In the years of my growing up, Dad was hard on me. He made sure I made my bed and did my homework. As a school girl and young adult, I feared him and felt bitter about him. He seemed unhappy with me unless I got straight A’s and unhappy with my boyfriends if their fathers were not as "successful" as he was. Whenever I went out with him on weekends, I used to struggle to think up things to say, feeling on guard.
He would call in advance to make sure there was no alcohol at the party. I got so angry with him for laying down the law. I would scream, "I hate you!" Dad would yell back, "Good! I don’t care!" Deep down I knew he did.
One time at a party, I drank too much alcohol and got so sick. I said, "Call my dad." Next thing, Dad was carrying me to the car. I woke up the next morning, thinking I would definitely be criticized. As expected, I got a roasting, but I now understand why I need discipline.