When I was maybe 23 or so, in retrospect, I was in the pits of depression.
I had a car I was selling on Craigslist…a POS Volvo 740GL Wagon. I didn’t even bother cleaning it out.
I was unemployed and living with my parents, right after the 2008 crash. But the day that the guy came to pick up the car, I was out and my dad handled the financials.
A few years later, I googled one of my friends. He was a musician, and I left one of his CDs in the car.
Turns out the guy who bought it planned on restoring it and wrote a blog. But he never continued past the “I got the car” page. He dug through analyzing everything I left in the car.
Curious, I searched his screen name on the blog…and found a forum post, talking about the day they got the car.
In the forum post, he detailed how my dad went on, for several minutes, ranting about what a piece of shit I was. He couldn’t even stop him. He just kept rambling. He gave a couple examples of things he must’ve been told by my father. Things my father has absolutely no business divulging to a total stranger.
It’s nearly 20 years later. I still haven’t forgotten that. I never mentioned it to my dad, and I don’t intend to. I barely ever speak to them, and actively avoid them most the time. Honestly nothing gives me more anxiety than having to deal with my parents, except maybe dealing with my wife’s dad and stepmom (and her stepsisters…her half-brothers are cool tho, and her mom and whole-siblings are some of the best people I’ve ever met), because they are very much the same as my parents, except Trumpers.
When I was maybe 23 or so, in retrospect, I was in the pits of depression.
I had a car I was selling on Craigslist…a POS Volvo 740GL Wagon. I didn’t even bother cleaning it out.
I was unemployed and living with my parents, right after the 2008 crash. But the day that the guy came to pick up the car, I was out and my dad handled the financials.
A few years later, I googled one of my friends. He was a musician, and I left one of his CDs in the car.
Turns out the guy who bought it planned on restoring it and wrote a blog. But he never continued past the “I got the car” page. He dug through analyzing everything I left in the car.
Curious, I searched his screen name on the blog…and found a forum post, talking about the day they got the car.
In the forum post, he detailed how my dad went on, for several minutes, ranting about what a piece of shit I was. He couldn’t even stop him. He just kept rambling. He gave a couple examples of things he must’ve been told by my father. Things my father has absolutely no business divulging to a total stranger.
It’s nearly 20 years later. I still haven’t forgotten that. I never mentioned it to my dad, and I don’t intend to. I barely ever speak to them, and actively avoid them most the time. Honestly nothing gives me more anxiety than having to deal with my parents, except maybe dealing with my wife’s dad and stepmom (and her stepsisters…her half-brothers are cool tho, and her mom and whole-siblings are some of the best people I’ve ever met), because they are very much the same as my parents, except Trumpers.
Holy shit, that’s fucked up. I’m sorry that happened to you.