I don’t like swearing. Really.

Seems like a return to adolescence when you don’t know yet, how to express yourself with feeling statements.

 I mean, is ” F*ck you ” a feeling statement?

Yet, I found myself shouting those infamous words just recently.

At my father.

It wasn’t planned. And it was Christmas.

We were at the dinner table with the focus on , naturally, my father.
He has dipped into the realm of narcissism often enough that I would call him one, but not clinically.
He was leading the conversation, as we took our resigned positions of listening to his diatribe.
It’s not that it wasn’t interesting, it was just that it was all about him and we were his faithful family audience.

My daughter happened to be at this particular family gathering, which was rare,
as I have never required her to attend since adulthood.

She sat there listening intently to my father’s wisdom , as much of this was new to her.
As she sat there nodding to what he was saying, my father made a fatal mistake.
Perhaps noticing my somewhat lackadaisical listening,
he chose to throw in a passive-aggressive statement about me, one he has made before.

My daughter’s head stopped nodding and turned to me with a “what did he just say?” look.
She new fully well, what he just said was as false as the day was long.

I don’t know what happened quite next. Maybe it was my daughter’s look.
Maybe I had heard this too many times before and ignored it.
But this time, a fire shot through me and someone I didn’t quite know, stood up and said,
” F*ck you ” !

He demanded, “Pardon me, pardon me.”

” F*ck you “, I said again . ” You know nothing about me . Because if you did, you wouldn’t have said something so stupid.”

Understand, I wasn’t weepy or righteously angry. I was strong and clear, even apologizing to the others for my outburst.

It just felt that with his comment, he was trying to send this old energy at me. Someone he could put down to feel better about himself. Someone I’ve always allowed him to project onto me.

And my new energy simply said ” No. ” ” You cannot project your crap on me anymore. “

I said a few more words how he doesn’t really see anyone at the table ( my mother and brother both nodding in agreement ) and something about his narcissism.
But the main feeling I had, as I was gathering my things to leave and waiting for my daughter to do likewise,
was that a sword had just fallen. I was ending something that had gone on a lifetime.

As we drove way, I felt the “little girl” in me crying, as her father had always been her hero.
But the “adult me”  knew better and was actually taking care of that little girl in a way I never had before.
My father and I had argued many times before. But this time, it was done.
No more arguments would be necessary.
The gauntlet had been thrown down and I was finished playing my “family role ”.

I don’t really recommend it, but sometimes ” F*ck you “
is the exact term to use when setting
the most definite and lasting of boundaries.

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