My father

I’m starting this post unsure where it will lead, if it will end here or in chapters later on. This will probably ramble on a bit as I put my thoughts down in writing. I’m not a good writer. My mind tends to wander off and I get off topic.

My father, the man responsible for my conception is the one person who as a child was both my hero and saviour. As a mature woman of 43, I’ve not had a relationship with him for almost 14 years. It is really for the best after all. The man has proven to me what a selfish, unapologetic, useless waste of space a human being can be. I’m grateful that my son has no recollection of time spent with him as a toddler and doesn’t wish to know his grandfather either. He has heard all the stories and first hand accounts of the ways my father has mistreated his family over the years. The last communication we had, was through my lawyer when finally settling the probate on his mother’s estate 4 years ago.

My father is neither tall in stature or character. A more intelligent but truly ignorant individual I’ve never  had the misfortunate fortune to know.

He is the textbook example of narcissistic personality disorder. I always heard him looking for his due. It was always regardless whether it was through merit or act, the question was asked. What’s in it for me? Never a selfless act I can recall. He used everyone as a means to an end.

It is really a wonder to me how I managed to be a semi normal functioning adult. I guess adversity in the face of defeat is a redeeming quality. But sadly, I’m constantly evaluating every person I come into contact with that shows me the possibility of friendship. I have to know their agenda. What’s in it for them? Are they truly looking at me as me or someone to manipulate to achieve some nefarious goal. I don’t question them out loud or treat them oddly. I watch and wait, evaluate and compare their words to actions. I do not suffer fools or assholes lightly. That is a flaw I greatly dislike about myself. I’m the judge and jury. I’ve honestly walked away from more than my fair share of friendships without ever explaining to the guilty party what they did in my mind’s eye to alienate me from their world. I doubt I can make amends to most of them.

My father is, was, and will always be the reason I survived the nightmare I lived until age 15. He was daddy. When I was a week shy of my 18th birthday, he decided he no longer needed me around, especially if I wasn’t going to continue to be his surrogate wife. Let me state for the record, he never looked or acted toward me in any way perverted or sexual. He simply saw me as owing him for rescuing me. I needed to be available to cook, clean and be his best friend.

I willing fell into that role in the beginning I’m sure out of a sense of gratitude. I was desperate for love, affection, and normalcy. He categorically stated he wanted to give me the kind of childhood his parents denied him. I lapped it up, I was starving. He’d thrown me a lifeline. I could refuse him nothing and I rarely did for those brief few years. We had a non typical father/daughter relationship. I had a very lenient curfew, unlimited access to recreational drugs and alcohol, and the golden rule was “don’t come home with anything you didn’t leave with”. In other words, pregnant or an STD.

I complied with the rule and neither of those things ever transpired. Granted, I was about the least self-aware teenager when it came to the dangers I was putting myself into. I was living in my own little insulated bubble of freedom. I was too busy being stupid with adolescent boys acting all promiscuous and audacious. It was pure luck I even walked away, much less unscathed.

To say my father sucked as a parent is unkind, but he just lacked any real sensibility. No parent should relish getting their kid high as a kite almost daily. He did. No parent should buy their kid alcohol to share with their friends frequently. He did. No parent should let their child get away with coming home drunk off their ass, clothes inside out & backwards. He did.

I needed guidance, direction, attention, nurturing, punishment, and love. I rarely got these things. It was always given with caveats, strings, back-handed compliments, and derision.

My father never reached his true potential intellectually due to his dilettante attitude. He thought he was owed what he never truly deserved. He squandered his chances by becoming a drug addict. Marijuana was his drug of choice, it fit him. Made him lazy, mellow and feckless. Perfect for someone lacking drive to better themselves. He was the yuppie hippie. He grew out his hair and sported a Fu man Chu moustache and beard. He certainly never lived in a commune, that was too hippy. He relied on his parents to fund his pursuits. They forever would be bailing him out of every sort of stupidity he managed to fall into.

The most ignorant thing he ever did was get caught using stolen credit cards. I’ve never gotten the whole story or truth about the actual robbery or subsequent jail sentencing. I know he spent 2 yrs in the state penitentiary. If his life up until that point had been difficult in his eyes, the aftermath would be his undoing.

to be continued