I am sorry, I am unable to say this to your face. I do not know what would happen to either of us if I did. I am not writing this to hurt you, even though anybody else would. It is just that, I am worried about our family. I am worried about our future. And moreover, I am worried about you.
You haven’t had an easy adult life. The loss of your family was too much for you.It made you from a teen, to an adult overnight. Honestly, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Especially not you. But their death, ruined you. You became a person nobody can recognize.I’m so sorry that I am going to say these next few things. But they need to be said. And I don’t know another way. Your tragedy ruined you, but Dad, it ruined us too. From as long as I remember, all I have learnt, is to feel grief. I do not remember a day when I didn’t feel it. You have always provided me with money and all the things I ever needed, but forgive me if I am asking for too much, you never gave me much of happiness. You have screamed at me, and told me I am not capable of anything. You told me that I cause every single problem in our house. You told me that I wouldn’t amount to anything, if I kept up my ‘bad behavior.’ What was my bad behavior? That I wanted to laugh, have fun,do something that made me happy? If so, I’m sorry. I will not repeat it. You never let me have a voice. You told me to reduce it, till it was reduced to absolute nothing. Literally, and figuratively.
But, I understood. I always understood the mental trauma, you must be going through. And I accepted you.As a child, I hated you. But now, I understand what makes you behave this way.But,I need to do this. To help me, and to help you.
Dad, you are unwell. Your trauma has you under its control. I refuse to believe that, this person, is you. You need help. And I’m not saying any of this, to belittle you, or make you feel that I do not respect you, I just want you to get better. But how can I tell you that? It is so bad, that if I do tell you, you will deny every one of it’s claims, and you will thrash at me instead.
So, I have no choice to write this and send it into the oblivion, that is the internet, and hope that you see it. Because, honestly, I need you to get better. I am tired. And I cannot go through this for much longer.
I hope, you come across this, but do not realize I have written it. I hope it does not boil your blood. And mostly,
I hope you decide to take help.
– Your Loving Daughter.