Silently Screaming

Scream–verb (used without object)

1. to utter a loud, sharp, piercing cry.

2. to emit a shrill, piercing sound: The sirens and whistles screamed.

loud.

sharp.

piercing.

The words my dad never says emit all of these reactions in my gut....deep in my gut. Like when my cousin told him I was cutting "Hey, your daughter's suicidal."..."Hmm, what should I do to help?" Obviously, he decided not saying a damn word was the best decision he could make. It wasn't the right decision, but it was most definitely the loudest decision he could have made. Loud enough to tell me he didn't give a fuck if I lived or died. Or the night, just recently, when he told me he had messed up raising me, and I should get out. That message pierced the largest hole in my heart. So, basically, if you messed up raising me, I'm messed up? Thanks Dad. You really didn't have to tell me so bluntly, because you had made that point clear so many times before. Like everytime I do something wrong (which is everytime I do anything), and you inform me on how I should have done it (because your way is always right) and everytime I don't live up to your standards and everytime you realize I'm not the son you lost. Everytime you give me your most well-rehearsed look, the look of "you're a fucking idiot, you huge disappointment", it pierces another tiny hole in me. I assume I was born with a solid heart. Thanks for ripping it to shreds at every chance you get. I should add that he decides to tell me "he messed up" because I hadn't unloaded the dishwasher. Man, I fucking suck.



What drives me crazier than my father's screams is the fact that I can't scream back. Ever. I understand he has no feelings or emotions, so nothing I could say or do would ever hurt him the way he hurts me, but I know it would make me feel better. If I could just scream back, I think it would counteract the damage he does to my heart. But I can't. I never have been able to. I freeze, shut down. Words are as far from my mind as feelings are from his heart. But why? Why can't I scream back. Maybe it's because he's screamed since I was little. Maybe it's because my earliest memory is of him and my mom screaming at each other while my brother held me. Maybe it's because he's always been a man who saw women as inferior. Maybe, this is why I let men abuse me and take advantage of me? (Hmm...food for thought. That's another blog though.) I think this is what you wanted though. You wanted to be able to hurt me so I can hurt like you. You want me to be heartless inside so I can live my life like you, alone, with no one to love me. The saddest part of this is that you could have had people love you, but you pushed them away. Just like you've pushed me away. Are you trying to push me off a cliff?



I wish I could say I was sorry for never being good enough for you. But I'm not. I'm really not. I don't think I suck near as much as you do. And believe it or not, there are people in this life that think I'm a decent human-being. I think I'm a decent human-being. I know I'm not perfect, but I'm damn sure better than you make me out to be.



Through all the hurt, though, you've taught me a huge lesson (possibly the most important). You've taught me what not to become. You've taught me how not to treat people I love. You've taught me the parent I don't want to be. So thanks.



I wish you could teach me how to scream, though. All I want to do is scream.