Feeling Disgustingly Good
Posted by Jerry on July 9, 2006
Today I exploded.
It was the first time today, since I arrived here less than 3 months ago, that I exploded on the face of my dad. And I feel good! Disgustingly good! Disgusting because I wish I were not in the situation to have to do this, but good because I know it was the right thing to do, and I did it.
My dad is the vilest creature I have come to know in my life. Our relationship is at its best, perfunctory: we play our roles as “dad” and “son” in the most superficial way possible.
All this time I’ve been here, I have been quiet, mostly ignoring him and his ugly remarks, his unwarranted outbursts at any random thing, his infuriating habit of mocking, taunting, and probing someone to the point of anger, his unquenchable need to denigrate everyone around him with the foulest language.
Well, today, he was talking to my mom over the phone; mom’s in Florida with my sister and my brother-in-law.
For some reason, I don’t know what, Dad began tearing his throat out into the phone, spitting some of the ugliest, most despicable words into the phone at her.
Today, for some reason, I could not stand it any longer. I couldn’t stand to hear those words being uttered against mom.
I went up right to his face, stuck my finger only inches away from his face, and in some words told him to shut the hell up! I yelled at him. It was for the first time today I noticed how truly I towered over him; and he cowered under my finger, fuming with anger, trying to out-yell me with his broken English. I stood straight and tall, very close to his face, and exploded on his face.
In proper, stern, and assertive words, I told him to mind the kind of language he used around me, mom, and my sister. I told that he better watch his tongue. That I will no longer tolerate any foul words hurled at mom. In no kind or soft words, I conveyed to him that his bullshit and power-tripping will not work in this house anymore; at least not with me.
Finally, after I felt I had said enough, and had decided I didn’t want to hear any of his continued blabbering, I just turned around and walked into my room and shut the door behind me. I left him alone, fuming with anger; left him feeling unfinished and incomplete, still blabbering on outside my shut door.
Now, I feel disgustingly good.