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I love my father, but I sometimes don't particularly like him. He has this nasty little habit of assigning the worst of motivations to my words and actions. Is it even worth it to keep the respect of someone who is so disrespectful of me? Why am I staying closeted for someone who seems to think I'm a horrible human being? Seriously.
When I was a kid I walked places, but we lived not too far from the freeway, so ,out of concern, my mom got me some pepper spray. It ended up in my bags somehow when I went to visit my dad. My little brother got into my bag and sprayed himself in the face. I was a gibbering wreck. I was convinced I had blinded my little brother for life, and ended up sobbing in a corner while my parents ran around frantically. My dad found me and angrily asked me to do something. I managed to sob out that it was in my bag, trying to say it was my fault. He interrupted me to tell me to stop being so selfish, this was not the time to get upset about my brother getting into my things. Because I'm a horrible person, right? My brother (who couldn't have been more than 3 at the time) had just sprayed himself in the eyes with a noxious substance and the only reason that I, his big sister, could possibly have been crying was because I'm a bitch and he got into my stuff.
Nothing has changed since then. I ask my father a question about anything "alternative" and he lashes out at me. I try to ask him about how the Word might view intersexuality, and he lashes out at me. There's no way I'm TRANsexual (not the question I asked), because I was a girly girl growing up! For anything I asked, he assumed the worst. I never asked him about anything that concerned me personally (like homosexuality) because I already knew his opinion. I would straight up tell him why I was asking the question "I just met a transgender person, what does the Bible say about it?" "I was watching tv when I saw something about intersexuality. Would the Biblical perspective be different for that?" and so on. Always, always, he would lash out at me for thinking I might be...what I had no thought of being.
My dad's really tall, and he recently built himself a fancy chair. It's ergonomic or something, and kind of funny looking. He said it was strong enough to withstand earthquakes, so I asked if it would survive the ceiling falling on it. Har Har Hardy har har. He said he'd hide under it if there was an earthquake. I immediately asked if it was big enough. Because he's over SIX FEET TALL, and it is both a valid and funny question. Apparently he's all butthurt, because the only conceivable thing I could have been referring to is his weight. SIGH. At this point my BMI is probably higher than his, I have no room to point fingers. The only time I've made comments about his weight is when I've asked him if he LOST any. The only things I tease him about are his baldness and his nose (which I inherited!). I used to tease him about his lips, until I figured out that it legitimately bothered him. So I STOPPED. Because I don't want to hurt my dad.
It seems such a silly thing for me to get all fed up with and upset over, but you know...I'm just really tired of being treated like a bad person, with no valid reasons behind it. Oh, wait, when I was six I said something mean and made my stepmom cry. I don't even remember what it was, or the incident itself. I've just been told about it. Because a six year old having to deal with the fact that her world has shattered and remade itself into foreign images would only say something mean because she's a horrible person. Good fucking grief. I'm so close to outing myself so we can just get it over with and he can be satisfied in knowing that (in his oh-so-humble opinion) I'm headed straight to Hell. I won't do it, because it's stupid to do it over something so tiny...no, I'll wait for something big to blow a gasket over. ;) Also because I don't know how much of what I'm feeling is legit, and how much of it is crazysauce trying to fuck me over.