Get Even More Visitors To Your Blog, Upgrade To A Business Listing >>

My dad kicked me out of the house

Tags: house story fight


Normally, writing a post about the story of my fight with the family requires time and effort to do so, which I lack thereof. At this point, explaining is just a form of justification to demonstrate my point. Which sadly isn't the objective of my thoughts.

Long story short; My father kicked me out of the house for the first time.
The cliffhanger, however, is that there wasn't any circumstances or trigger point to develop. It happened on a typical Wednesday night. I dressed up in CHIJ shorts, wore a black hat to cover up the bad hair day dilemma in preparation for Kokoro's night stroll in the park. When we were ready to leave, he yelled and strongly oppose this walk. I was obviously shocked, but I paid no attention. I gave him a short glance before attempting to unlock the door.

He brisked walked to the corridor and screamed again directly in my face. Stunned and puzzled, I withdrew my phone from the table and began to video record his activity. It was a shocker shall I add, because situations like this never happen often. Once in a blue moon perhaps but I don't reckon anything like this to happen any time soon.

The fight continued for half an hour, in between quarrels he had threatened to call IMH and the police several times which I exclaimed in gladness. He recalls past events where he claims that he is a good father but I begged to differ instantly. Before the fight subsided, he added that if I stepped out of the house, he will lock the doors.

That he did, I tried to lure Kokoro out of the house but he slammed the door shut right in my face before threatening once more to contact the police. I stormed off by taking the stairs and then brisk walked aimlessly in a direction. Of course, tears of anger were streaming down my cheeks, I was boiling frustrated at the fact that this isn't a norm in Hong family.

What is the 7 letter word for someone who burst into uproaring anger to threaten the safety of the neighborhood? L-U-N-A-T-I-C.

I have contemplated suicide at some point when I was left alone in the park farther away from my block. I called the SOS hotline out of curiosity, soliciting as to how their system works. We talked for half an hour before I had to hang up out of courtesy; i.e I try to avoid getting a non-related involved in personal matters.

Contemplating suicide is a suck-ish thought since it never really occurs to me that I will genuinely do it. Factually, the conception of hitting flat-face on the ground incites mental pain. So I pictured myself falling from a 15-story high building and landing within 5.3 seconds. That is according to an estimation. Two scenarios to my illusion: 1. I die instantly. 2. I managed to survive the fall, but the pain is excruciatingly unbearable that I had to endure the physical and mental suffering whilst relying on a tube that suggests "Coma". The first scenario came quick so I was pretty much done with my life, then the second thought struck me so hard that I had to rethink the consequences.

There are so many more to look forward to I reckon. And I couldn't bear to betray feeling a sense of hope for my future. Recently I did a monthly goal template which I have commenced to adapt to the schedule. The first week was quite a success, I managed to get things done without supervision. I felt so happy of the achievements that I did it again this week. Managing tasks are a hassle, especially when Lucy is quite demanding about her meal and play time. Dragged my weary feet and droopy eyes to sleep early every night but it is all worth it.

In some other way, I could discern the "exact" feeling and impact of a high jump, getting burnt alive, suffocation and drowning.

I have to leave my non-existence readers with doubts. At the end of the day, the problem lies not from discerning who's right or wrong. The matter lies in the phrase "It takes 2 hands to clap". While I have to dwell on my initial behavior, I will be working more towards sourcing for rental flats. Ultimately, it is best to leave rather than stay in a toxic environment with no standards.

Exhaustion wearies me weak to my bones.

This post first appeared on My Recovery, please read the originial post: here

Share the post

My dad kicked me out of the house


Subscribe to My Recovery

Get updates delivered right to your inbox!

Thank you for your subscription