I Can Finally Say That I Hate My Parents
At this point, I can honestly say I don't love them anymore. I used to. I used to love them and wonder why they didn't love me like other parents loved their children. I used to think they were just so horrible because of me, that my very presence caused them to behave like that. They told me they hated me and then they told me they loved me. They told me it was my fault they were unhappy. I used to want to die just so everyone would be happy again.
My mother abused me verbally, emotionally and physically from when I was 7 until I left home for good at 19. She would slap me, hit me, kick me, pull my hair, grab my ears and pull, throw things at me, hit me with things, and once she threatened to kill me with a kitchen knife. She told me she wanted to kill me, and that if I was gone everything would be better. She always called me names. Even when I was too young too really understand what they meant. She told me I was a selfish *****, that I was stupid, ugly, fat, smug, evil, a sl*t, that I would be hated by everyone who met me because I was so awful and stupid. She told me I did things jsut to ruin her life or hurt her... like saying ouch when she rushed me hair or when I asked her to play with me. She told me when I was little that if I didn't stop being horrible she wouldn't like me anymore, but she might still love me. She would get explosively and violently mad over small things I did wrong, like spelling mistakes or breaking a glass. If my dad caught me crying about my mum, he'd bring it up with her, and then she'd hit me or scream or whatever because I'd made her look bad. She hurt me in so many ways. I am still never going to be good enough or thin enough or smart enough or successful enough for her. She pretends all the things she did never happened. If I bring it up, she says that I'm lying or I imagined it or it was just discipline and I am blowing it out of proportion and am ungrateful because I don't appreciate all the 'discipline' that made me the good person I am. Bulls**t. She didn't deal with her own issues, she didn't stand up to my dad, she didn't stand up to his daughters, she wasn't happy and didn't do anything to change it. So she took it all out on me. And I know she will never acknowledge it or apologise. The last time she hit me I was 19. She hit me because I burnt the caramel sauce. She can't hit me anymore because I have my fiance, and she knows I'm gone now, out of her control. She tries still to have me under her control again though. She says the cruelest things, manipulates and guilts, tries to make me insecure. But she never says it in front of my fiance. I hate her for the spinlessness which made it ok to her to take all her problems out on a small child. And I hate her because she doesn't have the respect for me or the courage to be honest and apologise to me for ruining my childhood. I hate her because she's pathetic, because she tries to hurt me and control me still. I hate her because she is my mother and she should have loved me properly, and now all that we have is just a thin film of lies and fake smiles and this awful fake close relationship that hides all the scars and the pain.
Dad was verbally abusive and neglectful mostly. I mean, he hit me sometimes, but not as often as my mum. Usually for small silly reasons like my mum did, like I walked in fornt of the TV when his football team was losing. His words were the most hurtful thing about him, just like with mum. I'd rather a bruise or a welt any time, rather than the words. He told me I was useless, that I made him sick, that I wasn't as good as his other daughters, that I was fat and ugly and untalented, that I had to validate my existance to his daughters. He never says he loves me when his daughters are around. Back then he knew that his side of the family treated me like dirt (still do). He knew his grandchildren bullied me and called me names and hurt me and called me their 'slave'. He knew his daughters were nasty to me, that they either ignored me or made fun of me in front of other people. He knew they called me fat and stupid to my face. It's been that way since I was born. They didn't like the fact that my dad married someone else, other than their own mother, they hate my mother and so they hate me too. He knew and he saw and he still called my mother and me ungrateful liars when we brought it up with him. He let them do whatever they liked. The sun shone out of his grandchildren, and I was just there to be respsonsible for them, even though they are mostly all older than me. He blamed me for things they did, and punished me for them. He took my toys, my bedroom, my things, and my few cherished sweets and gave them away to his grandchildren. I wasn't important enough. He never had any time for me, he thought I was pointless. He talked for hours with people about his other daughters, but when asked about me he'd say "oh, she never does anything'. I was always a straight A student, all my teachers loved me, I was talented and nice, but he only ever told people made up or exaggerated stories about me doing embarrassing or stupid things. All the while telling them wonderful stories about his other daughters. My fiance said something that really clicked with me about my dad... that he acts like a distant step-father rather than a real dad. And he does. These days, he tells people that he's the reason I turned out so well. He tells them I'm a talented painter and writer, but he hasn't seen anything I've done since high school... and even then he told me it was 'cr*p'. He touches me now, when for my whole life previous I can't remember him hugging me more than once a year for show. I can't help but flinch when he hugs me or pets me or palys with my hair. He sees my reaction, but he never stops. I hate him for being spineless and not standing up for me against my mum or his daughters or his grandchildren. They were more important, they had to like him, so him couldn't rock the boat. I hate him because he never showed me any love or kindness. I hate that he pretends he made me who I am, because I made me who I am, in spite of him and mum. I hate him because he saw his own brother being inappropriot with me and did nothing. He said 'Oh, I probably should have said something, but anyway' in this voice like he'd seen my uncle not flush the loo. 'But anyway'? Your own brother is rubbing his groin on your child and you go 'but anyway'?
I hate them both. And I can't love them anymore. Love is earned. Respect is earned. Even parents have to earn the right to be in your life and your heart. They have done nothing but betray their position as parents. And I have a new family now, my fiance. I have finally found someone who treats me like a human being, not a whipping post. I have found someone who doesn't ransom out their love, or hurt me and then use love as an excuse. I've found someone who takes care of me and loves me and respects me. My mother is trying to take him away from me, but she can't. I have a new family now that is strong and secure. Its only two people, but its safe and wonderful. And no-one can hurt me anymore, least of all my parents