Journalled on Tuesday, 16th of May 2023 | Flamengo, Rio de Janeiro: 27 degrees, warmish, sunny, and beautiful, clear blue skies.
Tuesday, and my name is Dirt at home. Since I decided to try to force my younger daughter to change her habits and routine, which will consequently change her future, she is clearly showing her disapproval by trying to make my life hell at home.
She deliberately shows she doesn’t want to talk to me, giving me the cold shoulder. I am now Persona Nao Grata at home. Jack the Stripper would be more popular than me now, but I do not care.
What I do care about is that she is my daughter, and, for sure, I want a pleasant, meaningful interaction between us. Most of the time, we have one.
However, I have noticed that beneath her polished, lacquered, pleasant personality, everything is fine when things go her way and she agrees.
But things change very quickly whenever something is not to her liking, usually at a neck-breaking speed and sometimes with violent or cruel revenge.
I want to put it down to her being an adolescent, but my gut feeling tells me it is more than that. I clearly remember, as if it were yesterday, when Yasmin was more or less three or four years old.
There was a children’s birthday party in the playground of an upper-middle-class condominium in Flamengo. Everything was fine until it was time to leave.
People were already leaving, and Nalva and I thought it was time to go, too. When we had collected all our belongings, cake, souvenirs, etc., and were ready to leave,
Yasmin did not want to go!
After a couple of minutes of trying to explain that we had to go, I picked her up in my arms, and we walked to the lift to go down to the building’s reception area.
She suddenly began to have a tantrum while I was holding her in my arms, shouting and screaming, not wanting to leave the party. What was worse for me was that she began hitting and scratching me with all her strength, and what really upset me was that she wanted to hurt me, to scratch my face in anger and revenge; I could feel her anger.
Physically, it was not so bad, but what hurt and caught my attention was that I could feel all her rage against me; she was determined to hurt me because she had not done what she wanted.
I do not know if it was also because of the terrible twos, the stage of a child’s life between two and four, when the child is difficult, but today I see the same contempt as at the party. I have also seen it on a few other occasions for similar reasons, but not to the same intensity as before.
Despite my financial limitations, I am like any other parent trying to educate a daughter. Life is challenging. She must be ready for what life throws at her without the added complications of being a spoilt brat, a frustrated person, only thinking about herself and believing that life owes her nothing.
I still believe I have done the right thing; at least, I hope so with no false pretension that I am an excellent father and that my word as a father is incontestable.
Although I do feel drained on occasion, poorly valued, not valued for what I have done all these years, without denying anything or ever lacking support for her and her mother, it is hard work and difficult to swallow.
In the past, I lived in a shed or garage so my daughter could live in comfortable, safe conditions. Although this decision no longer matters, I would do it again if needed, solely for my daughter’s sake. However, at this moment, my daughter views me as a terrible father and is treating me like a piece of shit.
Despite all of this, I am relatively happy; the classes are going well, my workstation is organised, and I am getting to do my work and earn money. I have just paid the hosting company for the sites, and my self-esteem is sky-high from my daily exercise routine.
So, the day comprised of classes, housework, and contemplation.
In bed by 9.30 p.m.
Thank you very much.
Thanks for reading my blog. Check out my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments.
Richard
