Fuck you Dad

Not everything in my life is kink or sex, a lot of it is normal and vanilla. This post is in no way kinky, but I had to write, I had to get it out.

This is what I can’t say on facebook, what I cannot write under my real name. Family would read it and get shitty. They will all have an opinion on it, and none of them were there.

Yesterday, my wonderful Husband drove my sons and I to my Father’s care home to say goodbye. He didn’t even want us in his flat, we stayed in the communal lounge.
He’s terminally ill with cancer, “his time” expired in the coldest part of winter. He is alive yes, but he is a mess. He doesn’t look himself, or even sound himself.

He doesn’t know my children, that was his choice. I wasn’t a planned child and I was pretty much cut from him my whole life. Until I tracked him down to invite him to my wedding 2 years ago. All I wanted all my life was a father to love and protect me. But I had no father, no dad. My mother put me in extreme danger by her shite relationship choices after the fling with my father, and as I result a children’s charity were actually my legal guardians after the abuse. I so wish I had been adopted.

I’ve tried so hard to be a good parent, without a good example to follow. I nearly died when my first child was born. Then I had a mental breakdown due to PTSD after my second was born, partly because I thought I might die again, partly because of violent abuse in my childhood. I love my kids, and they were both planned and wanted. Even though I have found it hard as hell, I love them both dearly. I’m just the child who was discovered too late in pregnancy to abort – I’ve been told that to my barstard face. The accidentally pregnancy when they were drunk.

My Husband realised I was uncomfortable trying to talk to my Dad, that my Father was looking stressed and so he took the kiddos for a walk to a playpark he googled so we could be alone.
My Father wasted no time – as soon as the door shut behind my children he told me my youngest was the worst child he’d ever met. That I was parenting so badly and needed to sort myself out. Let I was letting him be bad, encouraging it. That my kid would get murdered by my teenage son because he is so goddam annoying. Seriously. That he was headed to a jail.
He kept saying in various ways how crappy a job I’m doing of parenting, so I say “I think hes got aspergers, he doesn’t do well around new people and situations” and he shut me down, stating again my kid was off the scale naughty, and in no way special.

All this because after 3 hours in a car, he stood on armchairs. He took his shoes off first, so his feet weren’t leaving dirty marks – polite and considerate play. He wasn’t being an animal, he wasn’t screeching or shouting. Parents or aunts/uncles might know the game “the floor is lava”? Well it was just that, then he put cushions in a row and used them like a bed. Apparently also the stuff of savages.

He kept complaining at me for well over half an hour, I was crying, but didn’t want to leave a man I might not see alive again. Rather than stopping when I cried he held my hand and said something like “its for your own good. He needs to change. You need to change”. I said sarcasticly something like sorry for crying, and “its the first time you’ve cared enough about me to tell me off” and he says hes trying to help me.

I told him as we left that he won’t be seeing my children again – even if he sees me again. I’ve been crying pretty much non stop since. Yet here I am, in the back seat of our car, my littlest guy holding my hand as he dozed off. My big lad in the front talking geeky stuff to my Husband in the front seats.
With my awful savage children.

FUCK YOU DAD, FUCK YOU. You don’t get to parent me 30 something years after you abandoned me. FUCK YOU. I will love and protect them, even from you, Dad. You are alive, but they just lost a grandfather.