Being a teenager and having a parent disappoint you is probably one of the hardest things that can happen to you while growing up. It’s something not everyone can understand unless they’ve gone through it Just like you can’t know the feeling of breaking a bone if you’ve never done so. My dad was my best friend. The person I looked up to with great respect. He was a father and mother to me because my mom was always working and never really around. He got into drinking. It was nothing bad at first Just a couple every now and then with his friends.
Eventually he took it too far and all I could remember was curling up in my bed and wishing he would sober up. I hated seeing him drunk it scared me. I was Just 14 years old. I was always expecting the worst because in movies I had seen alcoholic parent’s and what they did to their kids when they would drink. Every time he would pass by I could feel the little hairs on the back of my neck rise and my muscles tense up. I have three brothers who at the time were 16, 12, and 2. When my dad would drink he would always pick on me. I always asked myself why me?
I figured since I as the only girl I was seen as a weak target to him. Growing up I realized that that wasn’t the reason, I was the only one who stood up to him and told him how I felt and that what he was doing was wrong and therefore he hated the fact that somebody could actually stand up to him and tell him to stop. My mom was always scared of him, scared that one day he would react in a violent way like he had done in the previous months. I tried to always be around in case he decided to start an argument so I could Just Jump in and protect my mother because my brothers would Just cry ND wouldn’t know what to do.
Being the brave one wasn’t easy. It took me a lot of courage to stand up to my own father at such a young age and tell him that I didn’t like the way he was treating us. Remembering back to the first time I did so I can still feel the cold wooden floor as soon as his warm and heavy strong palm hit the side of my face. Not knowing what to do I stay there crying not because of the pain but because I never thought my best friend, the man I looked up to with so much respect would ever hurt me. Days passed ND I waited for an apology but never got one.
Months passed by and my dad Just seem to get worse, constantly I would end up with a small bruise somewhere on my face from his strong arm. His words got stronger and stronger to where the words hurt more than the punches. Eventually we got professional help. It wasn’t easy talking to strangers about our problems. Things got better for a while, the physical abuse stopped it was Just the verbal. It’s been two years now and my dad and I don’t talk I’m still waiting for that apology but as time passes I lose more and more hope.
