If this is a journal:
I apologize for posting really shitty stuff that is difficult to comment on, but I need to get this out. I dunno how to do a "more under the cut" thing so if you guys can teach me I'll edit the journal and not clog your friends list.
Today marks the second time my father has decided being a raging drunk is a good way to help get Emily to Starbucks for her opening shift. (the fourth in a series of opening shifts which have thoroughly deprived me of sleep)
Yesterday he left saying he'd be back by 6 and that the car would be ready for me to use to drive her to work as opposed to braving the cold, rainy streets. He didn't show up and I only barely noticed him drive by us while we were walking at 3 AM. We left early knowing he hadn't kept his promise to be home, depriving Emily of breakfast. I called him (which I now regret) and he came back around to pick us up and drive us to work.
It was immediately clear that he was drunk, and while we were waiting for the Starbucks to open, he began patronizing Emily about how she should take a stand against Starbucks for making her open so many shifts and that they were taking advantage of her. We told him very plainly that his usual lectures were uncomfortable so early in the morning but he only got more aggressive, eventually we just fucking got out of the car and he drove off, leaving us in the cold, and me to walk back home in it. Emily was crying again, a tally mark of unforgivable trespasses by this man that thinks he is my father.
On the walk back he called me on the phone and asked if I was enjoying my walk in the cold, taunting me in ways similar to the previous time he was drunk, in which he locked himself out of the apartment and begged me to let him in before telling me to get out of the house afterward. (My patience and ability to forgive people is stretched as thin as my sanity now, by the way.)
I told him no, I wasn't enjoying the walk, nor was I enjoying his insistence on interfering with my relationship with Emily. We argued briefly over how he "bought the car for us" before he hung up on me, I was yelling at him on my phone and getting stared at by some people cleaning the street, making me look like some street punk despite the fact that in reality I don't even jaywalk at 3 AM and I've never broken a law or had any alcohol or done any drugs and yet this shit befalls me continually.
Anyway, when I got home it was dark, I hoped to God Dad was asleep because last time he was drunk he insisted on "talking" to me which consists mostly of him yelling to "listen to him" and that I should sit down. Last time this happened, I yelled at him louder than I'd ever yelled, I had a total nervous breakdown and drove him to tears. Lo and behold, he knocks on my door and when I open it he just starts walking away expecting me to follow, I don't.
He tells me to sit and talk with him in the living room, to which I thoroughly and loudly refuse. He asks why I am yelling so loudly again, and why I "always get this way " when he makes Emily cry. I tell him he's not my father anymore, and I'm not his son. I tell him I can't stand it anymore, that I just want to sleep. (It is 4 AM and I am shaking terribly, there is no way I'm sleeping, this is just an escape route to get me to stop talking to him.)
About halfway through the prolonged yelling argument I decide that since I won't be sleeping I will preoccupy myself with trying to etch some sense into my drunk father's mind. Since he never listens to me, and listens to me even less when he's drunk, I approach the situation this way: I carefully examine his criticisms of me and my relationship with Emily (which is, by the way, flawless, perfect, and unbelievably happy, except for my father's intrusions.) and reply against him each time, using his own criticisms, why he feels the way he does, and why he believes I react the way I do.
Furthermore, he describes in detail that he believes Emily is controlling me and that none of this would have happened if I "hadn't brought her here". (Which I didn't, I came to Seattle alone, to help my father recover from a stroke and get away from Emily's family, she stayed behind, but it's not like anyone can stand her parents long enough to maintain sanity. Oh look, my parents are fucked up too, I guess we can't get away from this shit.)
I describe to him that I didn't bring her here, furthermore, he was having drunken episodes before she got here, and I distanced myself from him back then the same way I do now. He blames my reclusiveness on my computer, video games, and naivety regarding real life. I retort that every time he gets drunk, I am pushed farther and farther from the man I believed to be my father, the man I respected.
Further, I tell him that what really gets to me, what really makes me scream, is not just that he made Emily cry. (Because again, I was freaked out by him even before she got here.) I describe that what cuts me deep is that he is the man, the philosopher I respected, whom I based my personal responsibility rules and parts of my own religion on. (I also use these facts to prove to him that "I do listen to him" later) And seeing him degrade himself is disturbing to me. (Further, I spent my entire life avoiding things like alcohol and it's disrespectful and disturbing for him to bring them to my doorstep in the worst way possible. Not that I have anything against alcohol, only the misuse of it.)
