My Dad was a very difficult man to live with. He verbally abused my Mom and I for 25 years. You may think that's silly. "If he was in your life starting at 11, then that means he verbally abused you into your mid 30s?" you are asking yourself. "How can anyone verbally abuse an adult child that moved away?"
Easy.
Even though I moved out to go to college at 18 and then lived on my own after that, even though I wasn't physically around for him to verbally abuse me, he did it via long distance, on the phone; through that stupid, freaking phone. Or when I visited them throughout the next 18 years.
My torture lies in the fact that my Dad was a very strong proponent of college. He kinda forced me to get good grades. I really had no choice. He wouldn't allow it. He was the strict one of the two for sure.
My Mom always felt bad when I said that it was my Dad that made me go to college. I do accept that my Mom was a huge proponent of me going to college, also, and she paid for most of my loans and ensured I was taken care of. But she didn't get on to me about my grades. My Dad was the one who would kill me if I came home with bad grades. I was literally too scared NOT to get good grades.
So here is my dilemma that I have struggled with. The man that verbally abused me, made me go to college. Because of that, I have a great paying job, a great house, a great car, a great life. Because of him.
Sure, I had some help along the way with my decisions, but I had to first live in a home knowing I had no choice about going to college.
But, it's the man who verbally abused me and really, honestly, made it very tough for my Mom and I. For 25 years.
I would find out through counseling (that I had to start going to at age 35 because I could no longer handle his anger and rudeness) that he prolly had a few mental issues (like immature personality disorder for example) that had something to do with his extreme anger, weird paranoia, and negativism.
He would call me from San Antonio, when I lived in the Dallas area, and ask me where my Mom was.
What? I have no idea. I am 34 years old and live 5 hours away.
"She's not at home from work yet. It's already 7pm and she got off at 5pm. She's prolly dead on the side of the road after being raped," he would say with such conviction like he truly believed it.
"What? Uh, no I haven't heard from her. I'm sure she's ok. Running an errand or something."
"Well, if she doesn't come home soon, I'm gonna have to call the police."
"Ok, well, let me know...." I begged, as he slammed the phone in my ear.
And later I would call and he would answer all fine, "Oh, I forgot she had to go to the grocery store." Never once thinking to call and update me on her missing, bloodied body.
One time at Christmas, I was living away after college and I bought all these presents for him and my Mom. He opened one of the boxes and it was these cool slippers I thought he would like.
He opens them, looks at the size, and then THROWS them across the room! "Those aren't my size," he'd yell all upset and angry and hurt, like a little kid.
There were times my Dad was the greatest. When I bought my first car, my Mom went into the house jealous without saying a word to me; I was DEEPLY hurt. My Dad, he came up to me, kissed me on the forehead and said "I'm so proud of you, kid." He knew my unreliable truck needed to be replaced and he also knew the feeling of your first-ever-new-car. He also knew, "I made it." I had a good job; because I went to college.
He also used to write little notes all the time to my Mom. Most were apology notes, but many were how much he loved her, with really sweet words. And after I moved away, he would write me letters about his every day life at home after he was disabled from severe heart disease and diabetes (he would joke about the squirrels or talk about his fav dog/cat). I even found a note after his passing, that he left for me that was very sweet, special, and surprising how he left it for me to find!
Please don't think his verbal abuse was a daily thing; as it wasn't. But, it was often enough that my Mom and I had to be very careful how we worded things; and we were very nervous and scared a lot. It got worse with his age and because he was in so much pain from his health issues. I suppose he took it all out on us when he would get hurt, upset, enraged, or was in pain. For 25 years we endured his Dr Jekyll and My Hyde personality.
But, he also hung up on me a lot. As someone who didn't understand what was going on, it was pretty tough to get yelled at then the phone slammed down in your face.
I didn't know til his funeral that he did the same thing to his sisters. I wish I would have known that before; it would have saved me a lot of pain to know he was like that to everyone, not just special 'ole me. When I heard from my Aunt, "he used to do that to me, also" I started to bawl. Like a baby.
He would also yell at waiters and waitresses a lot if his food order was wrong. My Mom and I always got scared when we went out to eat with him because we never knew if he would blow up at some unfortunate soul for something he overreacted about. We were embarrassed and ashamed a lot.
About 5 months before his death, he was so mean and terrifying to my Mom's nurses at the hospital, the Doctor told me they were close to calling security to remove him from the premises! As I reflect back, of course now I see that my Dad was just frightened himself about my Mom's health and wanted the nurses to treat her better. He didn't know how to handle his emotions except through anger and yelling.
It turns out I became a pro a yelling at people. :( I learned from the best! I used to not be able to control it, but I am 1000 times better now.
However, if you see that side of me, it means I'm REALLY pissed. I hope no one ever sees that side of me. It's not pretty.
But, when all you see your entire childhood and into your 20s is verbal abuse, I admit I didn't know any better; I didn't know I wasn't suppose to yell at people. Eventually my Mom would have to yell back at him, when she had the balls. His voice would rise like the loudest clap of thunder you ever heard. With his mean stare, loud voice, ugly and mean words, we mostly cowered. We hardly ever defended ourselves because we were so damn scared of him.
My neighbors would tell me later that they always thought they would need to call the cops, because they could hear him yelling at my Mom through the walls and feared the worst sometimes.
