My life hasn't always been sunshine and rainbows like I let people believe. I come from a dark past, an abusive past, both mentally and physically. But I do not want to hide my past for it is what made me who I am to this day. I am not proud of my past nor am I ashamed. We all have a past, some worse than others, but we all go through tough times to make us who we are. That's just how life is. It just so happens, that my past of pain lasted 16 years until I was set free.
Now, before I get into deep into this and start going on about how much I hate my father, which I do, I want to say he did care at one point and did make me feel loved at one point in my life. But as I got older that seemed to have faded. I honestly mean no harm by writing this. I'm not writing this so I can go "Fuck you dad, you're a huge piece of shit." I'm writing this because I know other people are going the same thing I am.
My father had his ups and downs when it came to me, more downs then ups but that's beside the point. He wasn't the world's best father but he wasn't the worst, a close second, but not the worst. I never really knew how bad my dad was until after I began homeschooling. Actually, up until that point my dad was my idol, and I was the biggest daddy's girl you could ever meet. He was my everything and I was his. I remember when I was little, me and my dad would do everything together. We'd watch my favorite movies and TV shows. We'd play games, go for motorcycle rides, ect. We never went out to do anything unless we were riding around town, and I completely thought that was normal. I already had a rough childhood due to his bad heart and my mom getting sick when I was 6. I never got to really do anything the other kids did. I never went to father-daughter dances. I really never went to birthday parties. I just stayed home, like my dad.
I had a "good" life up until my mom got sick. When she got sick, it was just me and my dad. Well actually, it was me and a bunch of people I had no idea who the hell they were. My dad literally left me with a bunch of his friends from the biker club. And he only stepped up and somewhat came around when my mammaw died because my uncle got shitty with him and had the talk that if anything were to happen to my mom, I'd be living with him. Which is fine because my uncle was like my grandfather and he was always there for me.
I never really knew about the drugs until I saw it myself. I was homeschooled 7-9th grade and I learned a lot those years. I saw the real him. I saw the sadness in my mother's eyes. I saw the monster that was my father. All these years, I thought my dad was the best dad ever, but really I was a dumbass blinded by lies. My father was the type of man who would rather just hand me money to go do something than go with me, and when I'd make him go he'd bitch the whole time, so really it was a lose-lose situation.
My father never physically abused me, for it was mainly mental and emotionally abuse. Yes, he had times where he would beat me and I never really thought it was abuse since he would always tell me "It's your fault. I'm just disciplining you." or the good ol' "It's with a belt so it doesn't count. I hit you with an open hand so it's not abuse." Yes, I know parents discipline their kids with belts, but there is a line between that and abuse, and oh how my lovely father crossed it. And that famous line he used, how could I forget those words he'd always tell me, "It's hurting me more to beat you than it's hurting you." Well, then don't be an abusive cunt. He'd really only get really bad when he was withdrawing from his drugs, and while I was little I never knew he did drugs. He would always tell me that his body was hurting and it was just a bad day. He would always cover up the bad side of him. It worked, until I got worse with my depression. Now it's no secret that I've had depression since my mom got sick. I mean wouldn't you if your best friend was on her death bed, while your only parent was out getting drunk and high while you're at home crying and begging every and any adult to take you to see your mom because your father wouldn't?
My father would often bully me and make fun of me for being overweight and getting my gastric sleeve done, but the funny thing is, he has a gastric bypass done for the same reason. My father would always use excuses like how he was joking or how he didn't mean it. Well I knew deep down he did. And because I knew he did, I resorted to self harm. What I did to make me feel numb from his words and actions soon became and addiction that I needed every day. I remember trying to tell my father about my self harm and he goes, "Are you fucking mentally retarded?" It took all I had in me to go, "No dumbass, I'm mentally abused from your rude ass."
I didn't know about his drug addiction until recently. I knew about how he'd use perks for his pain and it was only a few here and there, but boy was I so wrong. When he was younger, he used to do cocaine and when he got to old to keep up with that, he resorted to snorting his percocets as replacement. When we would go out to restaurants, he would always have to go to the car right after he ate, and I thought it was because he was having dumping syndrome and again, oh boy how I was wrong. He went to the car to get high. And when we would go on vacations, he would always run out of his pills and have his friends send him some, but oh those extras didn't even last him. If we took road trips, we'd have to stop every hour, just so he could go get high and avoid his withdraws.
A few years ago, we had a huge drug bust in my county and from knowing what I know now, I'm actually dumbfounded on how my father managed to not be one of the ones that got thrown in jail. Especially since a lot of the people who got busted were his "closest" friends. Actually, when they had the bust, my father started shit talking all of those guys. He talked about how they were low lives and deserved to be in there, but like he did the same shit they did, so it must have been all a show he put on for me to make me think he was Mr. Perfect Dad. Which I never will.
In July of 2016, he moved out of the house and got his own apartment. In September of 2016, my parents' divorce was final, meaning my mom and I were finally free. The only time I go see my father is to get my child support and that's it. No random visits or plans. I have people tell me all the time how I need to make plans and do things with him because if anything were to happen to him and he were to die, I'd regret it. Actually I wouldn't. I have tried making plan and doing things with him, but he always cancels. He didn't even wish me a happy birthday until I texted him and got upset. He never calls or texts me, so I never call or text him. I'm tired of trying to have a relationship with a man who doesn't want to put in effort. Why should I be the only one trying? That's not fair to me. I do not love my father, nor do I hate him. I simply have no emotions towards him.
I have learned so much from being the daughter of a drug addict. What have I learned? Well, for starters, it's not my fault, it never has been and it never will be. It's not my fault that he'd rather stay home and get high than go do something with me. It's not my fault when he would beat me from his withdraws. It's not my fault that he's a piece of shit and won't change to be healthier. I learned that I can not change him. I can not help him get healthy. If he wants to damage his body then let him. I learned that I do not have to grow up to be like him. Like my father, I tend to fight fire with fire and I have an addictive personality, but I refuse to be as negative as him. I refuse to turn to drugs to escape my pain. I refuse to harm myself anymore than I have already. If my father ever taught me anything, it was to better myself to not be like him.
My mom constantly blames herself for my pain because she stayed with him and second guessed herself. She wanted me to have something she didn't, a father daughter relationship. But I'm here to say, it's not her fault. It never has been her fault and it never will be. My mom is a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman and how she ended up marrying a scumbag like him will forever make me wonder. But out of all that bad my father has done, he did 1 thing right, he gave my mom, me and vise versa. I love my mom more than words can describe. Yes, she may have set herself free a little late, but all that matter is that she did it. She not only did it for herself, but she did it for me.
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