He goes on to describe that he believes Emily "speaks up for me" and "acts the way she does" (?) is because her parents have separated and that is traumatizing. Which is totally unrelated to the fact that he's a fucking drunk asshole that needs to fuck off and leave us alone.
I tell him that she does speak for me, and that it does seem to bother him, but it is his drunken episodes in addition to my upbringing (two abusive step-fathers, one who threw me across a room and another who ripped my computer monitor out of the wall because he was mad at my Mom.) that results in my having low self esteem and self-doubt issues. I go on to describe the real-life (and every day) instance where I check my pocket for my house keys before leaving the house, literally 4 or more times, or again, when I made a debit transaction, I check to make sure I have my debit card like five times, no exaggeration.
This truth moves him deeply for some reason and again, I find myself involuntarily comforting/hugging a drunk man who is a threat and a danger to my love life and my personal life. Over time he becomes extremely apologetic, and like last time, tells me I am incredibly intelligent, begs forgiveness, and tells me I'm right about everything, and that he'll never do this again.
I didn't believe him when he said that months ago and I don't believe it now.
The crux of the issue is simple, he's wanted to kick me out of the house when drunk twice now, but the reality is: If I hate it here so much, why don't I leave? The answer is just as simple.
I don't have anywhere else to go. If I got a job, who would take care of Emily when she was sick, or take her to Starbucks at 3 AM so she doesn't get mugged on the street? Furthermore, if I had a job, Emily would have had to deal with Dad's drunken episodes, not me. I can name a thousand reasons why attempting to get a job/move out will do more harm than good, yet I'm surrounded by people totally oblivious to these facts. I know how to get a job, I had one in Texas and I had a major hand in getting Emily her start at Starbucks in the first place. I had a car, I paid insurance, I got gas, I paid rent (still do, but at this point I don't see why), etc. This isn't news, but since people like Dad weren't there to see it, I'm treated like I'm 14. Except in the case of serious matters such as my relationship with Emily, at which point I'm treated like I'm 8. Nobody respects me for any of this. Not even Emily.
I am holding this broken man together by a thread, but I may be more broken than he is. If I'm not, I will be soon.
Today marks the second time my father has decided being a raging drunk is a good way to help get Emily to Starbucks for her opening shift. (the fourth in a series of opening shifts which have thoroughly deprived me of sleep)
Yesterday he left saying he'd be back by 6 and that the car would be ready for me to use to drive her to work as opposed to braving the cold, rainy streets. He didn't show up and I only barely noticed him drive by us while we were walking at 3 AM. We left early knowing he hadn't kept his promise to be home, depriving Emily of breakfast. I called him (which I now regret) and he came back around to pick us up and drive us to work.
It was immediately clear that he was drunk, and while we were waiting for the Starbucks to open, he began patronizing Emily about how she should take a stand against Starbucks for making her open so many shifts and that they were taking advantage of her. We told him very plainly that his usual lectures were uncomfortable so early in the morning but he only got more aggressive, eventually we just fucking got out of the car and he drove off, leaving us in the cold, and me to walk back home in it. Emily was crying again, a tally mark of unforgivable trespasses by this man that thinks he is my father.
On the walk back he called me on the phone and asked if I was enjoying my walk in the cold, taunting me in ways similar to the previous time he was drunk, in which he locked himself out of the apartment and begged me to let him in before telling me to get out of the house afterward. (My patience and ability to forgive people is stretched as thin as my sanity now, by the way.)
I told him no, I wasn't enjoying the walk, nor was I enjoying his insistence on interfering with my relationship with Emily. We argued briefly over how he "bought the car for us" before he hung up on me, I was yelling at him on my phone and getting stared at by some people cleaning the street, making me look like some street punk despite the fact that in reality I don't even jaywalk at 3 AM and I've never broken a law or had any alcohol or done any drugs and yet this shit befalls me continually.
Anyway, when I got home it was dark, I hoped to God Dad was asleep because last time he was drunk he insisted on "talking" to me which consists mostly of him yelling to "listen to him" and that I should sit down. Last time this happened, I yelled at him louder than I'd ever yelled, I had a total nervous breakdown and drove him to tears. Lo and behold, he knocks on my door and when I open it he just starts walking away expecting me to follow, I don't.