He used to keep me up all night a lot in my teens and just talk to me... ALL night long.... about what I needed to do and what I was doing wrong. If I yawned, he would yell at me, "Am I boring you?!?!" This is at 3am when he's been berating me for hours on end, usually on a school night.
One time I fainted in church the next day because he kept me up all night.
I was SO thankful my Mom used to get up at 415am for work, because I could finally get away from him and run into my room when she would walk down the hall to ask him, "what is she still doing up?"
One Summer when I was in college, I was trying to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon at my boyfriends apartment. He was messing with the radio in the living room and it kept me from sleeping. I finally couldn't handle it anymore! I flew out the bedroom door, stormed into the living room, and shouted at him, "I'M TRYING TO FUCKING SLEEP IN HERE! TURN THAT DOWN!"
I stormed back into the room and jumped back in the bed, with a huge scowl on my forehead. I was SO angry he was being so rude and inconsiderate!
He came in a few minutes later. I figured he was going to apologize, but I was not ready to accept any apology from him! I was too agitated and upset.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and said to me, almost in a whisper, and with very calm words, "All you had to do was ask."
And he left the room.
That was THE first time I learned you didn't have to yell at people to get them to do things. That you SHOULDN'T yell at people. Honestly. First time I ever knew that. :(
I was 22 years old.
I'm like any child - I did what my parents did and learned from example. I acted just like them. They would yell like that at each other ALL the time at the house. I honestly knew no different. My Dad would even wake up my Mom or I just to yell at us for something that had been festering in his mind for a couple of hours overnight. It was brutal.
My Dad loved my Mom and I more than anything in this world. I was the daughter he always wanted. His wife, he considered his soul mate. But, he had some issues that made him not understand his severe verbal abuse issues.
Since he has passed and I can think clearer, it's pretty obvious he had some mental issues.
I came home from college one time and put on the dining table about 10-20 pages I printed about verbal abuse. He picked them up, looked at the title and said, "What is this? I don't do this." and slammed them down on the table and stomped away very angry.
Yea, I did not handle that well.
What was I thinking? He'd magically read all the papers and have an 'Ah Ha' moment and stop yelling at us?
So, after the incident from the boyfriend, I am NOT exaggerating to tell you it still took me 10-14 years to finally stop yelling at people. Even tho I heard what the b/f at the time said, and FINALLY found out verbal abuse and yelling was NOT the norm, it still took me a very long time to stop doing it.
I had a couple of friends who helped me. They would point out when I was treating waiters and waitresses wrong. It was such a habit for me! And I was only able to finally control it after years and years. As I type this, I am SHOCKED it took me 10-14 years to stop yelling at people for little things for no reason. It was tough to control. :(
Why did my Mom stay? Well, she didn't want another "divorce" on her hands. She felt ashamed if another marriage didn't last. That's how she was raised - in a time period where divorce was a huge failure looked down on. And so she stayed with him for all those years so SHE wouldn't look bad.
He continued to hang up on me, yell at me on the phone, and was very rude to me off and on even after I left the roost. In my mid 30s, I finally bought a tape recorder thingy for my cell phone to record his harassing messages and phone calls. I couldn't take it anymore. It was causing me to go into SEVERE depression, and that's about the time I also seeked counseling (which was very helpful, btw). I don't know what I planned with those messages. I again assumed he would magically not yell at us anymore if I showed him and made him hear himself, and how he treated us. I never did tell him about the tapes. I hope I never run across them.
After his passing, my Mom used to have dreams/nightmares of him yelling at her. I still have those dreams/nightmares to this day. It's not pleasant, I admit.
But, as much as I should be upset and ticked at my Dad for verbally abusing my Mom and I, it is still because of his love for me that I grew up in a household where college was the ONLY option.
I was very blessed that my Dad and I got along the last 6 months of his life. Before that, I was very upset at him and didn't like him for treating my Mom badly. Yell at me all you want and hang up on me all the time, but when he continued to yell and scream at my Mom, it broke my heart and caused me to not like him for many years. I don't think he knew how I felt, as I obviously couldn't show him. The last thing you want is the wrath from my Dad. That was not a good thing to see or be a part of.
But, the last six months, he trusted me 100% with his life and my Mom's life and finally saw me as an adult. He even started to not make ANY decisions without me. I'm talking BIG decisions; and any and all decisions or choices for he and my Mother. He finally saw me as the responsible adult he and my Mom had raised. I enjoyed our last six month together and got to see the REAL Dad in that body.
It's extremely difficult for me to talk about this, as I don't want people to think bad of him, and he still has relatives (sisters and brothers) that I am in contact with. But the facts are the facts. He could be a really bad person, but he could also be a really good person.
I see living life as learning experiences; and growing from them. And from my eyes, I am not bitter, angry, mad, nor feel sorry for myself.
I never have regrets about anything in my life or my past. I believe everything happens for a reason. I don't look back and wish he didn't treat us badly; it was our life and we lived it and we survived it. I don't see my childhood as a bad childhood. It was just the way I lived. He didn't know any better. I have to say it was a relief to find out he prolly had some sort of mental disease. I never wanted to think he was just a jerk. He just had a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde personality for sure, but we survived it.
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