I feel like I'm losing myself

I keep getting yelled at by my dad without knowing why because he refuses to tell me. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, and I'm trying to fix it the best I can by being a better child for him, but I can't seem to do anything right. I'm used to changing myself for other people to like me, but I'm finally finding myself rather than being a people pleaser -- yet I catch myself acting differently when he's with me.

He was an abused child, and at the time you couldn't do much if your parents beat or neglected you so the law wouldn't have been much help. I know and understand why he is the way he is, but I hate using that as an excuse for him to be so cruel towards me and my family. He says he's the best father in the world for not being like his father, and sure he doesn't beat us, just verbally insults and curses at us. I can't remember anytime where he said anything nice to me. Only whenever I dress up nicely does he complement me, but he calls me "sexy" which feels gross coming from my father.

I don't hate him, but I don't love him either. If this is what his supposed "love" feels like, being pricked and stabbed with thorns and a rope around my neck, I don't know how much more I can take before I burst. There's no use talking to him either, he refuses to take accountability and acts like the victim whenever any of us try to explain to him that his words hurt more than any wound. He says he's better because he's older, so why can't HE put the effort to try and help me fix the mess I supposably made, or just TELL ME? I'm so tired of crying, I'm so tired of having to tell myself that it's fine when its not, and I hate telling myself that this is normal. I don't want this to BE normal. I don't want to have to walk on glass so I don't upset him, but apparently treating him gently pisses him off too. I'm seriously losing myself living with him, I feel his hands wrapping around my throat and choking me.

In which, now that I remember it as I wrote that last sentence down, he did choke me once. He choked at least all of my siblings once because he was angry at us or something. I got choked out because I merely asked him about what pair of socks were his and my brother's because they were the same brand. It was Christmas, I remember the lights we had strung out in the hallway. He grabbed my neck, choking me as he pinned me down onto his bed. I scratched at his wrist, and I guess that snapped him out of it, because he threw me out of his room afterwards. I was 9, I think. That was the first time I ever yelled at him, yelling at him for getting mad over socks of all things, and hurting me. I find it weird that the next day, my mom PRAISED me for it. For yelling back...

Fuck, I need a therapist. That wasn't normal, it wasn't normal at all. I think i'mg oing to hurl

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anonymous Home June 20, 2026 at 1:54 pm 1 0