robnplunder
Thinks s/he gets paid by the post
For this story, I will write in the 1st person. You may assume it is my story or someone I know closely. To protect the identity of innocents, I will modify a few minor details. If you have patience to read this until the end, I hope you get something out of the story. I surely did.
My father turned 78 years old two days ago. He was a nasty man for most of his life, a person with severe case of narcissistic personality disorder who (ab)used others to get what he wants. He drank every other day on average, and when he got drunk, he took out his anger and frustration to his family members and relatives. Next to my mom, I took the blunt of his anger the most until I left for college.
To illustrate the above point without writing a book about it, I will give one example. I worked since I was 14 years old until I went to college. He took all my earning, without so much giving me a dime of it. Culturally (we immigrated into the US from then a 3rd world country), that wasn't so unusual and I didn't mind. What I minded was the mental & physical abuses and I was determined to get away from by enrolling in a college far away from home. I figured out how to get As from inner city public school system. Luck has it that I was accepted by the only college I applied for - UC Berkeley. If I wasn't accepted, I was going to join the army. Anyhow ...
The day that I told him I was accepted by a college away from home, I was expecting an adverse reaction from him. My going away represented a stoppage of a small source of his income. He isn't going to easily accept that. Sure enough, that night, he got drunk, beat me, and kicked me out of the house in middle of the night. I slept in a family car, and went to school the next day. Afterward, I worked & crawled back home. I had no place to go and needed to stay home until I start my life in college. I.e, I needed to take his abuse for a few more month. Not so easy. 2nd night, he got drunk, beat me, and kicked me out of the house. I hoped that'd be the end of his anger about my going to college. I was wrong. I was kicked out again on the 3rd night. Things were getting really bleak for me, and I was thinking to do really bad things. Then on the 4th night, my mom asked my uncles for help. She told them that her husband is killing (not literally, an common expression to emphasize the situation) his son. When I crawled back home that night, my uncles had convinced him to lay off of me. They plead to his ego (his being narcissistic) by telling him what a fine school I am going. He can boast about his son's academic success to others. This appeased him and I was able to sleep that night at home. But until I left for school for good, I'd be kicked out of the house a few more times.
I thought that would have been the end of a chapter in my life. But, no. Without my being at home, he increased his abuse to my mom and siblings. By trial and error, I found that by sending him what little money I can while putting myself through college, I can appease him enough to reduce his angry outbursts against the remaining family members. That's how 40 years of sending him money started.
How did it go on that long? My younger siblings stayed at home for years after I went to college. My mom stayed with him even longer (she eventually divorced him 15 years ago). To ensure that my dad's abuse was somewhat controlled, I kept sending him money. It was a form of extortion now that I think of it.
Even after my mom left him, I kept sending him money. By then, I think it became a habit. Besides, I was climbing up a corporate ladder and had money to spare. The man had no saving, and was living on minimum SS amount. He could not make his ends meet if I didn't help. He also could not hurt me anymore, and was losing his nasty disposition slowly but surely.
Fast forward the story to two days ago. I drove 400 miles to organize a birthday celebration luncheon for him. Not all relatives, family members showed up - some still hold their grudge. As I was dropping him off to his apartment, he invites me in. He said he has something to give it to me.
In his apartment, he apologizes how he didn't even give me a college graduation gift. He then lays out two sealed envelops in front of me. The envelops look oft used with creases, pencil marks. He says it is $6000 and he'd like to give it to me. What? Why? To make a long story short, it was an apology and his way of thanking me for standing by him for all these years. After a few protests, I accept it, and left his apartment bewildered.
As I was driving back to my home, I had a lot of time to think about what just happened. Then, it hit me what he really did. To me, $6000 is nothing. Heck, my investment asset increases and decreased by more than that every day. But to my dad, it is EVERYTHING (I'd guess) he had. For someone whom money was more important than his kid going to a college, this gesture must have been a life changing event. For an instant, I worried about his mental health. Perhaps, he is giving everything away b/c he wants to kill himself. But that wasn't the case based on my two subsequent phone calls with him.
For now, the two envelopes are tucked away under my mattress (so to speak). I am not going to touch it. It is worth far more to me than its content. If my dad needs any of it back, I will gladly give it back. If not, I will use it to take care of his funeral.
