I’m in neither camp personally. I overheard my dad joke to my mom about how the best time to stop beating your kids is when they’re old enough to fight back, and so I learned to fight against it, physically. Of course he didn’t stop at first, I was small and weak, until one day soon after I cut his eye with my fingernail. That’s when he finally decided to tone it down.
And yet when that happened, I wasn’t happy. I thought I was a monster for putting him in the hospital.
My father stopped when I barged into his bedroom, heavy wooden stool held high above my head, ready to cave his skull in. I didn’t have it in me, though, so he ended up with a swollen shin. I have never told him I was this close, and now that I’ve finally gone no contact, I doubt he’ll ever know.
I can relate in several ways. One day I woke up to my step mom screaming and my dad screaming at her and the sound of things being thrown around. He was super drunk, and when he came out of his room, I pulled a knife on him, but he was too out of it to notice. That or he had and just never told me. Before I got it in me to move, he started crying, hugged me, and kept repeating “I’ll get better” over and over again. After that day he started going to regular therapy. Religious therapy, not real therapy, but it never happened again, so I guess it worked either way. Nonetheless I can’t bring myself to ever step foot in his house again. I’ve talked to him over messaging before during some emergency situations where I had nobody else I could call. He seems like he’s really improved. But tbh, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully trust that he’s genuinely changed. Because of him my stomach still drops whenever I hear sudden loud noises, even if it’s just somebody dropping a screwdriver or something.
I’m in neither camp personally. I overheard my dad joke to my mom about how the best time to stop beating your kids is when they’re old enough to fight back, and so I learned to fight against it, physically. Of course he didn’t stop at first, I was small and weak, until one day soon after I cut his eye with my fingernail. That’s when he finally decided to tone it down.
And yet when that happened, I wasn’t happy. I thought I was a monster for putting him in the hospital.
My father stopped when I barged into his bedroom, heavy wooden stool held high above my head, ready to cave his skull in. I didn’t have it in me, though, so he ended up with a swollen shin. I have never told him I was this close, and now that I’ve finally gone no contact, I doubt he’ll ever know.
I can relate in several ways. One day I woke up to my step mom screaming and my dad screaming at her and the sound of things being thrown around. He was super drunk, and when he came out of his room, I pulled a knife on him, but he was too out of it to notice. That or he had and just never told me. Before I got it in me to move, he started crying, hugged me, and kept repeating “I’ll get better” over and over again. After that day he started going to regular therapy. Religious therapy, not real therapy, but it never happened again, so I guess it worked either way. Nonetheless I can’t bring myself to ever step foot in his house again. I’ve talked to him over messaging before during some emergency situations where I had nobody else I could call. He seems like he’s really improved. But tbh, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully trust that he’s genuinely changed. Because of him my stomach still drops whenever I hear sudden loud noises, even if it’s just somebody dropping a screwdriver or something.