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I'm not used to posting on forums about these things, so I'm sorry in advance if I ramble.
I'll start from the top; My dad and mom got divorced when I was barely walking. He cheated and left her, shoving us both into a small apartment and had to be taken to court just to pay for daycare. I don't remember spending any time with him before age seven. My mom remarried and at first, it was exciting and so so nice to have a man in my life who didn't treat me like a golden ticket. My stepdad was the one who was there for my scraped knees and five year old temper tantrums. He was my father figure, and so I called him 'Dad/Daddy'.
I didn't know what was wrong with calling the man I knew as my father figure 'Dad', but my real father made sure I never made that "mistake" again. I had to be eight years old (by then my mom and stepdad had relocated to another state, and I was visiting for summer) when my dad directly attacked me for the first time emotionally. If I was to ever call my step dad my father again, my real dad would have nothing to do with me. He would send me home and pretend like I never existed. At eight, and already looking for approval, those words burned.
The more and more time went on, I refused to call my step dad by any other name than his own. I progressively bowed and winced under my real dad's iron fist and belittling just looking for any sign of acceptance.
After so many years of rejecting the man that was solidly there for me, and forcing myself to accept my neglectful and uninterested father's ways I began experiencing abandonment issues. Soon followed the depression, anxiety and eventually self harm. I was eleven years old when the cutting started, and just barely twelve when I started drinking hard liquor and smoking.
My real father painted this image of me outside of the house; "I was the perfect angel who could do no wrong. I was loved by all and loved all. I was his Princess and Baby Girl." Why did he do this? Women. Oh man did women love a good father. Since my mother, my dad had (and to this day still) not been able to hold onto a good woman. The last was a raging psychopath that still had to file her divorce papers. But in the home and when he's found his temporary fix, I was ignored, enslaved, and absolutely looked down upon. I lived with this for two years, started up on drugs and the drinking never stopped. It eventually ended on a suicide attempt and I was admitted to a psychiatric ward and told by my father that I was just acting out. I had troubles with my mom, but soon moved back in with her and any troubles we had melted away.
Skipping forward,
I am eighteen, almost nineteen, now and living with my father. Not because I have no other choice, but because jobs aren't easy to come by in my mom's town. My boyfriend of two+ years came with me, and since the day we got off that plane we've both been talked down on, discouraged, neglected, and treated like utter garbage.
I could understand the possibility of disregarding your own child, but promising a good home and jobs to someone else's and then treating them just as badly?
When we talked to my dad about living with him, we were promised a roof, food, transportation and support. We were told we could finish high school and get our diplomas. My father is so selfish, the internet that he uses is under my boyfriend's name. We can rarely afford our groceries, and I have to make him dinner (and serve him like a king). Every single day I have to clean up after, and baby, this man. Clean his chew/spit cups, make sure his clothes are put away, make sure his dog doesn't eat his things, buy his animals' food and feed them daily. I have to clean this house top to bottom, or the odds I'm further away from grocery day increase. We don't have time in the day to complete high school, public or online. And if I don't clean the house, I'm called 'a failure', 'a child', 'absolutely lazy', and 'ungrateful'.
I am so beyond stressed every day of my 'new' life, that I've already received a work injury in my legs from constant stress and pressure from 'working' at home for him, and standing 8 hours straight at work.
I'm so ready to go back to my mom (who is worried sick every day because I tell her every detail of every day). The only reason my boyfriend and I made the trip here was to start a life together and get jobs. We have done everything we've set out to do (schooling excluded), and still we are children to my dad.
My boyfriend enjoys his job now. And I don't want to take that away from him because of how miserable our home life is. But god help me, if I could just get one day of rest without seven calls and the word 'baby' shoved down my throat any time I complain about anything... I could survive. I just want to go home. But I'm not sure if I can do that to my boyfriend.
Short version:
I don't want to make my boyfriend leave his job, but I can't stand living with, and taking care of, my emotionally damaging father. I'm starting to relapse in destructive thoughts and it scares me to think I could hurt myself again out of impulse.
