Schizophrenia.com

Figured I'd talk about my dad a bit (This hits close to the heart)

I’ve invoked memories of my dad more than once today. Usually when that happens it means there’s an issue brimming close to the surface that needs addressing.

I lost my dad to suicide over 14 years ago. Gosh, has it really been that long? Seems like both yesterday and 100 years ago at the same time. Man I miss the old man. I wish I had gotten the chance to know him as a person and not just a father. What I mean is, and I see this with my wife and her dad, is that you see your parents as your parents and it takes years to figure out what their politics are…or what the name of their first girl/boyfriend was, etc.

I have a wall of memories in my mind. It’s like I have a barricade in my mind of good and bad times, and memories fall into one camp or the other. My relationship with my dad hinged on a single day, a single moment. Literally, just like that, in the bat of an eye, our relationship did a 180.

I’ve wrote of that day on here before - and it was the day I first hallucinated and entered psychosis. Without recounting the whole day in question, let me just say we had a huge fight, I ran away for a minute, and heard command voices instructing me to go back and kill him and my step-mother. I tried, but he physically stopped me, and I took a baseball bat and destroyed property. I was 12.

Never again did my father and I have a good relationship. November 7, 1994, at about 7 pm everything went to hell.

My father and I did a lot of fun things together. We would go fishing or crabbing, go hunt for fossils along the Atlantic and Chesapeake coast, and play baseball. He taught me about all the 1950s New York Yankees, and we even met Mickey Mantle. Lots of those ideal father-son interactions.

Then there was the other side. This “new him” came out after that fateful night. The physical abuse, the bloody noses and bruises, the belt whippings and the punches, all new to me. I knew he had a temper as I grew up, but I NEVER thought he’d turn it on me. It was never even a thought - my mind simply did not go down that road.

I think I’ve said enough. I set out to talk more about it, but I just feel that emotion coming back, and I don’t want to ruin what is a good day by thinking about all that crap.

Thank you, dear reader, for your time. Thoughts and comments are always appreciated.

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I’m sorry you were thinking about all the bad stuff.

Yesterday I discovered that when I was five years old I told my mom I didn’t llike my father but he was the only one I got, and that I came home from his house crying everytime I was with him. I have that blocked out of my memory, I don’t really know what happened and my delusions say I was sexually abused, but I don’t want to trust in false memories. So there’s no way on knowing for sure what happened.

I also saw my dad kill himself, but slowly, with alcohol, becoming someone intolerable, unhealthy, always manic or depressed, drinking until he passed out. Skinny as bones, couldn’t even get out of bed to eat. Multiple hospitalizations, etc…

I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, maybe it’s a link between us, different types of abuse.

You’re not alone.
Big hug.