As a parent, I know now that is true. But at 22, coming from an alcoholic home where my role in the family dynamic was “perfect child”, I had never failed before. Not in public. My father was a monster at home, but when he was at the bar he always bragged real hard on me. All I ever heard when I went to drag him home was how proud he was of me. And like any kid in that situation, I grasped at that.
At 22, I was failing. And I believed that if I failed, my father wouldn’t have anything to brag about. And then there would be nothing but hate.
I believed it so hard it almost killed me.
I know now that parents forgive.
I didn’t know that, though, until it happened.