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I’d really appreciate it if my dad would stop depending on my existence to make him feel better
I am your child. I am NOT your therapist
I’m not, and should have NEVER been, obligated to call you or talk to you for you to be able to function
I’m 21 years old and you’ve been dependent on me ever since I was a toddler ( maybe younger! )
YOU are in your mid 50s, and you STILL “ need me “ to be able to have a good day
I wish that you would get a therapist and start working on yourself BY yourself, because this is BEYOND ridiculous
I don’t want you to be sad. I want you to be happy and functional and a better person than you are ( because this also goes beyond all the enmeshment/child neglect/manipulation/child abuse in general you’ve committed ).
But you need to STOP depending ON ME for YOUR HAPPINESS!
okay so because i was having a mental breakdown number 69 of the month i had this really interesting convo w/ my dad today
essentially he was like “well you were feeling sad…because of dance placements? let’s just put this into prospective-“ then proceeded to go on the classic “you got a roof over ur head u live in a first world country you don’t have to fight for your food” yadayada
let me tell you dad, that spit grit and a whole lotta duct tape method that worked for you at 20 isn’t gonna work for your possibly nerodivergent but won’t tell you teenage “daughter”.
because that makes me feel really guilty and it invalidates my stressors!
this isn’t a huge issue for the rest of the world, but it is for me. because those placements show my improvement, because being trusted with a main role shows i’m good at it!
and because i associate those things with each other that means that they hold a lotta weight to me.
i fucking hate the “putting things into a bigger picture” method. it invalidates my stressors and triggers, it makes me feel guilty over my privilege for the seventh time that week, and i feel even worse for feeling stressed over something that’s making me feel stressed!!
and i know that other people in the world are struggling. i know this, and i’m not naive. they are not a part of this issue i have right not and i will not make them a part of it.
btw dad if you ever see this post know that i know that this isn’t a fucking perfect country. at this moment we run a good chance of getting a ruler that takes away my rights as a queer person. i will not act like america is perfect. and i will not ignore its flaws. i will not let your flaws in your methods pass as tough love because i don’t need tough love.
what you’re doing is you’re making me less likely to reach out to you if i need somebody.
It just struck me again how fricken weird my family is. The memory for today is that my great great uncle (my grandma's uncle) was an artist and sculpted a life-sized tree out of concrete in his living room, on the walls of which he had painted a life-sized panorama of a small village in Japan.
Sadly, I never saw this majestic living room. But my dad did, and he said he remembers his great uncle dancing with a puppet that he had carved, to some waltz, in that room.
weird "hey is this abuse?" thought that popped in my head but one time while my dad was teaching me to drive i wanted to like get breakfast and hang out with my friend so i texted him that and then went to go do that and then when i got home he was unpacking groceries and i was like oh cool whats for dinner and he was like meatloaf and i dont like meatloaf so i made a face and then he proceeded to scream at me for 5 whole minutes in the front yard about "wasting his time and his life" so then after that i went to the park behind my old middle school and stayed there until after sundown when my mom begged me to come home. my dad gave me a half hearted apology and there wasnt anything to eat so i had stove ramen
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