To the object of my pain and loathing.

You wonder why I can be so cold to you. The reason why is because I remember. I remember because you never give me time to heal. I am surrounded by signs of you not caring about me or those I love. I want to return back to a time of ignorance sometimes. A time when leaving me in the car as you enter the gas station to buy alcohol was just a part of you taking me to daddy daughter dinner. I remember how you gave me a lollipop to suck on while I waited. How I was done with the treat before you returned. I didn’t know what to do with the stick or wrapping so I poked it through the little crack you had left in the window next to me so they would be left in the parking lot. I almost immediately felt guilty for littering and had a fear of getting caught. I had nothing to worry about though, you never noticed that they were even missing. You never asked where they went. I wished that worry was the only consequence of that trip. That it was not an omen for a lack of actual interest. How it would lead to you not knowing my friends, dreams, or interests even when we live in the same house.

I hate how my sister took the brunt of your direct abuse. How you would yell at her almost every evening from her doorway. Swaying from the alcohol and trapping her from leaving the situation. How you took the door off of her room as punishment when she tried to lock you out. How you would call her names and withhold almost all positive attention. I still remember her screams the one time you laid hands on her while black out wasted. That it was all over her “wasting” Kleenex because she had a bloody nose at the time and you thought she was being hysterical. I can still picture the blood droplets on the wall of the bathroom the next morning from it flying from the force of the slap. Her sobs as she took refuge in my bedroom after.

I hate how you treat mom. How you sleep separately. Not a sign of genuine affection. How she gave you back massages for years in hope of reciprocation. How your phone buzzes every time she buys anything. Even as small as a coffee and you are notified. You say it’s to make sure nobody steals the money from the account but I know better. How you badmouth her the moment she is away. Keep everything in a half working condition so she can’t leave you. Refuse to eat the food she makes without complaining. Arguing over everything with her. Feeling that you have to be in control. I remember her telling me how you admitted to marrying her just because you didn’t want to be lonely. How she threw out a random mechanical part on the deck you weren’t using and you went on “strike” and refused to do anything except go to work for years. Even when the swamp cooler broke and we had no air conditioning in California during the summer. I remember how I was getting heatstroke inside the house and mom would have to take me and my sister to the mall just to survive the heat properly. How you forced her to apologize multiple times before you fixed it finally.

I hate the insidious little things you whispered to me when I was alone. Things too horrible to repeat and made me feel like I had to comply for love. I hate how those things became a part of me. How you gas light me that things happened differently. How you pulled me out of the hospital early multiple times to save money or comfort. How I usually got just as sick again immediately after. But according to you it never happened. How you forced me to get a procedure I didn’t want to reduce recovery time and now you tell people you saved my life. I was fine and we both know it. My health is not a priority to you. Money and comfort is more important. I no longer trust you to care for me.

I hate how much it hurts. How much it has made me hate you. Days where I wish for your death so we are no longer trapped. I long to heal. To take a deep breath finally and no longer see it all. I am tired of being ripped in half by resentment and hope of love. I wish you cared enough to form a bond with me. I have tried so hard to please you. I break before you are ever satisfied and you only cared about school achievements anyway. I remember how disappointed you were when I graduated college with an AA. How you wanted me to continue to study even though I physically couldn’t keep up anymore. How it caused me, your disabled daughter that has survived against all odds, to doubt my own efforts. That graduation party did not feel earned even as I was experiencing it. I just wanted you to be proud of me and acknowledge my struggles. Instead you shot them down. I was also afraid. No terrified. Scared that I would no longer receive praise. And I was unfortunately correct. Nothing I do now is praiseworthy to you. The only time you spend time with me is the occasional concert or big show of affection you make to trick yourself into thinking that you are a good dad. Never mind the emotional neglect the rest of the year. I never wanted a big show of affection. I just wanted a father.

You are the reason most of the family are in therapy. One of these problems and I would have been able to move on. But they build and build and build. I can not longer feign the affection you desire. I fear the day that I can not longer be neutral either. It is bad for my heart and soul. You fail to work on yourself either. Instead you turn to numbing alcohol when the feelings get to big. Pushing the fall out onto the others closest to you. Those that you should love. I don’t understand how you can be in a relationship out of loneliness and yet do everything possible to isolate yourself.

This is not just a call out or notice, but a plea. Please give me relief. I cannot take the emotional weight. It makes me want to vomit and head feel like it is being crushed. I have gone to bed crying and shaking. Please do something to make things better. I need a miracle. I ask you to actually work on yourself. I know that no family is perfect but this house is a nightmare. I am already to the stage where I cannot imagine myself forgiving you. I hate the feeling as well as the fact I can’t forgive you right now. I want to do the Christian thing. So please free me. Either do better or, and I say this with mom’s opinion in mind, start the process of separation or divorce. I want out. I need out. I beg of you.