If you read this post until now, I hope this story amused you, or even inspired you. As for me, I feel blessed. It is going to change me for better.
My father turned 78 years old two days ago. He was a nasty man for most of his life, a person with severe case of narcissistic personality disorder who (ab)used others to get what he wants. He drank every other day on average, and when he got drunk, he took out his anger and frustration to his family members and relatives. Next to my mom, I took the blunt of his anger the most until I left for college.
To illustrate the above point without writing a book about it, I will give one example. I worked since I was 14 years old until I went to college. He took all my earning, without so much giving me a dime of it. Culturally (we immigrated into the US from then a 3rd world country), that wasn't so unusual and I didn't mind. What I minded was the mental & physical abuses and I was determined to get away from by enrolling in a college far away from home. I figured out how to get As from inner city public school system. Luck has it that I was accepted by the only college I applied for - UC Berkeley. If I wasn't accepted, I was going to join the army. Anyhow ...
The day that I told him I was accepted by a college away from home, I was expecting an adverse reaction from him. My going away represented a stoppage of a small source of his income. He isn't going to easily accept that. Sure enough, that night, he got drunk, beat me, and kicked me out of the house in middle of the night. I slept in a family car, and went to school the next day. Afterward, I worked & crawled back home. I had no place to go and needed to stay home until I start my life in college. I.e, I needed to take his abuse for a few more month. Not so easy. 2nd night, he got drunk, beat me, and kicked me out of the house. I hoped that'd be the end of his anger about my going to college. I was wrong. I was kicked out again on the 3rd night. Things were getting really bleak for me, and I was thinking to do really bad things. Then on the 4th night, my mom asked my uncles for help. She told them that her husband is killing (not literally, an common expression to emphasize the situation) his son. When I crawled back home that night, my uncles had convinced him to lay off of me. They plead to his ego (his being narcissistic) by telling him what a fine school I am going. He can boast about his son's academic success to others. This appeased him and I was able to sleep that night at home. But until I left for school for good, I'd be kicked out of the house a few more times.
I thought that would have been the end of a chapter in my life. But, no. Without my being at home, he increased his abuse to my mom and siblings. By trial and error, I found that by sending him what little money I can while putting myself through college, I can appease him enough to reduce his angry outbursts against the remaining family members. That's how 40 years of sending him money started.
How did it go on that long? My younger siblings stayed at home for years after I went to college. My mom stayed with him even longer (she eventually divorced him 15 years ago). To ensure that my dad's abuse was somewhat controlled, I kept sending him money. It was a form of extortion now that I think of it.
Even after my mom left him, I kept sending him money. By then, I think it became a habit. Besides, I was climbing up a corporate ladder and had money to spare. The man had no saving, and was living on minimum SS amount. He could not make his ends meet if I didn't help. He also could not hurt me anymore, and was losing his nasty disposition slowly but surely.
Fast forward the story to two days ago. I drove 400 miles to organize a birthday celebration luncheon for him. Not all relatives, family members showed up - some still hold their grudge. As I was dropping him off to his apartment, he invites me in. He said he has something to give it to me.
In his apartment, he apologizes how he didn't even give me a college graduation gift. He then lays out two sealed envelops in front of me. The envelops look oft used with creases, pencil marks. He says it is $6000 and he'd like to give it to me. What? Why? To make a long story short, it was an apology and his way of thanking me for standing by him for all these years. After a few protests, I accept it, and left his apartment bewildered.
As I was driving back to my home, I had a lot of time to think about what just happened. Then, it hit me what he really did. To me, $6000 is nothing. Heck, my investment asset increases and decreased by more than that every day. But to my dad, it is EVERYTHING (I'd guess) he had. For someone whom money was more important than his kid going to a college, this gesture must have been a life changing event. For an instant, I worried about his mental health. Perhaps, he is giving everything away b/c he wants to kill himself. But that wasn't the case based on my two subsequent phone calls with him.
For now, the two envelopes are tucked away under my mattress (so to speak). I am not going to touch it. It is worth far more to me than its content. If my dad needs any of it back, I will gladly give it back. If not, I will use it to take care of his funeral.
If you read this post until now, I hope this story amused you, or even inspired you. As for me, I feel blessed. It is going to change me for better.
