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More Of A Responsibility Than A Father...

At five years old, I had the best Daddy in the world. I was so happy. He used to sing me to sleep, run me around the house making airplane noises, watch movies with me and make me home-made pop corn (the kind where you put a little oil in a big pot and half a cup if corn-curnels in and shake it until all of it pops), bring home wild animals (turtles and ducks etc.) and show me them. He was the best father in the world. He spoiled me rotten. He was my Daddy.

When I got a little older, eight years old, he got sick. Really, really sick. He went into the hospital and stayed there for almost a whole year. He had a stroke, and then he came home. A completely different person. My life got turned upside down. My Daddy wasn't there anymore. It was this selfish, child-like man. A complete stranger. Of course, I didn't realize the extent of the change right away. At first it started out small. Like needing my help and losing his temper if I didn't do what he wanted quickly enough. Getting frusterated if I didn't make his food the right way. On and on. It got a little worse every day. It wasn't all bad, part of my Daddy was there... but it got hidden a lot in his short temper and his new found selfishness. He made my mother and I make two dinners almost every night. His, and ours. He never allowed me to leave the house to visit my friends, because he said he needed me at home. I wasn't always allowed to do my homework, because he needed me to do things for him. Sometimes, if I disobeyed, he would hit me.

My grades slipped. I became socially isolated. And it continued on. I started to go to counseling. I told my counselor, once, that he hit me, and my mum glossed it all over like it never happened. Saying that I lied. I got yelled at and grounded for that. Through the years I attempted suicide a few times. I went into the mental institution four times before I got stable. I lived with my cousin for a while to get out of the bad environment for awhile. Then I got put back in. Presently, my Dad's dying.

I'm a little relieved. I'm also sad. I love him, even though he's put me through hell. Maybe that's just my subconsious that's still attached to my Daddy. The one I knew before he got sick....

I don't really have a moral to my story. But it's good that this group exists to let other people know their not alone when it comes to lack of a decent father figure.
absolutionist absolutionist 22-25, F Oct 29, 2010

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