Guess hot-head is a genetic trait...
Today was supposed to be a "ME"-day.
Didn't happen. (Until I had my therapy appointment, but that wasn't until 7 pm.)
Spent all day waiting for someone who didn't show.
And ... On top of that got into a huge argument with the male who contributed the sperm necessary for my creation. (He doesn't deserve to be called "Dad" ... nor "Father" for that matter. Actually, he's never deserved either of those titles.)
Now, I know I'm a hot-headed Drama Queen, but at least I live in this reality. His is of this distorted reality where everyone, including his mother and his offpsring, are out to verbally abuse him every chance they get. How is he verbally abused? ... If you say something, anything, and he takes it as insulting - that's what he considers abusive. Take this morning for example. My grandmother asked him to clear his things out of the living room (they've been there for a month). I overheard her ask him, and she was a little snarky about it, but he totally laid into her. He went on and on: how dare she talk to him that way, how dare she treat him like he's stupid. WTF? She was just annoyed because you're crap is taking over the house - she wasn't trying to insult you personally! I came in to defend her, but ended up yelling at him. Then I cried. He kept on saying we were denying him his rights to his feelings. Grrrr.... he has every right to his feelings, he just doesn't have a right to force them on us.
He later called me a hypocrite for getting mad at him for yelling at his mom because I used to yell at my mom. Yeah, I did ... when I was going through puberty. I stopped picking unjust fights with my mother six years ago. There's a big difference between an hormonal teenager and a 50-year-old man. Or at least, shouldn't there be? Geesh...
I rue the day he ever discovered self-help books. He reads these books and then thinks he's an expert on human behavior. Sorry! That requires contact with other humans! He only ever leaves the house to go to work or shop at bookstores. None of his friends like to hang out with him anymore because he dominates everything - and not in a fun way. Family members can't even stand to be in the same room with him anymore. I'm grateful for when he goes to work, his negative energy is out of the house and my grandmother and I feel like we can actually enjoy our home.
It's amazing how genetics can weigh just as much as upbringing. I was raised by my WASP side of the family. Don't get me wrong, I love my mom and her mom - but they keep so much bottled up. OMG! I was raised that yelling is bad, you don't yell. My paternal relatives, they yell at each other all the time, and it's not a big deal. That's been a HUMONGOUS adjustment for me to make - to finally be somewhere where if I got upset over something stupid, we could joke about it - as opposed to putting me on Prozac.
But my male parent? His yelling isn't healthy. His yelling is what's abusive. But he doesn't think it's abusive because he doesn't get physically violent. Sorry! Violence is violence, verbally or physically. He thinks he's being assertive, but he's really being aggressive (negatively), abusive, selfish, and just downright mean.
Later in the day after we had calmed down a bit, and my grandmother left to pick up my aunt from work, he asked if he could talk with me for a minute. (I should have had a timer with me and left when the minute was up.) He talked AT me for 30 minutes. About his need to be understood, how his father verbally abused him, how coworkers verbally abused him, how his mother verbally abuses him. Finally I said, "Are we done?" I will give him props for not yelling at all during this "conversation," but he did have to tell me that he felt I needed to learn some tact. So, I very calmly, without saying anything, stood up, walked to my room, gently closed the door, sat on my couch, closed my eyes, and wished for a boulder to fall on his head. Now, this may seem as if I wasn't giving him a chance to be heard. I was giving him a chance. I've given him chances before, but there's just so many times you can hear the same stories over and over again before you want to yell out, "Don't you know how to heal past hurts and move on!"
*Yes, I am aware of the irony.
I haven't talked to him since. I've avoided any room that he's in - which is hard because it's a small house. He, my grandma and my aunt were hanging out in the den, I sat in the living room. My grandma came over to sit with me, a few minutes later my aunt. Then guess who didn't want to be left alone in the den? You got it! If I'm in the kitchen and he comes in, thank goodness the kitchen has two entryways/exits.
He is 50 years old! I'm half his age and I have it more together than he does! Geesh. I am bound and determined to never become like him. Thank goodness he exists if only to be an example of what not to be like. Hah! I should take a picture of him and put a red circle and slash across it, like the "No Smoking" signs.
Gaw! Why did my mother have to procreate with him? Why couldn't I have a normal father? One who was around and spoiled me like the daddy's girl I was supposed to be? Makes me appreciate my stepdad even more. While Max and I may butt heads a lot, he treated me much more like a real father than my genetically related one did. Max calls me "mija." Max tells me that he loves me. I don't think Kenneth has ever told me that he's loved me.
Psh! He's too selfish to love anyone but himself, and even then he hates himself ... but that's another post.
My back hurts. Well, not so much hurts as it is stiff. Didn't get to the gym today. Definetely going tomorrow. Need to go tomorrow.
