Wow, TGaC. I would give You another rep point if I could. I do not have a similar (violent) childhood but I understand your feelings and reactions quite personally. I have sincere empathy of your accord and I do wish the best for You from now moving forward. I suppose I could recall what this reminds me of in my youth.
Ever since I was a school-goer (kindergarten), I had daddy issues. Not physically violent issues like yourself, but more psychological abuse than anything. Whenever I made a mistake, and it angered my father, He would notify me with disgust: "you have a brain, use it", "did you just break that?!", "be more useful"...
Things like that. I could have spilled juice at breakfast and He would have freaked out. Even in front of everyone, deeply embarrassing me. I could have played outside without any footwear, and He would go nuts even if I did not bring dirt into the house. Sometimes his reactions would make me feel sad or useless, and his response if He knew would be to tell me to "grow up" or "stop pouting like a baby". He was never 1 for compassion. No, He was too macho and cold to show compassion like any close person would. He himself lacked a father figure. His father would smoke and drink and his mother would get bothered by his habits, divorcing them. What pisses me off is wondering why that had to rub off onto me considering if He learned anything from that experience. As in: why do I have to feel the brokenness from his generation, should He not be able or want to make improvements for when He had children? No, myself and my sisters had to put up with his snarling shit.
Anyways, He would not be able to deal with my downfalls and my mood in effect of those downfalls, so I would drift away from him, and everyone in my family really. I just wanted to be to myself, a situation that guaranteed that no one would confront me for what I do, because only I understand myself. My mother is practically the polar opposite of my father, kindness meets hatred. I would be happy around my mother, even if She did annoy me severely. I am not sure why but at this point in my writing I am dripping a tear thinking about it. The 1 thing about my mother that really bothered me is her lack of strength. She could always be there for me for healing, but never confronted my father about his ways and what strain He pushed onto his children.
I never really thought about it much, but I feel really awful for my sisters even though they bother me to valhalla. To think that they are still living in the same house as him, putting up with his shit. It sort of feels like I left them in the mud, not being there to experience the same rage and stress. They showed me a different side when they wished me a farewell when I left for college. Oh, that is another thing. I really wanted to get into university. I really wanted to give myself the highest standards into the future. I passed all of my high school courses without doing any homework, no studying and no practice. I was surprised to get a mid 70 mark in my last year of math. Anyways, I continued to lack interest in school as the years passed. I lacked the spark that made me happy. Eventually my face became that of a frown. A hateful frown. Even now I look into the mirror and see the scars of my youth. I still lack drive. Except for the few things in my life that provided me with experience. Friends whenever We hung out, observing nature in my backyards, some TV shows, and my video games. Those things made me feel different. Happy. I would isolate myself in my room and grind away at my video games, giving me the feeling of accomplishment.
I would have visited friends more often if my mood were better. I never wanted to rub off a bad feeling onto my friends. It would have ruined the experience of playing together. I was a bit of an odd 1 in my elementary school. I always seemed to drift about between groups of friends. 1 week I would be playing with the large group of kids, the next I would be playing with the dorky kids, and the next I would be playing with my small group of best friends. I never understood why. I should mention that I was playing hockey since kindergarten and quit at 11. I quit at 11 because I was losing interest in the sport while the others would always be enthused by hockey. I realized that I never wanted to play hockey. My father did. He got me to play hockey... his favourite sport. He would sit in the basement about every night watching tonight's game. He would get me to watch with him. After a short amount of time, I did not watch to watch anymore, and left. I returned to my video games. At age 10, We moved cities because of a better job opportunity for my father. That, was 1 of my worst times. I lacked the skills required for smooth transition into a strange new place. I left everything behind in my old town. Everything. I had to adapt. When it came to the first day of school in my new city, I struggled. On the very first minutes of the day, it was recess. What does a new kid plunged into recess do? I wanted to have friends, but I lacked the drive and courage to do so. So, I sort of walked into the middle of the yard, and could not help but cry silently to myself. I asked to stay inside for recess. On the next day though, I was so happy that a group of friends, my new elementary and highschool best friends, approached me and asked me to hang out with them. I nervously, yet happily agreed. But even then, We would visit each other and hang out outside of school. But I was slowly losing the drive to hang out with them. It began to halt for me.
