I had to re-read and then edit some of my writing yesterday about when I started college--about when I had my blog in high school and about my dad's place in all of that. The way he shut me down, the way he controlled me.
I understand the motives behind controlling behavior though. I see it every day... and for some reason, I never thought to put my dad under that same lens.
I think my dad was nervous about me having a voice.
And I think my dad is scared shitless of me today, knowing that the only control he has over me these days is from distant lingering memories. There is nothing stopping me from blowing his whole life up with words and revealing him for the awful person he is.
So I guess I spent like, close to 20 years now angry thinking about how much this man robbed me blind... and seeing that, I don't think he has a lot to show for what he robbed me. And that's supposed to make me feel better, I think, that he's not living a life of total ease, but it just makes me feel frustrated in a different way--that he was unwilling or unable to see, long ago, his awful behaviors and correct them not just for my sake... but for his own sake too. He ruined more than just my life. He ruined his own life.