I'm sorry but am I the ''rubbish'' one in all this?

This involves my father and I would appreciate some help in regards to an incident which happened yesterday. Hate is a strong word, and as such usually involves the love-hate triangle. My feelings towards him are not of hate, but they are of repulsion. Every time I hear him parking his van outside, I inwardly grimace. All I know is that i don't love him at all. There is not one single happy memory I have of him.

My father is in short an alcoholic, control-obsessed freak. Nice and humourous in the outside world to people he does business with and a complete monster in his own home, provided its only me and my mother inside. I would like to keep this short, so I'll keep this brief for the sake of getting this over with.

This man has arguably been the ruin of my life. He used to intentionally tell me to ''forget'' my friends when I was very young, saying that none of them cared for me and that there is no such thing as a friend, and that they would take advantage of me where they could. He told me that only education would make me a real man. Today I doubt I even have a single friend.

Our family is a dysfunctional one, and there is not one day where my parents don't fight. By fighting I mean the bitter type. My father is particularly venomous in those fights and they vary accordingly to how drunk he is. They fight most of the time due to my father being the fat drunk that he is: my mother would make some sort of trivial error and he would blow it out of proportion (depending on how drunk he is). He taunts and drags it on and on. A random example is when one time she referred to him as a ''controlling partner'' and he kept repeating that (in a very high, feminine taunting voice) for a week every time she was present. There would be absolute silence from both my mother and me and he would drag it on and on, in the car, during meals etc.

One time when I was sixteen, my father caught wind of the fact that I had suicidal feelings. He was driving me off from school, and he offered to drive me to a cliff not too far off from where we were, which had a notorious history in relation to people committing suicide. My suicidal feelings had been the result of my father, although I am unsure of the particular circumstances. Suicidal feelings (which I relieve through self-harm) brought up by my father are a very common occurrence.


The issue currently on hand is this:
Something happened yesterday (I'll go into it in a sec) and I need some form of closure on this. Was I an asshole? Am I some kind of spiteful bitch?

Anyway here's what happened. My father is a control-freak as has been said. My computer is strictly (according to his believes) for academic purposes only. Anything else, such as playing a game sometime or watching a movie is some form of sacrilege. There is no such thing as privacy here. He even used to tip-toe into my room to try and catch me off guard.... my hearing is is somewhat advanced, unfortunately for him and i would always detect him easily unless there was an overlapping sound.

The other day I wasn't doing anything particular. I was typing an essay, but then I got bored and watched the finale of Breaking Bad. After that I continued and stopped again to read some article on the Daily Mail. Hearing my father's foot-steps I automatically went to another tab, musing over some unrelated concern and my father walked into the room. He muttered something (which could have been anything), but he still didn't leave and I noticed that. He then asked ''what was that pie chart''?

Inwardly I was like '''.... the fuck is this drunk going on about?'' My father had drunk half a bottle in the morning, and fell asleep (noisily) on the kitchen sofa and was out for several hours. He had just been nursing the hangover and had gone up. The exchange went for several minutes, with him demanding that I show him where I had been ''before'' because he wanted to see the ''pie chart''. I told him that the last thing I wanted to look at was a pie chart, and that I definitely hadn't even looked at any. With his volume and persistence increasing he began shouting, calling me a ''liar'', that he had ''caught me'' and that he knew exactly what a pie chart looked like. For the first time, I made explicit reference to him being drunk.

I told him ''You're drunk'', which was not entirely true. He was sober but what was the point? Sure enough he drank half the bottle he had left before he went to bed. I did not say ''you're a drunk'' but ''you're drunk''. However I also used it, for the first time as a weapon and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the fact that finally, with just two words I had discovered just how much his alcoholism tortured him.

His reaction to that simple, calm statement was to flip out, saying that he never knew ''I was such a rubbish person'' and told me that he would ''show me'' and that he wouldn't drive me to the uni on Monday since ''drunks don't drive'' (I depend on him as far as driving goes, given my eyesight and I go there during the summer to stay out of the house, there's hardly anyone in the uni during the summer except in the gym, but at least I am out of that hellhouse). He was crazed in fact, no question about it. I could her him slamming doors violently and what not, and I felt not fear, but satisfaction. He was then outside my room, and accompanied by a string of bad lingo he violently threw a book I had bought and given him the other day which I had seen in a shop the other day and purchased because i understood that he liked it. It hit the wall and fell on the floor and he stormed off vilifying me far and wide and slammed the door shut.

The funny thing is that he drove a lot when he was drunk as well, and that I had made up excuses in the past and missed several important lectures purely because he had drunk far too much on some occasions.

So anyway, am I the asshole in all this? There's a lot more to my father than just this text, but I'm not writing a thesis. I have gone through a lot in relation to my father and even my councillor had been very shocked with my situation at home when I told her the truth.

Yes, I enjoyed causing him pain. Admittedly, I said those words out of frustration, because I was fed up with his bollocky crap, with his drinking, with his irrationality and I had to muster all self-control not to tell him to go fuck himself with his whiskey bottles. However when I saw his reaction, I understood just how powerful these words were and I enjoyed knowing that I had hurt him. I smirked as I heard him raging and ranting in another room.


[By the way, his ''pie chart'' I realized shortly after, was nothing other than the Mozilla Firefox logo (my homepage) and I had absent-mindedly clicked on another document to check on. I didn't tell him that, we haven't even spoken since. And yes he's drank again today, but for the first time I have not even taken his drinking badly, I have not even self-harmed over it. I found it amusing.]

Would appreciate the thoughts of rational human beings.