Tonight I hit my father.

He was drunk, and he had been drunk all day, and I had just about enough of it. He started asking where the remote was, and considering I was so angry, I just said “Shut the f*** up.”. And I said it to his face again, prompting him to get up and engage me. Upon standing up, he pushed me, and instinctively I fought back like he didn’t think I would do. Ultimately, I got him off of me, and my mom called the police and at least got him to go away for tonight. Apparently I gave him a black eye.

This is pretty much the climax to 3 long years of this s***. My dad never used to be a drunk. He’s not even an alcoholic. He just uses alcohol as a weapon for his manipulation so that we ultimately feel pity for him, which we do /not/. He had a rough childhood. An abusive one, at that. But that is no excuse for him exhibiting this behavior. He consciously chose this, and now he has to suffer the consequences. I refuse to be an enabler.

I don’t know how I should feel about this. He’s my father, I love him. But I do not feel sorry for him, nor do I pity him. And it seems like that’s what he thinks the definition of “love” is. Should I feel good about hitting him? Did I do the right thing?

Ugh, I don’t know. I just wish my family wasn’t like this.