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from 9-19 every holiday started off with my father and mother being passive-aggressive with each other. this usually continued until dad grew frustrated and began to yell or scream at me. why he targeted me I don't know. there were two other kids. probably because they were older and would throw his shit back at him.
one year in particular he screamed at me to go burn the trash (as one did in the rural days). it was fall and was very windy. I told him it would catch the yard on fire. "just do it!" fine...
I took it out and lit it. came back inside and went back to my room because I didn't want to get yelled at. keep in mind I was around 11 years old at the time. about 30 minutes later he's screaming for me. I come out and about an acre of our land is on fire. it was mostly tall (dry) grass. "what's wrong with you?! are you fucking stupid?!!" we spent the rest of the afternoon fighting the spread of the fire while he berated me. then had a disappointing dinner followed by gifts and "love" with messages like, "smile more!" and "is this not good enough for you?"
that was the day I lost all respect for my father. that was the day I stopped trusting adults.
I don't share this to gain sympathy. I fucking hate sympathy, frankly. I share this as a cautionary tale for adults today. don't mistreat your kids. when you're on your deathbed, these are the things that will haunt you, and you'll be alone to suffer without closure as your vision simply fades out to nothing.
Merry fucking Christmas.