My dad is so honorable, so deserving of respect, and he does so well with the little he was given in so many ways, but he makes me crazy. We disagree on so many subjects, and he's so fucking pushy about it because I don't argue. I don't argue because there is no point; nobody is changing his mind anytime soon. But also, I bite my tongue because I don't want to have to deal with it, and because I'm afraid of him. He obsesses and obsesses and I would never hear the end of it, plus he's wound so tight, I could see him hauling off and smacking me if I actually said what's on my mind.
Respect is a big issue with my dad. The slightest hint of disrespect from me sent him into a rage. And when I was a teenager, that was often. I dreaded going home, sometimes drove past if I saw his truck in the driveway. I avoided him as much as possible.
I thought he chilled out, but he's only gotten crazier, more isolated, since his divorce. He's going the way of the unibomber. God, what a six! (That one's for you, Jordan.)
Sometimes we're doing really well, and I'm able to be patient and to respect and love him, but then he drops some mean or sarcastic or ignorant or racist comment, or starts up with the antichrist talk - oh god, I could just rant here for pages but I won't. I won't feed this energy, I refuse. It's just, my quills come out and I shove them back in, often stopping midsentence, so my insides are constantly being stabbed. I'm just trying to avoid him, again.
I need to breathe for a few, then I'll try again.
posted by Samus @ 12:28 PM
1 Comments:
Ugh. It sounds tough...having just spent time with my dad (a nine), an experience I now refer to as the "quaker planned parent" in regard to how little he has to say at any given time...I sympathize with the difficulty of fathers.
But I'm glad you're 'alright' now.
xo
J
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