My father was physically and emotionally abusive all throughout my childhood. I watched him put a knife to my moms throat once. Stuff like that. When I was younger, I would always forgive him, and I would always remind him that I still loved him. But being a victim of abuse and witnessing abuse...it can really fuck a person up. By the time I was about 14, I just stopped talking to him completely. The amount of anger and hatred I started to harness was unbearable. I started getting depressed, showing symptoms of PTSD. It was easy to avoid him at home, given that he's always worked night shifts, so he would always sleep throughout most of the day. All feelings of love towards my father were gone. Never even liked him as a person, so I said good riddance (as much as I could while I was still living in the same house with him). Fast forward to a year and a half ago, my mom finally found the strength to leave him. So we moved out. Eventually I was able to speak to him again, have a conversation with him at the very least. I felt like I had to get over everything that happened, just put it behind me. So it was fine for a while. I'd visit my dad sometimes - not often, but I'd see him...it was fine, whatever. Fast forward to April of this year. It's my 19th birthday. Didn't want my dad to come over because this was my day and I wanted to spend it with the people I actually cared for - call me selfish. But what happens?? Surprise, my dad shows up at our front door while we were eating dinner. My heart sank because I just did not fucking want him there, EVEN though things were ok between us. Still, an anxiety attack ensued, and I asked my mom to ask him to leave, which he did. So he comes back. Like, 30 mins later. I realize, okay, I'm being selfish, he just wants to see his daughter on her birthday. I stepped out on the front porch with him, starting to apologize, fully intending to invite him inside so I could open his card and have some cake. Whatever. Right away, he started calling my names, calling me a dumb bitch, a psycho - it was just. Bad. The same old shit I thought I wouldn't have to deal with anymore. I just decided I was done. I'm not sticking around for you if I'm going to be irrationally screamed at, on my birthday of all days, a day which I simply wanted to be GOOD (I spent my 18th birthday in rehab). So that's when I decided no more with this bullshit. It was an easy thing to do because I don't love him, don't like him as a person, he holds no sentiment in my heart as a father. Whatsoever. I wish I could have explained this all better, but, there ya go. It's easy to say goodbye to a father you never really felt like you had.