I wasn't planning on writing here this morning, but I read someone's writing and it was so honest and raw. I have been weepy off and on for the past month or so because I so miss my friend who passed away a year ago and a couple of weeks. I just want to talk to her. I talk to her in my thoughts, but it just isn't the same. I miss Margie so much. I miss the talks we would just have. We could talk about anything and she never judged me, or said hurtful words, that would make me feel like a piece of shit. Which brings me to write about my parents.
We don't pick our parents. It is like a crapshoot. On the outside my family looked so fine. Both dad and mom highly educated. My sister is highly educated and super intelligent. She programmed mx missiles and minutemen for the government as a civilian. She doesn't have good people skills. Back to my dad though. I will start with my dad because I feel he is the brunt of my issues. He is very judgmental. Not just me mind you. Since I think that I am super sensitive in feelings and emotions he used that to push my buttons. He has hurt my feelings so much over time that I have a wall inside to protect myself. I am getting teary here. I just don't get why he does this. He still does this and projects his superiority over people and I feel he does. I do forgive him for all this, but it doesn't make it right. Make me wonder exactly how his childhood was growing up. He was hurtful physically at times and verbally. For example: one time during the Winter I didn't want to practice the piano for an hour. I was under 12 years old. He grabbed my arm, I was sitting on the piano bench. No shoes on, he dragged me to the front door, opened it, and through me outside in the below zero temps without boots and jacket. My mom was downstairs doing laundry. When she came up, she asked where I was and my dad said outside. She looked outside and I was still standing on the cement porch. She motioned to go around to the back. She let me inside and told me to go downstairs. Well, I went downstairs, and you guessed it, my dad came downstairs, pulling his belt out of his pants. Yes, I go whipped. It hurt so bad. Then he dragged me upstairs and told me to sit and practice the piano. WTF
To this day I still don't understand why. Couldn't we have worked out a compromise about practicing the piano? I played the piano well, my sister is the one who had the talent, it came naturally to her. Until I moved out and started my own life I always thought that my sister was better at the piano than me. I have found out about myself that I am not all that bad. Now my sister has the piano, though she doesn't play it, she is too busy. He could have given that piano to me.
I have more to write about my dad, but this is enough for now. He just makes me so sad when I think about how he treated me when I was younger. I forgive him, but I don't love him or respect him very much.