to make it close on her. I remember other times as well where he got violent like that and we tried to leave. One time he was trying to rip down the car window while we were backing out of the driveway. All of us were screaming and crying and my mom was using the button to try to do up the window.
When I was 15, their fighting was horrifying. I was always scared to step out of line. I didn’t know exactly why I felt the way I did back then, but now I know. I was always so confused and depressed even. I didn’t know how to express myself. I overdosed one night when my mom went to the Stations of the Cross. He isn’t Catholic and was down in the basement sulking like he has been doing my whole life. (My mom told me that when I was born, I cried a lot, so he stopped sleeping in the bedroom with her so he wouldn’t have to deal with me. He’s been sleeping in the basement ever since). I took a handful of my pills (I have Lupus and take a lot of medications to make me feel better). I know I didn’t want to die. I saw it on TV where a girl OD’d and it made her life better, because her family finally saw how she was feeling. I wanted attention, but I didn’t get it. I made myself sick for 24 hours but never needed to see a hospital. I never told anyone that I took the pills. It hardly matters anymore, because I learned how serious and stupid my actions were all by myself. I always feel like I do everything by myself.
Another time I remember laying awake all night. I got in the shower at 5:30 when I finally realized I wasn’t going to fall asleep. I was only half-way through my shower when my dad was pounding on the door for me to get out. He had just gotten home from work and for some reason saw it as a big problem that he would have to wait for a few minutes. When I got out he threatened to kick my ***. He surprisingly apologized later and told me not to tell my mom. I never did. I cried that day at school though when a Catholic man and his wife came to give a speech about family life. It was particularly when he talked about his wonderful relationship with his daughters that I realized I was severely missing something in my life.
Since my mom told me about that specific time when he choked her, I haven’t been able to look at my father without feeling sick to my stomach. He started to notice my preference to avoid him and calling me out for it. I never had anything to say. It just made me scream on the inside. A few weeks ago; however, my brother accidentally broke the back door. My brother already affirmed that he was going to pay for it, but my dad was more concerned about being responsible for figuring out how to fix it. So he did nothing. My mom and I had to find a way to get the door to stay shut so that rapists and murderers couldn’t walk in and hurt us during the night, because he couldn’t care less. When he came up and saw what we were doing, he started to lose it. He kept saying that he was being blamed for everything when that wasn’t true. He thought he should leave the door wide open until my brother got home from work at midnight to deal with. That’s when I finally spoke up and said that the reason that we can’t do that is because someone could come in and kill us before that happens. I got really upset and started to say things along the lines of: other men who were good fathers would care about something happening to his family. He said he didn’t care and because nothing had happened before that nothing would happen then. I started saying the things that I had been wanting to for a year and a half. I said that the way he acts has messed me up in so many ways, that he only thinks of himself, he cares little for his family. He has always ignored me whenever he and mom fight. All he had to say in response was that I never said thank you for my birthday present and that on a couple rare occasions he drove me to school last year. Last week I heard him telling my mom that he hates me. He never apologized for anything, but today he’s back to pretending that he wasn’t acting insane by offering to drive me to work.
I decided to move out this fall into student housing. I don’t like the way that I feel inside. I can’t bring myself to play games anymore by playing nice when there’s nothing in my heart but pain. If I didn’t think there was more out there for me, that God has a plan for me that involves something better, I would want to die. I feel guilty and worry that God isn’t happy with me for not turning the other cheek anymore. But I can’t live like this. This isn’t a life. Will God forgive me for distancing myself form this situation? Will He think that I am giving up? I need advice. I have never told anyone about most of what you’ve just read. I am very lost at this point in my life. Please help me.