The home of the matter.

Sigh. Is it any wonder I never bothered getting up early? Over the years, I got used to the teasing for getting up late, so I just got up late so I’d avoid the teasing for getting up early. The ol` “What are YOU doing up this early?” as if I was incapable of doing it.

My mind is amazing at hearing the exact opposite of what people are saying. A million times my dad’s said to me, “You could get up in the morning if you wanted to.” Unfortunately, that’s not what I really hear. I hear, “You’re pathetic for getting up late.” “You couldn’t get up early if you tried.” “You don’t really want to get up early, so you won’t even try.” And all those other perversions of an ordinarily benign – or dare I say positive – statement.

I don’t hear my dad saying, “Good morning.” My mind echos, “What the fuck are you doing up this early?” Is it any wonder I just give him the silent treatment these days rather than curse him out?

What’s horrible is that I get the same reaction from my sister.

“So, what are you doing up this morning?”

She is NOT asking me, “What the fuck are you doing up this morning?” She is NOT saying, “It’s a cold day in hell when you wake up early.” She is NOT saying, “Took a lot of effort haul your ass out of bed, didn’t it?”

She was just asking what my general plan for the morning was. I mumbled something about breakfast and left the kitchen.

This is easily going to be the most painful thing for me to deal with. For years, I just assumed I’d be glad when he was dead. Curse him out and tell the world what a horrible father he was. But then I think of how I’d feel afterwards. The baggage I carry right now is only going to get bigger as I get older.

Yet, I feel like I don’t know how to communicate with these people. I’m reminded of shit my mom would do to let me know she wanted me to do things. I believe the trash is the one I’d think of the most. If she wanted me to change/take out the trash, she’d leave it in an open area. And I’d just walk around it, not even noticing it. I still don’t take the trash out. It’s just not something I want to do. So I don’t. There are other things I’d be willing to do. But, instead, they’d harp on some bullshit about how I have to “contribute”. Family? You call taking out the trash is my contribution to the family? Some fucking family.

So I’ve been taught to communicate through inconvenience. Do something which makes someone else go, “Hmm, maybe I’m supposed to do something!” I can’t think of examples beyond purposely failing out of college. Actually, that’s a decent example. They move the trash to say to me, “You should do something about this.” I failed out of college to say, “I’m not happy with this.”

In both cases, our reactions are to shrug and not really react at all. “What? I’m supposed to do something?”

And that bullshit last night. Him telling me to not be on the internet as much so I can study? He picks 2 AM on a Saturday night to tell me this? He dares come back from travel and assume “Oh, he’s fucking up again!” No! Fuck you! I had a good week and I don’t need some twit harassing me about shit when I’m actually doing just fine. No encouragement. Never any fucking encouragement, and never any fucking empathy. Just do your shit and don’t fuck up. And thus my demons were born deep in my childhood. Tough love may work for getting you to clean your plate, but not for everything.

Hrm.

*points to door*

Opportunity.

“I’m sorry I came across the way I did last night. I’ll make it up to you.”

*cocks head*

That almost seems empathetic in text. He’s not a bad guy, just kind of a fuck-up as a father. They say most of our behavior is shaped in the first three to five years. Guess when he was most absent. Yeah, you got it. First, say, fifteen years? And then he acts like he was always there, treating Wendi and I like we’re five. Like suddenly he realized, “Oh shit, you mean I have to actually be involved?” Mom raised Wendi and I. That’s just kind of how it happened.

I’m going to grab some breakfast. I’m just venting, I wrote without knowing what I was going to say. If I think I can avoid aggrevating my GROIN, I’ll go do some freeweights at the Y. My arms are 100%.