"Thanks, my dad used to hit me in the head with his fist and make me do it again when it wasn't neat enough"
...is want I want to say but instead say something like, "thanks, my dad was into architecture and drafting so I guess he sorta passed it on" awkward laugh
Today I slipped. Bad.
My mom saw a lot of it but never did anything except occasionally saying his name loudly in pretend horror when he crossed a line again.
We went to church growing up which really gave me a fucked up view of the universe and even more fucked up view of myself.
I could never bring myself to cut them out completely. I moved across the country, I didn't talk to them outside of a monthly FaceTime, which I could manage. It was easier than trying to bring up the past.
I'd begun to think I no longer hated him, that I was mostly "over it" and was just indifferent to him. But then he got cancer. Actually, that's not right. What happened was, he got better and I was disappointed. I guess I still hated him afterall.
But I didn't think I hated my mom. I mostly felt sorry for her. 'What could she have really done?', I would think. A lot, actually, once I started really asking that question. She had brothers and sisters that lived nearby and she was close with. Her parents lived nearby. She was a teacher, even a Sunday School teacher. She would have done something for one of her students if they came to her. But she didn't for me.
Maybe I did hate her.
I told this to a friend who had her abusive mother die recently. They reconnected at the end and it was really meaningful to her. She told me not to miss my chance to talk to them, to my mom at least.
Last week, I told my mom I was going out of town for a golf tournament and she asked me to tell her how it went. For some reason, one the drive home, I did. I finished ok but had a miserable final round when I was in contention to win after the first 2. I told her this and she tried to cheer me up and she said "I love you" and I guess I snapped.
> "No you don't. If you did, you would have TRIED to do something to protect me from dad (1 Cor 13:7) [...love always protects...].
> But you didn't."
That's not all I said but that was the harshest part. I've let his worst past-on trait, my temper, get the best of me and I've accidently started the conversation I've been dreading for the past 2 years.