A Personal Sideblog of Sorts

Sometimes when i think im being too mean to my dad in my thoughts or words i remember that when i was 100 days since my near-fatal suicide attempt that put me in a coma, i was really proud of myself for making it past a big milestone like that, so i wanted to ask if i could have one of the homestuck plushies from a while back (i believe for fans by fans) since they were getting rid of the last ones for cheap and they wouldnt be around anymore after that.

And i was scared to ask him about this because i thought he might yell at me. So in my therapy session, i said that. And of course they said "well i see youre anxious about your dad yelling at you, but i think he will be very proud of you if you approach him with such a big milestone. how about we work on some strategies to help us talk to him without being scared?" because ultimately, above all else, a victimized child is an unreliable narrator at worst.

And after working so hard on this fear of my father i approach him and say that maybe i could have a homestuck plushie since they were on sale for cheap and it had been a long time since i had tried to kill myself and i thought i was doing a pretty good job.

And of course he yelled at me, said that i only came to him when i needed him because i was so ungrateful, said that i was psychologically manipulative and evil just like his sister, all these things until i was crying. And yet he got me the plushies while this was happening. Like "yes i hate you and youre worthless scum and here you are". And he was trying to get the cat to sit with me so id feel better. All the while telling me about how awful i was.

And this is always what happened. He would hit me and i would cry and then at the end i would ask for a hug because thats what kids on tv did to their parents did when they were sad and he would say yes and i would be held by the arms that were just hitting me a few minutes ago and sobbing into him while he told me about what a bad child i was and i absorbed that and let it become a part of me.

I dont have the brain cells to psychoanalyze this right now but that probably means something. I think it made it harder for me to hate him, since he was being nice to me, clearly i was the problem and i deserved all of this for whatever evil things i was doing (being a child).

When the plushies arrived, i couldnt look at them without choking up and feeling sick. I loved homestuck and yet it hurt me so much. Looking at the mayor made me think about what i went through to get that mayor plushie and it didnt make me feel good to have it in the end because it really wasnt worth it.

Moral of the story is that its okay to hate your dad if he sucks and also get a new therapist sometimes. Having a therapist as a child is especially difficult because you want to say enough that they understand but not enough that they take you away. But sometimes this intersection is impossible. Sometimes what you went through warrants getting taken away because its no way for a child to be raised.