If anyone has any advice... please, please help me at least put my mind at ease.
I'll start from the top; My dad and mom got divorced when I was barely walking. He cheated and left her, shoving us both into a small apartment and had to be taken to court just to pay for daycare. I don't remember spending any time with him before age seven. My mom remarried and at first, it was exciting and so so nice to have a man in my life who didn't treat me like a golden ticket. My stepdad was the one who was there for my scraped knees and five year old temper tantrums. He was my father figure, and so I called him 'Dad/Daddy'.
I didn't know what was wrong with calling the man I knew as my father figure 'Dad', but my real father made sure I never made that "mistake" again. I had to be eight years old (by then my mom and stepdad had relocated to another state, and I was visiting for summer) when my dad directly attacked me for the first time emotionally. If I was to ever call my step dad my father again, my real dad would have nothing to do with me. He would send me home and pretend like I never existed. At eight, and already looking for approval, those words burned.
The more and more time went on, I refused to call my step dad by any other name than his own. I progressively bowed and winced under my real dad's iron fist and belittling just looking for any sign of acceptance.
After so many years of rejecting the man that was solidly there for me, and forcing myself to accept my neglectful and uninterested father's ways I began experiencing abandonment issues. Soon followed the depression, anxiety and eventually self harm. I was eleven years old when the cutting started, and just barely twelve when I started drinking hard liquor and smoking.
My real father painted this image of me outside of the house; "I was the perfect angel who could do no wrong. I was loved by all and loved all. I was his Princess and Baby Girl." Why did he do this? Women. Oh man did women love a good father. Since my mother, my dad had (and to this day still) not been able to hold onto a good woman. The last was a raging psychopath that still had to file her divorce papers. But in the home and when he's found his temporary fix, I was ignored, enslaved, and absolutely looked down upon. I lived with this for two years, started up on drugs and the drinking never stopped. It eventually ended on a suicide attempt and I was admitted to a psychiatric ward and told by my father that I was just acting out. I had troubles with my mom, but soon moved back in with her and any troubles we had melted away.
Skipping forward,
I am eighteen, almost nineteen, now and living with my father. Not because I have no other choice, but because jobs aren't easy to come by in my mom's town. My boyfriend of two+ years came with me, and since the day we got off that plane we've both been talked down on, discouraged, neglected, and treated like utter garbage.
I could understand the possibility of disregarding your own child, but promising a good home and jobs to someone else's and then treating them just as badly?
When we talked to my dad about living with him, we were promised a roof, food, transportation and support. We were told we could finish high school and get our diplomas. My father is so selfish, the internet that he uses is under my boyfriend's name. We can rarely afford our groceries, and I have to make him dinner (and serve him like a king). Every single day I have to clean up after, and baby, this man. Clean his chew/spit cups, make sure his clothes are put away, make sure his dog doesn't eat his things, buy his animals' food and feed them daily. I have to clean this house top to bottom, or the odds I'm further away from grocery day increase. We don't have time in the day to complete high school, public or online. And if I don't clean the house, I'm called 'a failure', 'a child', 'absolutely lazy', and 'ungrateful'.
I am so beyond stressed every day of my 'new' life, that I've already received a work injury in my legs from constant stress and pressure from 'working' at home for him, and standing 8 hours straight at work.
I'm so ready to go back to my mom (who is worried sick every day because I tell her every detail of every day). The only reason my boyfriend and I made the trip here was to start a life together and get jobs. We have done everything we've set out to do (schooling excluded), and still we are children to my dad.
My boyfriend enjoys his job now. And I don't want to take that away from him because of how miserable our home life is. But god help me, if I could just get one day of rest without seven calls and the word 'baby' shoved down my throat any time I complain about anything... I could survive. I just want to go home. But I'm not sure if I can do that to my boyfriend.
Short version:
I don't want to make my boyfriend leave his job, but I can't stand living with, and taking care of, my emotionally damaging father. I'm starting to relapse in destructive thoughts and it scares me to think I could hurt myself again out of impulse.
If anyone has any advice... please, please help me at least put my mind at ease.
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