It’s Father’s Day, and I Could Not Care Less

On a life of trauma, anger, and abuse.

I cringe on this day. Every single Father’s Day. I cringe.

Facebook is filled with memes and posts from friends around the world wishing dads, dead and alive, a Happy Father’s Day.

It gives me the ick.

I generally try to stay off Facebook on this day.

I hated my father every day of my life and couldn’t wait for him to die. I know that sounds horrible.

A life of hate, anger, and abuse

I have no clear memories of my life before the age of 10. Weird, but true. In my 10th year, I received my first beating, and that one came from my mother.

After that, it was like the floodgates of abuse just opened wide, and it was a free-for-all for my parents.

I often wondered if they had discussions while we were sleeping about who was going to dole out the next beating. They took turns, but it was mostly Dad.

He was angry all the time.

I have no recollection at all, ever, of any love coming from him. Not one ounce.

I was terrified of him throughout my teenage years. I lived in fear every day, not knowing when he would…