AITAH am I(21f) wrong for cutting off my dad(60m) after he refuses to deal with a bedbug infestation?

Hi Reddit! This is going to be a story that’s been on my mind for a while but I just need to make sure I’m genuinely aligned in my thinking about this whole situation. Forgive me but this story is fairly fresh and I still have no clue on my thoughts and feelings and this will be a long one LOL

TDLR: bedbugs had come into my house and my parents had ignored the issue until we had a huge fight that led me to get hospitalized. We haven’t spoken about the issue and my parents are insisting I apologize to my family for blowing things out of proportion, I believe I’m in the right of where I stand.

It started with a few bites in maybe March/mid February. I had noticed I had some weird bites, which I just equated to some weird bug biting me or maybe some mosquitoes? I’ve moved from a house to an apartment, some context needed but I’ve never dealt with anything like this…. Maybe ants or the occasional spiders but I never had anything that would genuinely bite me and stuff. I would remember laying in bed and suddenly feeling itchy, seeing the concrete signs or linear bites and I kept feeling confused on what was going. Me and my family were very close, any weird issue or any huge pimple on my butt, I go to my mom to, because she usually provides me the answers and comfort I need. After months of complaining and concern, my parents brushed it off as mosquitoes. The issue was getting bad now, bites everywhere on my legs, itchiness all over and even my coworkers asking why I had so many bites on my legs. Genuinely, I was stressed and the paranoia became more than I could handle. I couldn’t sleep in my own bed without feeling like a biohazard, and I could never go to my office without feeling dirty or like a kid with lice going to school. I have a huge problem with ‘feeling’ clean and I had horrible OCD during the time of Covid. Finally once we had found one while cleaning the sheets, in whereby my mom had confirmed I wasn’t going crazy. I had sobbed about feeling crazy and how dirty I felt with not only such a big secret but with how the stress affected my sleep and my ability to feel comfortable in my house. My dad (when I had come crying to him) had told me he’d deal with it and that we would be okay, which I unfortunately believed. After finding bed bugs in a variety of places from the span of a month after we found the first one (near my head, my pillows, near my body, etc.) I had become reluctant to sleep in my bed (sleeping on my desk, sleeping in my sisters room with clean clothes, etc.) and would rely on my sisters generosity to sleep near the end of her bed. Once she had asked me to stop tho I did, and had made the mistake of accidentally falling asleep on the foot end of my parents bed. I woke up to go to the bathroom to go to the bathroom and came back, requesting to go to sleep on the foot end of my parents bed.

Huge tw for abuse, but that night was one of the worst in my life as this had lead to my father signing and huffing in a loud and annoyed manner. I had known I fucked up and I told him it’s fine and I’d just sleep in my room, which he ignored and then I blocked the door with my body and told him I didn’t want any issues and just to go to bed.

Context for this part, but my father has put hands on me in the past, this is enough times where I specifically had ptsd for a while with the memory of my dad nearly choking me out when I was 16, and cps being called as when I was a child he would throw chairs at me, whip me with a belt, emotionally and mentally torture me by making a fake family he would threaten to kidnap me and give off to, etc. I used to brush this off as normal parenting things, as some parents play the “the police will take you away if you’re naughty” card, but I quickly realized this wasn’t normal in the slightest when I would talk about being hit in the head multiple times for talking back or how I had to learn boxing in order for me to have some sort of way to defend myself. It sounds nearly movie life but my teenage years were filled with a lot of beating from my dad and a lot of times I blamed myself for a grown man battering his child.

After I had blocked the door with my body, he had pushed me, and after my attempts to tell him to go back to bed and that I didn’t want to do this, he had pushed me to the ground and proceeded to try and choke me out. I proceeded to bite his left leg to get out of his grasp and he started punching me in the head. I wasn’t feeling the pounding yet but my main objective was to deescalate and leave without genuinely getting hurt. After a while argument my mom had tried to step in and I accidentally hurt her arm by trying to get her off my body as I was getting battered by my dad in the meantime, which ended up with her screaming how I bent her arm weird and she ended up letting my dad keep beating on me. Everything is very blurry. I remember standing up and screaming for help in my native language, then in English and no one helping. After thinking I had a chance to catch my breath my dad hit me in the right side of my jaw and repeated to hit me in the side of the head, nose and teeth, which resulted in a bad swollen black eye and blood everywhere. I had started to have a panic attack after seeing the blood, and called my mom to help, who was laying down on the couch. I told her that I wanted her and that this wasn’t funny anymore but she told me I did this to myself and to go to the bathroom to wash up. I had then ran outside and called anyone I could for help, resulting in my poor best friend rushing out of bed with her bf and driving me to the hospital. In the hospital I kept having panic attacks when mentioning my attack, and I kept asking my friends if this was just a bad dream. This was truly one of the worst nights of my life, as I kept losing consciousness in my exhausted state just begging I would wake up to this never being real. After seeing a doctor they had told me I was fine, with potential minor brain damage (sure minor okay bro) and had set me on my way with a counsellor and a heavy conversation about DV resources in my area.

