The rage of Jill Donley

If I was going to assess myself, deep down and say what my flaw or my achilles heel is that I'm to clever when it comes to hurting the people who have hurt me. I have a firm belief that fucked up middle class white parents can produce some of the most fucked up abused children, mainly because this abuse doesn't get spotted for years, if ever because most adults assume THEYRE WHITE, WITH A HUGE LAWN AND CABLE TELEVISION THE KIDS HAVE TO BE HAPPY. I'm not talking about that psycho bullying Emily Gilmore bullshit either. You can rise above your mother being a bitch trust me on this. I'm talking about real abuse. For as long as I could remember my father was an alchoholic, the therapist says its because my grandmother used to beat the shit out of dad so he drinks to avoid any sort of conflict. It wasn't so bad when I was a kid mainly because he was never home before I went to sleep and he was the drunk who would sleep on the couch he never hit me or yelled at me.
Then my brother was diagnosed with manic depression during his early teens. The thing most people assume about manic depression is that when your manic your energetic and happy. Not true. My brother became angry, violent loud and angry, he would scream like a junkie coming off ICE. He would beat me up so bad I'd have bruises all over my arms and I broke my nose,ribs and arm. But this isn't his story. This was is my story.
I was told I was the normal one, the GOOD one, for years I was a nice sweet smart girl. Then suddenly my father unable to protect me against this six foot tall monster started drinking so bad he almost died twice and destroyed his heart.
He would literally piss all over the floor and shit his pants he drank so much.
I became angry because I knew I had no right to express my pain, the anger built up to such an intense level I let it out the only way I could. With my words.
Terry Pratchett once said fairy godmothers fundmentally understand human nature which makes the good ones bad and the bad ones dangerous.
My pain warped me into a bad fairy godmother.
I'm ashamed and disgusted with what I did to my friends, family and former boyfriends.
I couldnt stand up to my brother without risking a broken bone, I couldnt leave home in case my father drunk himself to death while mum was at work, so trapped I attacked everyone.
I knew the exact things to say in order to hurt the people I loved.
I knew that calling my mother a "fat bitch" when she bought my father beer hurt her, I knew that saying spiteful cruel things about my friends when they went binge drinking hurt them and would make them leave me alone.
I had a boyfriend for two years who I dumped after finding my dad passed out on the floor drunk with vomit on his front. The boyfriend was a lovely guy and I cared about him so much. He got really busy with his exams and when he sent me an email after not talking to me for five weeks I got so angry I told him to go, I was horrible to him. Then I was so horrified and embarrassed by the way I treated to him I didnt speak to him for four years.
Am I still like this? the rage has taken awhile but it's slowly dying away like a fire in winter. My brother left several months ago. He cant touch me anymore and my father has been healthy and sober for two and a half years.
I no longer call my mother a fat bitch and I no longer bitch about my friends. The thing however is people who knew me only remember the rage. People only remember the worst things about you.