Three Strikes

I got back on Tuesday from my visiting my family back east. Most of it was very enjoyable— my mom, my sister, our relatives, almost everyone was great. But as I’m pacing around my condo tonight, there’s one person there that I am still furious with, and that is my dad. He managed to enrage me three of the four days that I was there. Strike one: he told me I am more like his brother then I am like him. I personally would take that as a compliment because my uncle is a very intelligent man who has done very well for himself. But I know what my dad meant by that. My dad is a PhD and a retired professor, and my uncle has a high school education. My dad sees him as a roove and a redneck. I am the only one in my family without an advanced degree. I personally don’t care— I’ve met plenty of brilliant people who only had GED degrees, and plenty of idiots who had doctorates from the likes of Yale. But wow… thanks for ****ing disowning me. He went even further that night, telling our cousin that I liked the kids in New Zealand better than the kids in the USA because they weren’t as competitive. What. The. ****. I liked the kids in NZ better, it’s true, but competitiveness had ****all to do with it. I liked them because they weren’t snotty. That was when I went upstairs and posted Livid. I decided not to fly back early because this was for honoring my gran, and I wasn’t going to make it all about my dad pissing me off by being a douche bag. Strike two: He implied on the night of my gran’s wake that my severe depression in high school had not really been that big a deal because it wasn’t “physical.” Okay, well I think it got pretty physical Strike three: on the way back to the airport he kept talking nonstop about the garcinia cambogia he’s been taking for weight loss and how it’s really helped him. I know he means well, but a) it’s insensitive to force that topic on someone when you know they’ve had eating disorders their whole life, and b) he assumes that his issues are the same as my issues. I fully realize that I’m a fat person… I don’t need hints the size of megaliths being dropped on me. That doesn’t give him the right to shove his ****ing appetite suppressants at me. I know he’s an idiot. I know he loves me deep down. I know he’s damaged goods in some big ways and I need to take that into account. But Christ on a mother****ing stick— why doesn’t he SEE me?!?!?!?! He doesn’t get me at all. He sees me as some slacker who is inferior to him and my mom with her Master’s and my sis with her PhD. The only thing I would want to spend the time and money on in grad school is the one thing I can’t do. I’ve explained this to him many, many times. He forgets. I’m not explaining it again. He really, really pushes my buttons and infuriates me. I don’t really want to talk to him ever again, but I’m designing the website for his business, so I I will have to for the next few weeks. Damnit.

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I'm really sorry that you have to deal with this.

My dad once told me i was like his brothers who were in business - always after the next thing, never satisfied, never happy. A comment like that really sticks in your mind.

It sounds very passive aggressive to me, I’m so sorry.

Have you ever spoken to him about what he says and how it makes you feel? I say this as a parent of an adult.

There’s absolutely no point in speaking with him about it— he’s like that with everyone and is utterly clueless about how his words impact everyone around him.

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