Quote:
Originally Posted by Inner Dirt
My dad used me as a punching bag and abused women. When I got big enough to fight back he said he could shoot me and get away with it.
My only regret was never laying a hand on him and being the bigger man.
Putting a positive spin on it I was not afraid of anything. I was a straight A student, small for my age till I was 13, so I was a target for bullies. I always figured no kid can hit as hard as my dad so the bullies were in for a surprise, most of them don't want someone not afraid to fight. Until High School I wore dress shoes and was an expert delivering a kick to the shins.
My father was annoying as hell in his later years and when he died at 66 he cost me some loot, I found out I could not afford down the road. Wife #3 he met at his 40th High School reunion. My dad was a 2 sport letterman and probably the most popular kid in school with constant write ups in the local paper for his baseball slugging and TDs he scored. He did not know Phyllis existed in HS and she was smitten acting like she was the HS girl worshiping athletes 40 years later.
My father just mentally abused her, not physically, but when he became frail and sickly in his last couple years I fielded daily phone calls saying she was abusing him. I knew it was crap and if she called me and said she just shot my dad, I would have risked my own freedom to help her cover it up.
I found out he left her in financial dire straits on his two pensions he took a higher monthly rate instead of having survivor benefits. He left all his cash and investments to my sister. My poor step mother spent all her money helping her 3 hot looking daughters married to losers. She was a month from being homeless. I felt so sorry for this poor women. I paid for my father's funeral with my sister not kicking in a dime, paid off both car loans,
cleaned out all the worthless crap my father hoarded, he still had a broken
1960's tape recorder that died in the early 70's. I helped him move many times. I gave her $45,000 in cash and spent a lot of time that impacted running my business. My mother died 45 days earlier and I was also executor of her will. Life was a mess.
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That's a rough story.
You did well to come out of it in one piece.
My dad passed in 1966 in Chicago, aged 36.
While I was only 8 years old, and didn't know him well,
the majority of my early memories of him are good ones.
He was never mean to my mother - not sure how I'd have coped with that.
I believe those early years are crucial in forming the person you become.
While it's not impossible to end up okay, it makes it really difficult.
