Father

On Thanksgiving my dad decided to chose that special dinner to heavily debate his political and religious beliefs. I wanted to avoid it but Brett jumped right in and it turned into a long discussion/argument. Basically my father has completely opposite beliefs from Brett and I. That is fine but his beliefs are outdated and ignorant and he really couldn't come up with a rational point that would sway Brett or I. With that in mind my father is seems to be convinced our minds need to be changed. Well this argument ruined dinner and the rest of the evening. Might not be so bad if dad actually would talk to us any other time in that day. But no, he justs want to debate and say nothing else. I even had my Mom try to tell me I should say goodbye to him before we left. I didn't want to and he went to bed without a word before I could. Question is why should I? Why should I hold on to some kind of relationship with this man. The same man who sacrificed a relationship with his children so he can work hard, doing what he supposedly dreamed of doing as a child and what ultimately made him miserable. Most of my childhood memories of him consist of him coming home on the weekends and being a major grump. Taking all his frustrations from the road into our home and throwing it at whomever dared approach him. He wasn't approachable, he was just scary. My teenage memories consist of getting high with him and then sitting through a big long lecture of how I'm neurotic and whatever religious or psychology mumbojumbo he had read that week. Because he was not around during the week to watch my teen angst he would usually psychoanalyze my actions and tell me while both of us were high on the weekend. Now at 26 all this imagery that I had of my dad, the intelligence, the wisdom of age, and the book smarts are all disappearing. What I now am left with is a image of a sad and miserable man who has been so secluded in his truck for the past 30+ years that he has no idea the impact his absence has had on his children and on his beliefs. A man who has never been able to learn to be happy without the help of drugs. A man whose parents were so messed up that he was never able to allow himself a normal life. I do pity this man but I also blame him. For all my struggles to live a happy life why couldn't he do the same. He would probably think that I have it easier and maybe I do but I do have a mental illness. I have dealt with years of suicidal thoughts and low self esteem. I have dealt with emotional and physical abuse from someone I thought I loved. I have dealt with watching several family members waste their lives with drug use and I was almost one of them. The difference is I learned from my experiences. I learned I have to deal with my problems and not medicate them. Now that I'm at the happiest I could ever wish to be I am being told by the most miserable man I know that my beliefs are wrong. Wait I'm not being told anything because this man barely talks to me, no he told my husband whom I share the same beliefs with. Now I feel like this man no longer even cares about a relationship with me but rather with my husband. Maybe because Brett is a much better man than Dad's own failed son. I can't blame him for wanting a good son figure. Too bad he doesn't want another good daughter figure. He should know that no matter how close he is to Brett, it doesn't erase the anger I feel towards him and his failures. He should also know that if he keeps pushing than he will lose me. At this point it won't be too hard.