He tells me to sit and talk with him in the living room, to which I thoroughly and loudly refuse. He asks why I am yelling so loudly again, and why I "always get this way " when he makes Emily cry. I tell him he's not my father anymore, and I'm not his son. I tell him I can't stand it anymore, that I just want to sleep. (It is 4 AM and I am shaking terribly, there is no way I'm sleeping, this is just an escape route to get me to stop talking to him.)
About halfway through the prolonged yelling argument I decide that since I won't be sleeping I will preoccupy myself with trying to etch some sense into my drunk father's mind. Since he never listens to me, and listens to me even less when he's drunk, I approach the situation this way: I carefully examine his criticisms of me and my relationship with Emily (which is, by the way, flawless, perfect, and unbelievably happy, except for my father's intrusions.) and reply against him each time, using his own criticisms, why he feels the way he does, and why he believes I react the way I do.
Furthermore, he describes in detail that he believes Emily is controlling me and that none of this would have happened if I "hadn't brought her here". (Which I didn't, I came to Seattle alone, to help my father recover from a stroke and get away from Emily's family, she stayed behind, but it's not like anyone can stand her parents long enough to maintain sanity. Oh look, my parents are fucked up too, I guess we can't get away from this shit.)
I describe to him that I didn't bring her here, furthermore, he was having drunken episodes before she got here, and I distanced myself from him back then the same way I do now. He blames my reclusiveness on my computer, video games, and naivety regarding real life. I retort that every time he gets drunk, I am pushed farther and farther from the man I believed to be my father, the man I respected.
Further, I tell him that what really gets to me, what really makes me scream, is not just that he made Emily cry. (Because again, I was freaked out by him even before she got here.) I describe that what cuts me deep is that he is the man, the philosopher I respected, whom I based my personal responsibility rules and parts of my own religion on. (I also use these facts to prove to him that "I do listen to him" later) And seeing him degrade himself is disturbing to me. (Further, I spent my entire life avoiding things like alcohol and it's disrespectful and disturbing for him to bring them to my doorstep in the worst way possible. Not that I have anything against alcohol, only the misuse of it.)
He goes on to describe that he believes Emily "speaks up for me" and "acts the way she does" (?) is because her parents have separated and that is traumatizing. Which is totally unrelated to the fact that he's a fucking drunk asshole that needs to fuck off and leave us alone.
I tell him that she does speak for me, and that it does seem to bother him, but it is his drunken episodes in addition to my upbringing (two abusive step-fathers, one who threw me across a room and another who ripped my computer monitor out of the wall because he was mad at my Mom.) that results in my having low self esteem and self-doubt issues. I go on to describe the real-life (and every day) instance where I check my pocket for my house keys before leaving the house, literally 4 or more times, or again, when I made a debit transaction, I check to make sure I have my debit card like five times, no exaggeration.
This truth moves him deeply for some reason and again, I find myself involuntarily comforting/hugging a drunk man who is a threat and a danger to my love life and my personal life. Over time he becomes extremely apologetic, and like last time, tells me I am incredibly intelligent, begs forgiveness, and tells me I'm right about everything, and that he'll never do this again.
I didn't believe him when he said that months ago and I don't believe it now.
The crux of the issue is simple, he's wanted to kick me out of the house when drunk twice now, but the reality is: If I hate it here so much, why don't I leave? The answer is just as simple.
I don't have anywhere else to go. If I got a job, who would take care of Emily when she was sick, or take her to Starbucks at 3 AM so she doesn't get mugged on the street? Furthermore, if I had a job, Emily would have had to deal with Dad's drunken episodes, not me. I can name a thousand reasons why attempting to get a job/move out will do more harm than good, yet I'm surrounded by people totally oblivious to these facts. I know how to get a job, I had one in Texas and I had a major hand in getting Emily her start at Starbucks in the first place. I had a car, I paid insurance, I got gas, I paid rent (still do, but at this point I don't see why), etc. This isn't news, but since people like Dad weren't there to see it, I'm treated like I'm 14. Except in the case of serious matters such as my relationship with Emily, at which point I'm treated like I'm 8. Nobody respects me for any of this. Not even Emily.
I am holding this broken man together by a thread, but I may be more broken than he is. If I'm not, I will be soon.