When I got to highschool, I was like a rock. What I mean, is that I was about as emotionless as 1. Whenever things happened, other people would react sharply. I would not. People would laugh together, get in fights, smile, act tough, etc... I would not. I drew myself in to a solitary life. I had friends but I would disconnect from them. I eventually left them by myself and the library would become my home at my school. I sat there, by myself, browsing the internet, researching things. I would just feel empty, and I needed something to preoccupy me. Eventually I would become paranoid of other people, anxious of what others would do in the presence of a "loner". I was never bullied in high school. I think that this is because of me being a larger person. Intimidating. To sum, my highschool life was shit.
Now, back to my personal life. From my elementary years, I would develop as a person in a very strange way. At about age 8 to 10, I would really reflect on myself after I experienced the wrath of my father. I would go to my room in solemnity. I would think about how many other people in the world were feeling the same way I did. People that would relate to each other. I wanted to do good for the world of my own desires. I wanted to provide, somehow, someway when I got older so that other people would live better, happier lives. I made a pact with myself, and I still live with it today. I always feel for people when I see them hurt. And I always feel angry at people who do harm to those people. I stood in defence of some of my friends when someone else was harassing them. When someone stole my friend's baseball cap, I confronted that person. When someone was picking on 1 of my lankier friends, I pushed them to the ground. I always felt remorse from having to do these things, though, and it made my pact stronger. I was about as mature as an adult at age 10, and people respected that. They never knew how empty I felt about living, though. 1 day, I was tired after school, and my dad as usual was aggressing everyone and He came after me with accusations and such of the stupidest things. I was not putting up with any shit that day, so I got frustrated. I confronted him with more than double the anger He ever showed. He was intimidated by that, probably because I have so much reserve that I bottled all of that anger from a long period of time. I felt good about that.
My problem with him, is that He never changes, never learns. I do not have any hope that He will improve as a person up to his deathbed, upon which I will feel so much relief. I have confronted him about his attitude, but nothing is ever accomplished. He just goes back to spouting off his negativity and cruelty. I am glad to have moved out. I skipped some more important parts, but I do not want to write anymore.
Ever since I was a school-goer (kindergarten), I had daddy issues. Not physically violent issues like yourself, but more psychological abuse than anything. Whenever I made a mistake, and it angered my father, He would notify me with disgust: "you have a brain, use it", "did you just break that?!", "be more useful"...
Things like that. I could have spilled juice at breakfast and He would have freaked out. Even in front of everyone, deeply embarrassing me. I could have played outside without any footwear, and He would go nuts even if I did not bring dirt into the house. Sometimes his reactions would make me feel sad or useless, and his response if He knew would be to tell me to "grow up" or "stop pouting like a baby". He was never 1 for compassion. No, He was too macho and cold to show compassion like any close person would. He himself lacked a father figure. His father would smoke and drink and his mother would get bothered by his habits, divorcing them. What pisses me off is wondering why that had to rub off onto me considering if He learned anything from that experience. As in: why do I have to feel the brokenness from his generation, should He not be able or want to make improvements for when He had children? No, myself and my sisters had to put up with his snarling shit.
Anyways, He would not be able to deal with my downfalls and my mood in effect of those downfalls, so I would drift away from him, and everyone in my family really. I just wanted to be to myself, a situation that guaranteed that no one would confront me for what I do, because only I understand myself. My mother is practically the polar opposite of my father, kindness meets hatred. I would be happy around my mother, even if She did annoy me severely. I am not sure why but at this point in my writing I am dripping a tear thinking about it. The 1 thing about my mother that really bothered me is her lack of strength. She could always be there for me for healing, but never confronted my father about his ways and what strain He pushed onto his children.