Didn't happen. (Until I had my therapy appointment, but that wasn't until 7 pm.)
Spent all day waiting for someone who didn't show.
And ... On top of that got into a huge argument with the male who contributed the sperm necessary for my creation. (He doesn't deserve to be called "Dad" ... nor "Father" for that matter. Actually, he's never deserved either of those titles.)
Now, I know I'm a hot-headed Drama Queen, but at least I live in this reality. His is of this distorted reality where everyone, including his mother and his offpsring, are out to verbally abuse him every chance they get. How is he verbally abused? ... If you say something, anything, and he takes it as insulting - that's what he considers abusive. Take this morning for example. My grandmother asked him to clear his things out of the living room (they've been there for a month). I overheard her ask him, and she was a little snarky about it, but he totally laid into her. He went on and on: how dare she talk to him that way, how dare she treat him like he's stupid. WTF? She was just annoyed because you're crap is taking over the house - she wasn't trying to insult you personally! I came in to defend her, but ended up yelling at him. Then I cried. He kept on saying we were denying him his rights to his feelings. Grrrr.... he has every right to his feelings, he just doesn't have a right to force them on us.
He later called me a hypocrite for getting mad at him for yelling at his mom because I used to yell at my mom. Yeah, I did ... when I was going through puberty. I stopped picking unjust fights with my mother six years ago. There's a big difference between an hormonal teenager and a 50-year-old man. Or at least, shouldn't there be? Geesh...
I rue the day he ever discovered self-help books. He reads these books and then thinks he's an expert on human behavior. Sorry! That requires contact with other humans! He only ever leaves the house to go to work or shop at bookstores. None of his friends like to hang out with him anymore because he dominates everything - and not in a fun way. Family members can't even stand to be in the same room with him anymore. I'm grateful for when he goes to work, his negative energy is out of the house and my grandmother and I feel like we can actually enjoy our home.
It's amazing how genetics can weigh just as much as upbringing. I was raised by my WASP side of the family. Don't get me wrong, I love my mom and her mom - but they keep so much bottled up. OMG! I was raised that yelling is bad, you don't yell. My paternal relatives, they yell at each other all the time, and it's not a big deal. That's been a HUMONGOUS adjustment for me to make - to finally be somewhere where if I got upset over something stupid, we could joke about it - as opposed to putting me on Prozac.
But my male parent? His yelling isn't healthy. His yelling is what's abusive. But he doesn't think it's abusive because he doesn't get physically violent. Sorry! Violence is violence, verbally or physically. He thinks he's being assertive, but he's really being aggressive (negatively), abusive, selfish, and just downright mean.
Later in the day after we had calmed down a bit, and my grandmother left to pick up my aunt from work, he asked if he could talk with me for a minute. (I should have had a timer with me and left when the minute was up.) He talked AT me for 30 minutes. About his need to be understood, how his father verbally abused him, how coworkers verbally abused him, how his mother verbally abuses him. Finally I said, "Are we done?" I will give him props for not yelling at all during this "conversation," but he did have to tell me that he felt I needed to learn some tact. So, I very calmly, without saying anything, stood up, walked to my room, gently closed the door, sat on my couch, closed my eyes, and wished for a boulder to fall on his head. Now, this may seem as if I wasn't giving him a chance to be heard. I was giving him a chance. I've given him chances before, but there's just so many times you can hear the same stories over and over again before you want to yell out, "Don't you know how to heal past hurts and move on!"
*Yes, I am aware of the irony.
I haven't talked to him since. I've avoided any room that he's in - which is hard because it's a small house. He, my grandma and my aunt were hanging out in the den, I sat in the living room. My grandma came over to sit with me, a few minutes later my aunt. Then guess who didn't want to be left alone in the den? You got it! If I'm in the kitchen and he comes in, thank goodness the kitchen has two entryways/exits.
He is 50 years old! I'm half his age and I have it more together than he does! Geesh. I am bound and determined to never become like him. Thank goodness he exists if only to be an example of what not to be like. Hah! I should take a picture of him and put a red circle and slash across it, like the "No Smoking" signs.
Gaw! Why did my mother have to procreate with him? Why couldn't I have a normal father? One who was around and spoiled me like the daddy's girl I was supposed to be? Makes me appreciate my stepdad even more. While Max and I may butt heads a lot, he treated me much more like a real father than my genetically related one did. Max calls me "mija." Max tells me that he loves me. I don't think Kenneth has ever told me that he's loved me.
Psh! He's too selfish to love anyone but himself, and even then he hates himself ... but that's another post.
My back hurts. Well, not so much hurts as it is stiff. Didn't get to the gym today. Definetely going tomorrow. Need to go tomorrow.