I Have Had Enough

You don't want to believe it as a kid.  You want to believe that your parents are just like everyone else's; loving, caring, and have got your back no matter what.  Well, after nearly 50 years, I can look back and honestly and sadly say that's not the case.  At least not in my dad's case, anyway.

Since it's impossible to ignore, I have come to the conclusion that my father (or the sp*rm donor as I call him) is nothing more than a selfish, stingy, manipulative, cruel, immature, heartless bastard.  If my sister and I hadn't had relatives living on either side of us, I really don't know what condition we'd be in now.  My grandparents and great-uncles cared for us and helped us through our formative years--in short, they raised us.  My father provided food and shelter--THAT'S IT.  He couldn't be bothered with us on a daily basis.  Just don't make too much noise and be good little tax deductions, now.  He did the most heinous, unforgivable, cowardly thing anyone could do--he left it to others to raise his children.  

Everything was a contest, a competition with him.  When kids need money for school (like for field trips), their parents give it to them, no problem.  Not in my house.  dad (he doesn't deserve a capital letter) would make me run his gauntlet of questions:  "What do you need this for?  You mean EVERYBODY in your class has to bring in money?  What if I didn't give this to you, what if you didn't have it?  So stay and clean the blackboard, nothing wrong with that."  I'd have to jump through hoops and dance to his tune every time--and that was still no guarantee I'd get it.    Many, MANY times I'd ask my uncles for what he should have willingly and unquestioningly given--it was so embarrassing.  

Fast forward to today.  Both my sister and I are unemployed thanks to this wonderful economy, and he sits in his newly-furnished home, with a new garage, new car and new truck (thanks to an inheritance he didn't deserve but made sure he got).  He controls all the money in the house, even my mother's Social Security checks.  She has attempted to help us but when he found out, he put a stop to it by calling us "charity cases" (his own children) and telling my mother that our issues were "not my problem."

That did it.  Fine, you uncaring bastard.   As far as I'm concerned, my father is dead.  My REAL father, anyway.  
saralin saralin
Jul 31, 2010