My relationship with my family as a whole was lackluster as a Christian. At this point, with my parents, it's basically the same as prior to my deconversion: one of them I am ambivalent toward (in a wary but fond way), and the other could die and I would only mourn the sadness of their spouse.

My home life was less than ideal: I once had one of my parents tell me (around the age of 8 or 10) that if I ever told anyone what they did to me (which they emphasized God wanted them to do to me) that the police would take them away and I would never see them again. This suggests to me it wasn't always that they wanted what was best for me as much as preferable for them.

The physical abuse stopped in 7th grade, when I finally was big enough to fight back to extent. I did so once, and had my head beaten against a wall as immediate retribution, with each slam emphasizing word/compound part they spoke: "You. Will. Never. Do. That. Again. Do. You. Under. Stand. Me." I swore to myself there (remember, as a 13yo) if they ever did anything like that to one of my siblings, I would kill my parents. Thankfully, as far as I know, that was the final blatant physical abuse any of us received.

There is still a lot of hate tied to those events, though in terms of putting up a front for relationship, most of the time I don't actively feel anything beyond indifference toward that parent. I would be perfectly fine burning bridges, but I know them to be a stalker (I have a sibling who cut ties and has been stalked by this parent). Perhaps I just naturally adhere to "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

I dread the day when I'm out of the closet with my parents, however. My parents know where I live, and given what happened with my sibling, I would likely be serving papers.