Hanako @hanako
My dad, who I know as Matt and only Matt, is I guess a verbal abuser. I might be exaggerating though, but you can never really be sure can you? Maybe you can, I donโt know. I call him Matt because Iโve never loved him and I never will. Iโve lived with him for about 7 or 8 years; since i was 5 or 6, and Iโve never felt happy with him. He is my adoptive father so even if my parents get a divorce, Iโll most likely still have to see him but it wouldnโt be as much. The problem is, if my parents did get divorced me and my mom would probably have to live with someone since my mom isnโt a worker and doesnโt have a lot of money.
But this is specifically about Matt. Itโs weird, I keep almost typing my dad but I realize I donโt have to say it here. I donโt have to pretend.
He always yelled at me. When and how much varied, and it kind of changed through the years. Itโs less now, but when it happens it hurts. Whenever my dad yelled at me, he would start with some manipulation thing to make you think youโve done the worst thing possible, and then he uses it against you. Then heโd make these ridiculous comparisons like apparently if I donโt listen to my mom once, I donโt love her. Things like that. Then he would start connecting them to way bigger problems or things that I do, like getting the wrong fan from upstairs is like how I never listen to directions even though the directions were vague as shit. Then heโll do this thing where he insults me or looks at me like he really hates me, but says some absolute bullshit how heโs not mad just disappointed. SAME GOD DAMN THING. Then heโd say heโs โsorryโ or he โdidnโt mean it.โ โI promise Iโll yell less next timeโ is his favorite line. Heโs pretty shit at promises.
And on a daily basis Matt is just an asshole in general. He throws things at my face, he touches my face or slaps my arm and calls it a love tap. And when I say that was a slap he says โwant me to show you what a real slap is?โ And sometimes when he yelled at me, heโd fuck around with my arms or get in my face or push me a little. And whenever I cried he asked โwhy are you crying?โ like he didnโt fucking know.
My mom and dad get into fights about the stupidest things too. Once, they fought about how when I went to school theyโd show me how to open a lock for a locker, and Matt kept saying I should practice on one and my mom said I didnโt need to, and they started yelling so I left the room. After, I was going to go back to the room when Matt came out, and before I could, Matt grabbed me by my ankles and dragged me across the floor. I screamed at him to put me down but he wouldnโt listen. He dragged me for at least 10 feet before he let go. Of course he thought it was fine because I was smiling the whole time. I donโt know why. I was so pissed at him, but all I could do was smile. Thatโs what I had to do.
Matt used to do these things where he would fake punch me to show how good his โreaction timeโ was or some shit, but once I was moving towards him as he did it and he actually punched me with full force in the stomach. I wanted to scream because of the things I had to deal with like that. I was winded for 5 minutes and there was a bruise there for a week. But you know who cares right? I mean, Matt forgot about it and you know, forgot to actually feel bad and responsible for something he did in an hour. No big deal. I hate it when my โdadโ accidentally punches me in the gut, right?
When I was 6-8, Matt would suggest that there was a devil in my head telling me to do the โbad thingsโ I did, like ask my grandmother for a toy. Because APPARENTLY thatโs awful and antichrist? Also because of the house that I live in and the shit I deal with, I donโt believe in god. God can fuck off. And if he wanted joy and happiness and cared for the people of the world, why are there still serial killers and child rapists? Not the point of this, but just saying.
This is getting lengthy like my other post so just one more thing:
One of the most vivid memories of Matt yelling at me. I donโt specifically remember what I was getting yelled at for, I think it was mistaking his car for another personโs when he was picking me up from school. This is 3rd or 4th grade. He yelled at me about how his car doesnโt look like anyone elseโs, how is this a mistake you made, etc., etc. Then he said something that Iโll never forget. Something that will make me honestly hate him forever. He said that this was a mistake a child would make. And he asked โare you a child? huh, my name Are you a god damn child?โ And I was 9 or 10. and he was asking me if I was a child. Of course, I had to say no. I was crying so hard, and I had to say โno, Iโm not a child.โ Because if I said yes, what would happen? Would he yell at me more? The few times I went against Mattโs yelling and tried to fight back, it got used against me and I felt more hopeless and helpless than I did before. So when he asked if I was a child, I said no. Because I wasnโt. I was his daughter. You know, one of the smartest kids in class, almost perfect grades, did activities and extra curriculars. My parents didnโt see me as their child, they saw me as a person that needed to take care of things like an adult would. I knew what the big words meant, I was smart and didnโt need a lot of help. Except I did. I just never asked because I was afraid that they couldnโt count on me because I was normal and actually needed help. I didnโt want to disappoint my parents even though I hated them. Of course that didnโt matter, Matt still yelled and my mom was stillโฆherself. Nothing changed. Nothing will change.