I know that hate is a strong word, but it's really all I can come up with at this point in time... I guess I'll offer some background information, but I'm just in a rant-y mood, so bear with me?
I'm 19 years old, my parents divorced when I was almost 2, and my father got custody of my younger sister and I, but he didn't want us, my grandparents (his parents), wanted him to want us. So as a result, my sister and I spent our first few years living with my grandparents while my father was out partying and such, and also spending a great deal of time with my mother. One of the things that always bugged me was that my father never paid a single cent of Child Support (he made more than my mom), but I've gotten over that now...
When I was around 7, he dumped his long-term girlfriend (she in turn had our power and water turned off), so we went to stay with one of my father's female 'friends'. Needless to say, he knew her a great deal better than my sister and I did, and they wound up getting married a few months later. In this time, my father never approached my sister or me, though we approached him. We told him that we hated her, but he didn't listen. We hated her because she hated us. She had no interest in getting to know us, just prettying us up like poodles to show off, and treating us like live in slaves.
They got married, and I cried.
A while after they got married, my stepmother decided she wanted her own kids, forcing my father to undo his vasectomy and give her what she wanted, again not even discussing anything with my sister and I. My father got the son he always wanted, and my sister and I were pushed even more into the shadows. Shortly after the birth of my brother, Christmas rolled around, we were all at my grandparent's house, and my Aunt took this time to tell my stepmother that everyone in the family hated her, and to yell at my father for letting his wife treat us like dirt. Things got physical, and the cops were called...
I hate Christmas to this day.
My father and sister had a fight a few months after this, and she threatened to beat his face in with a baseball bat, so needless to say she got kicked out, and went to live with my mother. I was now all alone to face the brunt of my father and stepmother. I will say now that my father never physically abused me, but he did much worse with his words, and he basically ruined me as a person.
My stepmother got pregnant again, (I was 14 at this time), and they all decided (without me) that we were going to be moving into a bigger house. This house had to be built though, and while they'd worked out where THEY were going to live, Little Me was just SOL. I was supposed to go live with my grandparents, but my father would have had to sign custody over to them, and he was afraid that would bite him in the butt, so I went to live with my mom; only temporarily though.
A few months later, I was living with my father, pregnant stepmother, and halfbrother again, but I had tasted the good-life, a house where I was loved and respected, and it was hard to adjust. I was 15 and I made the hardest decision in my life (I was terrified of my father); I told my father i wanted to live with my mother permanently. He didn't say a word, just packed my stuff up and I was gone.
Soon after, I developed some mental problems and tried to kill myself, so I was in a Mental Hospital for a few months. To this day, my father thinks I was faking, though he's the only one. The therapists all tried to tell me that I needed to stop letting him hurt me, but I couldn't. I got out of the hospital, and my father and I started to grow apart. It was then that I began my life-long battle with my Eating Disorders.
My two brothers have no idea who I am, and at family functions my father barely talks to me. He says he's ashamed of me and who I've become, though I personally think I turned out alright. To him and his wife, I'm nothing but a delinquent, I smoke and do drugs and will wind up pregnant any day now; if he actually knew me, he'd know I don't smoke cigarettes, I've never touched a drug in my life, and am saving myself for marriage (personal choice, not religion based).
We go months without speaking or seeing each other, and he only ever contacts me to brag about something it seems.
Yesterday he texted me, the first time I've heard from him in months, to tell me how he just came back from Florida
My mother and stepfather are very poor, so I can only assume he does this to rub salt in the wound; it's been four years, and my father still doesn't understand that I'd rather be loved, then go on vacations and have shiny new things.
WHOO! I feel a lot better now that that's all off my chest... Sorry for the super-long ramble everyone!
<3
I'm 19 years old, my parents divorced when I was almost 2, and my father got custody of my younger sister and I, but he didn't want us, my grandparents (his parents), wanted him to want us. So as a result, my sister and I spent our first few years living with my grandparents while my father was out partying and such, and also spending a great deal of time with my mother. One of the things that always bugged me was that my father never paid a single cent of Child Support (he made more than my mom), but I've gotten over that now...
When I was around 7, he dumped his long-term girlfriend (she in turn had our power and water turned off), so we went to stay with one of my father's female 'friends'. Needless to say, he knew her a great deal better than my sister and I did, and they wound up getting married a few months later. In this time, my father never approached my sister or me, though we approached him. We told him that we hated her, but he didn't listen. We hated her because she hated us. She had no interest in getting to know us, just prettying us up like poodles to show off, and treating us like live in slaves.
They got married, and I cried.
A while after they got married, my stepmother decided she wanted her own kids, forcing my father to undo his vasectomy and give her what she wanted, again not even discussing anything with my sister and I. My father got the son he always wanted, and my sister and I were pushed even more into the shadows. Shortly after the birth of my brother, Christmas rolled around, we were all at my grandparent's house, and my Aunt took this time to tell my stepmother that everyone in the family hated her, and to yell at my father for letting his wife treat us like dirt. Things got physical, and the cops were called...
I hate Christmas to this day.
My father and sister had a fight a few months after this, and she threatened to beat his face in with a baseball bat, so needless to say she got kicked out, and went to live with my mother. I was now all alone to face the brunt of my father and stepmother. I will say now that my father never physically abused me, but he did much worse with his words, and he basically ruined me as a person.
My stepmother got pregnant again, (I was 14 at this time), and they all decided (without me) that we were going to be moving into a bigger house. This house had to be built though, and while they'd worked out where THEY were going to live, Little Me was just SOL. I was supposed to go live with my grandparents, but my father would have had to sign custody over to them, and he was afraid that would bite him in the butt, so I went to live with my mom; only temporarily though.
A few months later, I was living with my father, pregnant stepmother, and halfbrother again, but I had tasted the good-life, a house where I was loved and respected, and it was hard to adjust. I was 15 and I made the hardest decision in my life (I was terrified of my father); I told my father i wanted to live with my mother permanently. He didn't say a word, just packed my stuff up and I was gone.
Soon after, I developed some mental problems and tried to kill myself, so I was in a Mental Hospital for a few months. To this day, my father thinks I was faking, though he's the only one. The therapists all tried to tell me that I needed to stop letting him hurt me, but I couldn't. I got out of the hospital, and my father and I started to grow apart. It was then that I began my life-long battle with my Eating Disorders.
My two brothers have no idea who I am, and at family functions my father barely talks to me. He says he's ashamed of me and who I've become, though I personally think I turned out alright. To him and his wife, I'm nothing but a delinquent, I smoke and do drugs and will wind up pregnant any day now; if he actually knew me, he'd know I don't smoke cigarettes, I've never touched a drug in my life, and am saving myself for marriage (personal choice, not religion based).
We go months without speaking or seeing each other, and he only ever contacts me to brag about something it seems.
Yesterday he texted me, the first time I've heard from him in months, to tell me how he just came back from Florida
My mother and stepfather are very poor, so I can only assume he does this to rub salt in the wound; it's been four years, and my father still doesn't understand that I'd rather be loved, then go on vacations and have shiny new things.
WHOO! I feel a lot better now that that's all off my chest... Sorry for the super-long ramble everyone!
<3
