I am awake much later than I want to be. My brain has gone in so many crazy directions and run around and my feelings have been hurt and my heart has felt pained. I’ve cried a lot. I’ve felt like the worst person in the world. I’ve been angry and ready to scream. I’ve felt manipulated.
And that was the past 72 hours or so.
On Friday morning, I decided to start my four day weekend by telling my dad that I found an apartment and I would be leaving him alone.
He didn’t take it well. He didn’t want to listen. He made wild accusations. He said horribly, hurtful things. He wanted to cut me out of his life.
My brother forced the issue later in the day.
And my dad didn’t take it well. He didn’t want to listen. He made wild accusations. He said horribly, hurtful things. He wanted to cut me out of his life.
And the following day he muttered. He made snide comments under his breath. He sighed. A lot. He sat quietly in a room staring at the wall. He murmured about dying alone. He refused to initiate a conversation with me.
And this morning he only spoke when spoken to.
And I weakened. I cleaned and thought, maybe this wasn’t worth it. Would I really be free? I mean, even if I moved to a small apartment ten minutes away, I’d still be here. I’d still have to do everything I do now. So was it worth it? What if something happened to him after I moved out? And maybe I should just buy something? And then I looked at all my lists (good god, the lists I write). And that pain in the center of my chest, well hell it just got worse. Encouraging texts were sent. I had to remember my goal of living for me for once. Not putting everyone ahead of me first. But putting me first.
And then he sat me down. He said he understood that I wanted to move out. He understood I needed space. He knew he would never leave this house. And I should focus on buying something. A small house. Something just for me. Something where I wanted to be. If I really wanted to be in Hartford, then I should go there. (Just make sure it was safe… he is a dad after all.) But don’t rent. He recited his reasons. He told me he would support. He would come visit me. He would help me however he could. And he told me why not to rent. (And in my head I recited list #5 which mirrored his reasons.) He wanted me to have an investment. Something to hold on to. And if I was afraid of not being able to make it, I needed to just take a chance. He said just do it. And do it quick.
And I sat dumbfounded. Wondering who the hell this man sitting here in my father’s Italian National Team track pants was. “Take a chance.” “I know you want to move out on your own.” Seriously, who the hell was this guy? Two days earlier I heard about how I was forsaking him. How I was just ready to abandon him and leave him alone. Two days earlier he sat there screaming “WHAT HAPPENS WHEN SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?”
Now he wanted me to take a chance. And accepted my need for space.
And me, what do I do? What does this pathetic and desperately in need of dad’s approval girl say? “Will you be okay?”
And he laughs. “Of course.”
Our conversation pretty much ended there. He repeated a few more times that if I chose to make the unwise choice of renting he would not support me and he would not approve and would never bother to visit me. But if I bought something, he would do all those things. He’d even be okay with a condo.
He’s a master of manipulation that man. I hate it. I’m being played. And it pisses me off. Make me so angry. And the hot-headed nature of my personality wants to just say “screw you and your fucking mind games.”
But see, this is where the overbearing over thinking nature of my personality factors in. I sat dumbfounded. I could get what I want – freedom, for lack of a better word – and not deal with the gut wrenching heartache of this weekend. The cliche of losing the battle, but winning the war sort of rings true. It’s not like I haven’t been weighing this question of rent v. buy the past few months.
I just hate the manipulation.
And what about all those signs last week? Wasn’t the universe telling me to rent that place? The house was red! My mom’s favorite color.
Maybe it was my mom’s nudge forcing me to find the courage to talk to my dad. Maybe she sent my dad a sign. Maybe it’s nothing.
Whatever it is, I think I’ve made my decision. I don’t like feeling like I’m caving. But if I ultimately get what I need and am true to what I need – what does it matter?
I spent the better part of the night looking at townhouses. I sent a note to my old realtor and told him what was up. I have a list of five places I want to see. And a deadline. April 1. It postpones my move by one month. I don’t know what happens if I don’t meet it. But I don’t want to have another option. April 1. By then, I’ll be out.