The Estranged

I have messed up parents. I don't mean to imply that my parents are alcoholics or any of that type of stuff. They are simply messed up people. Left to themselves, they turned on one another and now are in the process of getting a divorce after 37 years of marriage.

My mother is a nurse and is eerily similar to famous nurses like Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest or Annie Wilkes in Misery. I can't watch either of those movies without thinking of my mother. She is a crazy person, and she will destroy your life if you trifle with her.

My father is a bigoted asshole suffering from MS. He has a penchant for cutting remarks and crushing your spirit. He is a dark cloud of negativity who takes his sole delight in the misfortunes of others and their flaws in character. MS has only worsened him, and he is insufferable. The irony of my dad is that people find him to be incredibly funny. My dad is not a comedian, but as Aristotle pointed out, comedy is where people are portrayed as worse than what they actually are. Since this is what my dad does, you will laugh at what he says. Then, you will overhear what he says about you or others will tell you. Then, you will hate the fucker.

I can tell you that I don't give a fuck what other people think about me. But I do care what my father thinks about me. He thinks I am a loser and a piece of shit and a worthless son of a bitch. These are the things he says about me when I am not around. So, I find it difficult to be around him knowing he says these things about me behind my back.

Both my parents have a tendency to reclusiveness. This only increases their insularity. They are people who do not like other people.

I often wonder if I do not suffer from the same pathologies. But I do like people. I can be critical, but I try to be balanced in that criticism. People are not all good or all bad. And I enjoy people. I am fascinated by them and their stories. I love to spend time in cafes or what have you and talk with people about their ideas, their dreams, their work, and their lives.

I get from my dad a gift I call the razor tongue. It is a gift or curse depending upon how it is used. When someone deserves it, I can crush their soul. When someone does not deserve it, I feel very badly. I have made many women and a couple of men cry just by the things I have said.

I haven't spoken to my mother in three years. I spoke to my father this past week, and I can tell he does not think much of my militant atheism. Fuck him. He spends his days pissing and shitting his pants, so I don't give a fuck. I don't care to ever see him again.

It is sad to be this way with the people that raised you. But those two people have caused me more misery than any other people in my life, and I have given them a lot. I want to be happy. And if I am ever in need, I would prefer suicide to asking them for anything.

I only reconciled with my father because of Greta. I still can't believe I was as involved with someone as foolish as her. This is the same woman who likes the fact that she lives two states away from her mother as a "buffer zone." Christ, I can't believe I listened to that stupid bitch.

People may call me heartless on this, but they have no appreciation for how spirit killing my dad can be. For the three years I was estranged from him, I have been very happy. Since reconciling with him, I feel myself sliding back into the old misery and hatefulness. I don't want this. The blame lies with him.

My family may not be happy with me on this, but I can't go back to that dark period I lived under. Life is too short to have it filled with toxic people. If people make you better, keep them around. If they make you worse, get rid of them. My parents made me worse.

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