the way things were

There are various types of "miserable." There's the truly destitute; no food, no home. There are those who have no hope. There are also those like myself. I had been away from home sweet home for so long, I had almost forgotten the feeling of the way things were before I became engulfed with the Bar. Now that I'm back to both reality and the craziness that I call home, I've been slapped in the face with a hearty helping of family shit.

My dad called me a fat can today. He literally meant "can." He said I'm as fat on the top as I am on the bottom, like a canned food. He also said he says things like that for my own good, because no one else in the world would be as honest as he is.

My dad also verbally and physically assaulted my uncle at a Costco a couple of weeks ago...in the middle of the meat and bread section, in plain view of the whole world. Nevermind what an embarassment I am to the family, because I didn't attend a top rated law school. My dad puts his devine self out there for the whole world to see what a fine individual he has become.

I went out to lunch with my cousins today. He asked why the hell I was going out with that bastard's kids. Those kids are, of course, his neices who have nothing to do with my dad's made-up quarrel.

I finally realized that my dad needs to be the center of attention. Even when I got engaged, he made me cry for days because he said Danny never got his permission. [See March 2007] He made my engagement, which is supposed to be one of the most happiest moments of my life, a living hell. He's now doing it again.

My family has been in World War III for the past two years. It all began with my depressed, angry aunt. She got mad at my uncle for stupid reasons that do not even deserve to be mentioned. My dad and I then fought in September of last year because I told him perhaps he should try to be the bigger person and not take sides. He kicked me out of the house. When my brother mentioned the same thing two weeks later, he quietly listened. Over time, my aunt's problems with my uncle all of a sudden became my dad's problem with the whole damn family. He claims he's the victim of "betrayal." He has shunned my grandparents, my uncle and his entire family...for no reason. On my grandma's Birthday, he made a scene at the restaurant. Again - center of attention.

I think there are good people and bad people, and then there are those gray people in between. Within the gray area, there are those that are not good people, and those that are not bad people. The hardest part of growing up has been realizing that my dad, the person who should be my hero, is actually not a good person.

I feel like I've given my dad a billion chances. Each time, he does something even crazier than the time before. I'm embarrassed and ashamed to say he's my dad. I'm sad for my mom, but also angry that she has never been strong enough to stand up for herself against him.

It's almost 3am. I think I'll try sleeping again. I was having such a hard time falling asleep tonight...I ended up crying at the thought of my disfunctional family. I keep worrying about the mess my dad will make at my wedding. He'll somehow manage to victimize himself, as he's been doing all his life.

The way things were are the way things are now. Perhaps it was a mistake coming back home to LA.