Reasons Why I Hate My Father

ill start this out with a little backround info.

so my my mother and father met in anchorage, alaska in the seventies. my moms upbringing was with 3 other siblings in a 2-parent household, 2 sisters and 1 brother. my dads upbringing was with 3 other siblings in a 2-parent household, 2 brothers and 1 sister. they are both the oldest sibling. my dad went to nam sometime before then in order to avoid trouble with the law. he is from southern california. my mom went to alaska after graduating high school to flee a turbulent home, as her father, my grampa, was an abusive drunk. she is from western washington. my dad was getting into carpentry and my mom was waitressing when they met. he was 30 and she was 19.  they looked like they were having lots of happy fun times, like they loved oneanother, in old photos i have. my mom had had a few abortions before meeting my father and giving birth to my older sister, so it was a big deal for her to want to start a family. 2 years and 2 months later i was born in 1984. shortly after, they split up. mom had to move back to washington and dad moved to hawaii.

im just another product of a single mom household. up untill the age of 11, my mom, and sister, and i moved around the south puget sound constantly for whatever reason. during that time, my sister and i would periodically visit dad (not in hawaii) during the summer months. at some point, dad moved from hawaii to seattle under an assumed name for unclear reasons. mom told me years ago that it was because he failed being a coke dealer, but she hates his guts, so i dont know for sure. while in seattle, he met a blonde woman with a son and had two more kids, a boy and a girl, my half brother and sister. the five of them moved to wisconsin for some reason and started a life in the midwest. when my half bro and sis were at the ages of about 7 and 5, dad and the blonde ***** split up. dad moved back to socal. mary, (blondie) and the kids stayed in wisconsin in the victorian house that my dad restored. the only thing my dad has ever been good at is carpentry. some years went by.

in summer 1994 when i was 11, i was a skinny kid. but moreover, a kid. my dad calls me up out of the blue one day and asks me if i want to live with him. up until that point i had good memories of him from our visits. as a kid, i had no idea that my mother was constantly battling drug addictions and being an overly-permiscuous drunk to try to feel better about her ****** up life. my dad didnt even run it by my mom first that he wanted me to live with him, he asked me directly. right away i go fantasizing about fun filled father son adventures, images of happiness. dad was on his way to live in central ohio, where his successful brother was living it up. i went with. we moved into a newly constructed ground floor apartment a few miles from where his brother lived in a swanky upperclass neighborhood next to the famous muirfield golf course. i had a **** of a time adjusting to the midwest the whole time. i did not fit in with anybody. though i tried and tried, i coudnt make a single descent friend. i got fat quickly. that made it worse. while living at the apartment, i went to the olentangy k-12 school, which was huge, which was very different for me. so i was being pretty much tortured at school for not being from ohio, for looking different, and now for being fat. that was the sixth grade. dad held me back in sixth grade because my grades sucked. my grades always sucked, but my mom never held me back, so to not damage my confidence and/or self-asteem. dad threw those valuables in the trash.

after that, dad got way close to his brother's neighbor's sister; an assertive, obese, hardcore christian single mom with her oldest kid out on her own and her 18 year old son about to leave home. and a big home it was. 3 stories, 4 bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths, and a 2 car garage. dad used to have good taste in women. i think he lowered his standards. my mom and mary were pretty attractive ladies, from what ive seen in old photos. this new woman, my stepmother technically, is a beast in comparison. shes bat-faced and shaped like a fat egg. she tried her damnedest to make me into what i think she thought she failed at turning her kids into. and with my dad horribly failing at being a father while doing nothing to halt kathy's demoralizing march she had me on, it was stressfull to say the least. i was their damn maid. for a few years my chores were to thoroughly wash all 3 bathroom, dust everything, wash all the windows and mirrors, vacuum and/or sweep all the floors, mow the lawn, shovel the snow, pick up kathy's ****-eating dog's big turds, and then feed and water it. EVERY WEEK. (depending on the seasons of course)this one time, i got in trouble for lying and they made me write out, "i will not lie" 1,500 times. that gave me time to think and dwell on ways to get away with lying. another time, i got in trouble for stealing, so they made me write out, "i will not steal" 1,500 times. that gave me time to think and dwell about how to get away with stealing. like any normal kid, i wanted stuff. the stuff i wanted was not astronomically priced and would have pointed me in a more positive direction. that stuff was a drumset, a computer, and an atv. i didnt ask for them at once or anything bratty. i just remember being denied those specific things. so i dont get what i want, but they do. during that time, they bought a brand new chrystler sebring, new asphault driveway, remodeled the house, brand new deck spread, dad put in a garden railroad. yes, a toy train set that goes through your outdoor garden. kids love it. i even liked it, i didnt know better. they sat around drinking wine coolers, ******* all the time while i lost all conact with who i was.