I never really thought about it much, but I feel really awful for my sisters even though they bother me to valhalla. To think that they are still living in the same house as him, putting up with his shit. It sort of feels like I left them in the mud, not being there to experience the same rage and stress. They showed me a different side when they wished me a farewell when I left for college. Oh, that is another thing. I really wanted to get into university. I really wanted to give myself the highest standards into the future. I passed all of my high school courses without doing any homework, no studying and no practice. I was surprised to get a mid 70 mark in my last year of math. Anyways, I continued to lack interest in school as the years passed. I lacked the spark that made me happy. Eventually my face became that of a frown. A hateful frown. Even now I look into the mirror and see the scars of my youth. I still lack drive. Except for the few things in my life that provided me with experience. Friends whenever We hung out, observing nature in my backyards, some TV shows, and my video games. Those things made me feel different. Happy. I would isolate myself in my room and grind away at my video games, giving me the feeling of accomplishment.
I would have visited friends more often if my mood were better. I never wanted to rub off a bad feeling onto my friends. It would have ruined the experience of playing together. I was a bit of an odd 1 in my elementary school. I always seemed to drift about between groups of friends. 1 week I would be playing with the large group of kids, the next I would be playing with the dorky kids, and the next I would be playing with my small group of best friends. I never understood why. I should mention that I was playing hockey since kindergarten and quit at 11. I quit at 11 because I was losing interest in the sport while the others would always be enthused by hockey. I realized that I never wanted to play hockey. My father did. He got me to play hockey... his favourite sport. He would sit in the basement about every night watching tonight's game. He would get me to watch with him. After a short amount of time, I did not watch to watch anymore, and left. I returned to my video games. At age 10, We moved cities because of a better job opportunity for my father. That, was 1 of my worst times. I lacked the skills required for smooth transition into a strange new place. I left everything behind in my old town. Everything. I had to adapt. When it came to the first day of school in my new city, I struggled. On the very first minutes of the day, it was recess. What does a new kid plunged into recess do? I wanted to have friends, but I lacked the drive and courage to do so. So, I sort of walked into the middle of the yard, and could not help but cry silently to myself. I asked to stay inside for recess. On the next day though, I was so happy that a group of friends, my new elementary and highschool best friends, approached me and asked me to hang out with them. I nervously, yet happily agreed. But even then, We would visit each other and hang out outside of school. But I was slowly losing the drive to hang out with them. It began to halt for me.
When I got to highschool, I was like a rock. What I mean, is that I was about as emotionless as 1. Whenever things happened, other people would react sharply. I would not. People would laugh together, get in fights, smile, act tough, etc... I would not. I drew myself in to a solitary life. I had friends but I would disconnect from them. I eventually left them by myself and the library would become my home at my school. I sat there, by myself, browsing the internet, researching things. I would just feel empty, and I needed something to preoccupy me. Eventually I would become paranoid of other people, anxious of what others would do in the presence of a "loner". I was never bullied in high school. I think that this is because of me being a larger person. Intimidating. To sum, my highschool life was shit.
Now, back to my personal life. From my elementary years, I would develop as a person in a very strange way. At about age 8 to 10, I would really reflect on myself after I experienced the wrath of my father. I would go to my room in solemnity. I would think about how many other people in the world were feeling the same way I did. People that would relate to each other. I wanted to do good for the world of my own desires. I wanted to provide, somehow, someway when I got older so that other people would live better, happier lives. I made a pact with myself, and I still live with it today. I always feel for people when I see them hurt. And I always feel angry at people who do harm to those people. I stood in defence of some of my friends when someone else was harassing them. When someone stole my friend's baseball cap, I confronted that person. When someone was picking on 1 of my lankier friends, I pushed them to the ground. I always felt remorse from having to do these things, though, and it made my pact stronger. I was about as mature as an adult at age 10, and people respected that. They never knew how empty I felt about living, though. 1 day, I was tired after school, and my dad as usual was aggressing everyone and He came after me with accusations and such of the stupidest things. I was not putting up with any shit that day, so I got frustrated. I confronted him with more than double the anger He ever showed. He was intimidated by that, probably because I have so much reserve that I bottled all of that anger from a long period of time. I felt good about that.
My problem with him, is that He never changes, never learns. I do not have any hope that He will improve as a person up to his deathbed, upon which I will feel so much relief. I have confronted him about his attitude, but nothing is ever accomplished. He just goes back to spouting off his negativity and cruelty. I am glad to have moved out. I skipped some more important parts, but I do not want to write anymore.
