For the last ten years, when he’s been pouring out to me, I’ve felt like an emotional punch-bag, taking what he’s got to say, and rolling with it. Now, I have a bad day (possibly my first in ten years) and say some things he doesn’t like about his political feelings (I’d like to mention that even if he didn’t raise his voice, he was ill-tempered and belligerent). I’ve put up with his emotional outpourings for years, but that’s OK, because he’s talking about my family, not me. And I make one statement and storm off like a spurned wife in a soap opera (I repeat, ONE BAD DAY), and I’m the worst person ever. I’ve apologised if I upset him, and he still gives me grief. In the process of trying to explain myself to him, he calls me Spook and questions my sexuality. I’m 26 and unmarried, because I refuse to commit to any one woman. See a pattern forming? Again, I roll, and hope we’ve made up our differences, so I made a joke in response to jokes he makes (that’s right, folks, a stinking, lousy joke) about Bernard Manning, after he tried to justify himself to me by listing his non-English friends. (What fucking century is this guy living in?)
I tried to make it up to him, by giving him an honest, open declaration of how much I love him and how sad I am that an argument has disrupted our relationship. He comes back with accusations of spite and vitriol.
People have tried to make me choose between my parents since they split, but I’ve always felt the choice is both or none. Do I now forsake my family because of this? No, that would be unfair on the innocent, it’s between myself and my father. I’m not willing to bend to his will; I’m an adult and I have opinions, opinions he may not agree with, but he and my mother were the ones who taught me to make up my own mind, and stand by my beliefs. However, I feel nothing short of grovelling will make up this situation, and I won’t do that. I feel he’s (again) beating up on me because he’s upset and I’m not taking this one. Maybe the solution is to allow him to get over the grudge he’s formed. I know where he lives; birthday/Christmas cards and the occasional hand written note will let him know I’m still thinking of him, whilst letting him get over it. Right now, I’m so angry I’m shaking.