i used to snoop around in peoples things. im not proud of it. but i admit to being a nosey theif as a kid. well one day when dad and kathy werent home, i went snooping around in their closet and stuff, looking for dads ****, and again come accross the locked toolbox. ive seen it before, but didnt know where the key was hid. i finally found it under a lamp on their dresser. i opened the toolbox to find a bunch a gnar. first, the removable bits and skrews tray had in it a used glass pipe and a sandwich baggy with about a gram of some crappy looking bud in it and some personal lubricant. i took a small piece of the bud and lifted the tray to find an assortment of sex toys, which was a totally gross find. beyond that, it was nothing i couldnt handle; not a big deal. like an idiot, i left the key out and they found it. they stormed into my room, dad in my face and kathy in the doorway, both of them beet red in the face and raging pissed. my dad, fuming with rage, holds the key up so i can see it and asks me, "what is this?" the moment was so intense i froze up and just waited for him to do what i new he was going to do. he didnt beat me or anything, but he forcefully forced me to the ground with his giant, callaused workers paw- and from there our scuffle we broke into didnt result in physical harm- i cant remember all of it. they angrily exited out of my room with some words said that i cant recall. i grabbed up a dull set of school scissors and wildly slashed at the inside of my left forearm. each cut was like 8 inches long and bled little. if the scissors were sharper, they would have been lascarations. when i get cold, the scars are plainly visable. they called me downstairs after like an hour to meet them at the table. they said nothing about my bloody arm and told me that they bought me a plane ticket to my moms. i felt like cheering, but i instead quietly left the table. i was in olympia, wa a week later, 2 months before the year 2000.

freedom was mine. it wasnt won though. and it came at a tremendous cost. my mom went out of control with her addictions and lost everything; her house, her job, her car, and her mind. shes been sober now for a year and a half. she says she lives with a lot of guilt about how i turned out. but its not so bad, at least i havent killed myself. my moms no saint though. she didnt set very many good examples either. because of her drug-addict tendencies and behaviors, she unknowingly left her kids in the presence of a child predator. my mom took me to a psychiartist after i came back from ohio. midway through the session, my mom brings up for the first time to me that she strongly believes that i was molested at somebodys house in elma, wa. she left me and my sister there for whatever reason back in her coke-snorning days and said that when she saw me again that i had changed. she said i became destructive, short-tempered, and devious overnight. i have no memory of anything like that happening to me, but i was 4 years old. i have read about charactoristical traits of sexually molested persons and i fit the bill. it sucks. i hate my life. its like im waiting for some kind of life changing event to happen to me. and waiting. and nothing happens. but i digress.

around the age of 18, i was doing lots of hallucinogens. it was then that i stopped hating my dad and until several months ago had put aside my animosity towards him. i havent tripped in over 4 years now and im starting to think that it was those hippy drugs that i eased off. for over a year, our phone calls got more and more like lectures and he would repeat himself . he would say again and again that i should join the carpenters union and do the work that he does. not only do i never want to be anything like he is, i cant even hammer a nail in straight. then he start telling me bullshit like, "you are who your friends are."  and saying that i idolize my illiterate, drunk, racist uncle- who was more of a father than my dad. because of my dad, i have emotional problems. because of my uncle, i can work on my own vehicle. so i turned the hate back on.


VomitEnema VomitEnema
26-30, M
Feb 13, 2010