End of the Rope
There's something that's been bothering me about my parents. But then, what doesn't?
When I lived with my father a fear years ago he always made it out I was fighting with him. There were times that I, yes, talked with him but it was never out of disrespect. What frustrated me the most was when I would come to my father. Tell him the truth about the problem I was dealing with or concerns. Only to have it thrown back in my face with him screaming at me. Naturally this just made me want to talk to him less and eventually I shut down. There was no communication going on what so ever. It was as if every time I opened my mouth my father reacted as if he were shocked I was a human being with my own thoughts and feelings.
One of the main reasons living with my father was so bad was because he simply pushed me to my limit. Mentally and emotionally I became a disaster zone. I can't remember the last time I felt such a way. I did in fact want to commit suicide about six months after living with him. I could not even write during my year living with him which made it even worse. Each time I sat down to try and put my emotions to paper to deal with the pain my father would fly into a rage. Calling my writing a hobby and putting it down. To this day he pisses me off. He lies that he encouraged me to write when he did no such thing. In fact, he wanted me to STOP.
I can understand motivating someone to go further. My father pushed me to get a job while I attended high school. Now, I'm not complaining. Getting that first job actually has benefited me a lot due to my experience there down the road. It allowed me to pay for my own driving lessons in order to get my driver's license. I began to have some problems managing my money. Nothing bad, but there were times I wasn't sure what to buy or where my priorities should lie.
Yes, weird as that sounds it's true. I'd NEVER had a job previous to moving in with my dad. I was never really taught growing up (nope not even my mom) how to manage money properly. So I learned a lot of things the hard way. One of the biggest things was my Dad demanded I move out on my own after I graduated. He was also pushing me to get a car despite the fact it was unrealistic given my current situation. I didn't have enough money to at the time to buy a car. Besides, I had taught myself to use the bus system so there was no real need of it. Getting a car at the time would have drained the very little money I had. Even my co-workers agreed with me who had cars of their own.
So, having no choice I began to make plans to inevitably move out. I tried to talk to my father about giving me a little more time. I was scared and didn't think I could find a good place to move out too in the six months he gave me. My Dad told me straight to my face the matter was set in stone. And nothing I could say would change his mind. So I let the matter drop and did the best I could.
Since I didn't have a car I decided to go with my second best option. I decided getting a bike would help me be a bit more mobile. I was already used to walking everywhere, but there were certain parts of town I could easily reach by riding my bike there rather then taking the bus all the time. One of my co-workers was kind enough to give me his old bike. I fixed the bike up, got it cleaned, and even made a down payment on a room I was going to be moving into. Considering how I had started out I had actually gone a long way. I was in the process of finding a second part-time job and even wanting to save up to set aside money for college.
Then it all came crashing down. I had a bad fight with my dad the night before I graduated. I mean, a REALLY bad fight. Sad thing it all the fight was about was what I was wearing to my college graduation. Which really didn't matter since I would be dressed in a cap and gown the entire time. So no one would see my outfit anyway since I would probably need to go home and change. I spent a day or two with my mom. I came back home to find my dad had dumped all my stuff on the front lawn of the house. So I grabbed my clothes, packed them up, and left.
You know, if someone is able to go any further due to FINANCIAL reasons they deserve to be given a break. I honestly had nothing against getting a car when living with my father. But since I didn't have a decent job I felt it would be best if I waited until I was in a more stable position. My dad continued to threaten to kick me out and put me out on the streets the entire time I was living there. I was terrified.
When I lived with my father a fear years ago he always made it out I was fighting with him. There were times that I, yes, talked with him but it was never out of disrespect. What frustrated me the most was when I would come to my father. Tell him the truth about the problem I was dealing with or concerns. Only to have it thrown back in my face with him screaming at me. Naturally this just made me want to talk to him less and eventually I shut down. There was no communication going on what so ever. It was as if every time I opened my mouth my father reacted as if he were shocked I was a human being with my own thoughts and feelings.
One of the main reasons living with my father was so bad was because he simply pushed me to my limit. Mentally and emotionally I became a disaster zone. I can't remember the last time I felt such a way. I did in fact want to commit suicide about six months after living with him. I could not even write during my year living with him which made it even worse. Each time I sat down to try and put my emotions to paper to deal with the pain my father would fly into a rage. Calling my writing a hobby and putting it down. To this day he pisses me off. He lies that he encouraged me to write when he did no such thing. In fact, he wanted me to STOP.
I can understand motivating someone to go further. My father pushed me to get a job while I attended high school. Now, I'm not complaining. Getting that first job actually has benefited me a lot due to my experience there down the road. It allowed me to pay for my own driving lessons in order to get my driver's license. I began to have some problems managing my money. Nothing bad, but there were times I wasn't sure what to buy or where my priorities should lie.
Yes, weird as that sounds it's true. I'd NEVER had a job previous to moving in with my dad. I was never really taught growing up (nope not even my mom) how to manage money properly. So I learned a lot of things the hard way. One of the biggest things was my Dad demanded I move out on my own after I graduated. He was also pushing me to get a car despite the fact it was unrealistic given my current situation. I didn't have enough money to at the time to buy a car. Besides, I had taught myself to use the bus system so there was no real need of it. Getting a car at the time would have drained the very little money I had. Even my co-workers agreed with me who had cars of their own.
So, having no choice I began to make plans to inevitably move out. I tried to talk to my father about giving me a little more time. I was scared and didn't think I could find a good place to move out too in the six months he gave me. My Dad told me straight to my face the matter was set in stone. And nothing I could say would change his mind. So I let the matter drop and did the best I could.
Since I didn't have a car I decided to go with my second best option. I decided getting a bike would help me be a bit more mobile. I was already used to walking everywhere, but there were certain parts of town I could easily reach by riding my bike there rather then taking the bus all the time. One of my co-workers was kind enough to give me his old bike. I fixed the bike up, got it cleaned, and even made a down payment on a room I was going to be moving into. Considering how I had started out I had actually gone a long way. I was in the process of finding a second part-time job and even wanting to save up to set aside money for college.
Then it all came crashing down. I had a bad fight with my dad the night before I graduated. I mean, a REALLY bad fight. Sad thing it all the fight was about was what I was wearing to my college graduation. Which really didn't matter since I would be dressed in a cap and gown the entire time. So no one would see my outfit anyway since I would probably need to go home and change. I spent a day or two with my mom. I came back home to find my dad had dumped all my stuff on the front lawn of the house. So I grabbed my clothes, packed them up, and left.
You know, if someone is able to go any further due to FINANCIAL reasons they deserve to be given a break. I honestly had nothing against getting a car when living with my father. But since I didn't have a decent job I felt it would be best if I waited until I was in a more stable position. My dad continued to threaten to kick me out and put me out on the streets the entire time I was living there. I was terrified.