Thankfully I had two angels in my life who had drove me after and told me I would sleep at my friends place, getting McDonalds, and then letting me smoke a well deserved cigarette. I had slept over at her, explaining the bedbugs and washing my clothes before she let me change into hers. For a while it felt like I had no place to go, and with a horrible makeup job I went back to work as a primary school teacher.

Afterwards I knew I didn’t want to go back and I knew I would have to sleep on the streets, which was a last resort but resulted in the most scary, painful nights of my life. During my time sleeping on the streets I had just wanted my mom to call, my sister to call, just someone to come in a warm car and pick me up thinking it was a bad dream. Then I caved in and asked if I could come home to my mom, who told me I had done this to myself and that I was blowing things out of the water with my dramatics. I came home defeated at 2am and took a well deserved shower.

I had rarely spoke to my family afterwards and had made an effort to avoid my family at all costs, come home when my family was not at work, etc, which even now I practice just in case. My mother and I just pretended to not confront the issue, until we blew up into an argument when I told her I just wanted an apology. She had responded by saying that it’s me that should apologize to my father and her, as she went to the hospital for her arm and did an X-ray to confirm it was a mild sprain, and my dad needed a butterfly bandage somewhere on his brow when I had scratched him (which I still don’t believe as I never saw one). She said I kept yelling how they ruined my life and how much pain they’ve caused me (as for context, I financially strained my future for them due to a loan of 5k with a lot of interest when they were going homeless and landed myself with more debt than I would’ve wished), as they requested 500 monthly for ‘rent’ (even though they are more far more financially stable).

I had argued no one deserves this kind of treatment and that’s it’s not normal for parents to hit their kids. She had told me that’s what I get for rejecting my dad’s kindness and that he was offering the bed and I refused, making it my fault for getting beat and that me twisting her arm made her lose all sympathy for me in this situation. I told her that I don’t think it’s my fault but she kept saying how I was a brat during the whole “argument” and how I kept screaming about things like how badly they fucked me over financially and how I wished I could’ve killed myself, etc etc revolving around money and how I wished they would’ve gotten me an apartment with the 50k we got from the government in child benefits. She said that my dad felt sorry and said it wasn’t right to do that to a woman, and that next time he’ll just kick me out of the house and how ‘worried’ they both were.

Safe to say the only way I was going to feel normal with my mom was to admit I was wrong and that it was my fault.

Fast forward to now. We still have bedbugs. They refuse to do the treatment because “it’s annoying to move things around”. I sleep with my mom now and I’ve spent most of my time with my bf and friends to forget the weird looming feeling I’ve been having while at home.

Here’s my main feelings and thoughts: I do feel at fault. I feel like this could’ve been prevented if I just shut up and took my dad’s bed for the night: I’m an extremely prideful person and didn’t want my dad sleeping on a bedbug bed, but I feel like I could’ve just done something other than what I did. Maybe I just feel some weird sense of duality of knowing this was wrong but feeling like maybe I was just a bad kid and that I needed to be taught a lesson in sucking up my pride. This has been a weird journey of pain and betrayal in my life and I keep seeing shit about forgetting the past and how much dad’s struggle with life and I feel like I can just erase all the this tension if I swallow my pride and make up to my father. On the other side I know he went too far.

After I got into a very healthy relationship with my bf during this whole ordeal, I’ve seen that even if men have strength, they don’t use it against others and that strength shouldn’t be used to hurt but to protect. It’s a weird thought but I just realized I shouldn’t be scared of men in the same way I’m terrified of my father. I know I still deep down miss the relationship I have with my dad, all the strong hugs and all the time I’ve been able to have a good relationship with him but this has crossed a line I didn’t think he’d cross.

Would it be wrong to put my feelings of hurt aside to mend this fucked up relationship? If I accept him back would he even acknowledge the wrong he did to me? Would I not have a father to walk me down the aisle to my wedding, be a grandfather to my future children, or would he even acknowledge my pain? I know I’m mixing my emotions with logical reasoning, but I never want to cut off my family from my life in these important moments and truthfully, I just wish I had a normal dad.

So my biggest concern is whether I should’ve just not escalated the situation and if this could be remedied in the slightest even if I didn’t act the way I did. Thank you for reading this and I wish you all a blessed day.

Edit: TLDR added!
Edit 2: my apologies for the formatting, I have done my best to add paragraphs. I’m on mobile and ik wasn’t sure if my changes would be made