Geez hon, sorry to hear it. I loved my dad very much (may he rest in peace), but we never did the couch-hugging thing either. In fact I think I was 18 by time he hugged me. Just wasn't very affectionate, but I knew he loved me.

This post made my heart break in half and then most of these comments did the same thing all over again. I'm proud of you, Meranda...for being able to conquer these things. And that you're able to stop the cycle...but it doesn't seem like much of a pay off for years of abuse.

My mother was the hitter, my father was the soft one. I know how it feels as a child to feel that a parent hates you. I felt my mother hated me and I HATED her. I love her so much now and we are close, but it took several years and I had to tell her how she made me feel as a child and she told me how she felt and it was good. She to was raised in an abusive home as a child.

My dad was a really good dad when I was small. I loved him so much. He only spanked me once, for swinging on the shower curtain rod. I finally (at 5) bent it in the middle. He caught me and I got a little spanking from him. He barely touched me, but he hurt my pride. I loved that dad. When he got older, and my wonderful mom passed away, I found out that my dad was not all he had seemed. He married a woman 28 years younger than him and proceeded to cut all three of his kids off, one by one. Even at 40, it still hurt -- the rejection. I'm so sorry you had to go through all that.

I said 'ouch' out loud when I read of your father banging your heads together! How horrible! As for your father saying such hateful things to you, how can anyone possibly get over that?! Thankfully you stopped the cycle and didn't raise your children with violence too.I once asked my dad, "I know you love me... but do you like me?" He refused to answer. He was abused as a child too, and I'll never forget how he always made me choose which belt I would be smacked with, and how he once forced me to put dog crap in my mouth for talking back. (Of course, I've never told that story to anyone. It's far too humiliating even now as an adult.)

My dad died when I was six from a hunting accident on Thanksgiving. I feel as if I lost more than I will ever know, if that makes any sense.
Strange that a lot of us were raised with iron fists because it was okay back then. As for it being depressing, it's your blog. :-) It evidently needed to come out today, eh? *hugs*

Fathers are an important part of a child's life--good or bad. I was blessed with a wonderful father who was a nurturer and provider. I can only imagine what it must have been like, but your father will have to deal with his guilt and his pain from being abused and as an abuser.