forgive

I don’t think about my parents much anymore, which is a sure sign of progress. It used to be that I would wish hate-filled things upon them, but for a long time now my wish is for them to be happy.
I accept my past. I accept that I was miserable as a child, and wanted to die for so many years because I thought life wasn’t worth living. There is no point wishing it was any different. It is what it is.
The important thing, I have come to realize, is that I’m still here and I’m content. It’s a little scary that I was so negative for so long, but being a child means you’re very sensitive and pick up on all the vibes in your home. It could’ve been so much worse. Girl babies in India and China drowned for the crime of being female, for example.
My biological parents didn’t know much about parenting skills. At least they provided for us and gave us an education. It would have been nice if they liked me, but I don’t think they ever really have.
Do you know the feeling of trying to please someone, sacrificing your own happiness to please them but getting criticism, verbal abuse, beatings etc instead? Trying to get just a smile from my mother but giving up after more than a week without any attention. She lavished all her love and attention on her son while ignoring me except when there was work to be done.
I’ve lost count of the number of times my father yelled at the top of his lungs at my siblings when they were too slow to learn something. They were young (less than 10) and would start crying – pitiful, heartbreaking, desperate crying – which only enraged him further. I could never quite figure out how he could keep abusing them while they were crying so much. It was awful.
I never cried when he did the same to me, because I was so angry with him and wished him dead every time it happened. I’d figured out, you see, what would trigger his anger and the beatings. It was when he had a bad day at work. He would take it out on his children. That was when I began hating him.
My so-called mother would stand by when this was going on and if my father kept going for too long, with my brother, she would step in and ask her husband to go easy. But with me, never. I was always her least favorite child. If my father had chosen to beat me to death, she would not step in. I don’t know if she will ever understand that with that kind of attitude, I never want to have anything to do with her ever again.
I see now that there was not much I could have done at the time, I was a small child. It’s ok. At least I don’t have to put up with them any more.
I hope they are fine. Not sure what I would say if I saw them again. Not sure if I would go to their funeral if they passed away. Maybe if there weren’t many people there I might.
Maybe this is because I have found peace with myself.
Now if only I could find work, lol.