I’m not very critical of either of my parents. I think they might have screwed me up some but the good in both of them far outweighed the bad.
Both my parents died years ago, my mom 5 years ago and my dad about 10 years ago.
My dad was cool and a nice guy, no doubt about it. He was a functioning alcoholic for many years so he had his demons and faults for sure. But I only saw him drunk on rare occasions and the worst he did was hurt my mom’s feelings occasionally and make her cry. I felt bad for her but it was not my place to interfere.
He never got violent at any of us and never verbally abused us children.
My dad grew up poor, my mom grew up living comfortably. In this respect they were very different, in fact it’s hard to tell how they got together in the first place and stayed married for about 20 years.
My dad was a tough guy. Him and his friends in the small town he grew up in started drinking and going to bars and frequented “cathouses” from an early age. All of them drank, fought, and chased girls for their main entertainment and most of them including my dad couldn’t wait to turn 18 and fight in WWII. To their disappointment, the war ended before they could get into it. But most of them joined the service right out of high school and ended up fighting in Korea.
My mom on the other hand lived in places like Palm Springs, CA and grew up around rich people and movie stars. Just on a typical day it wasn’t unusual for her to see Bob Hope strolling down the sidewalk or see some world famous actress like Katherine Hepburn two tables away enjoying a drink at the country club.
But anyways they got married and had me and my two sisters. We moved around and we never had a lot of money but we were comfortable and usually had a nice car and lived in nice neighborhoods and had many friends who were millionaire’s.
My dad grew up in that little town and my mom grew up mingling with the rich and affluent and when I got diagnosed with schizophrenia at age 19 they knew nothing about it.
So here was my dad at age 50 and my mom at age 44 and both my sisters had left and were out on their own and they have a 19 year old son who should be just beginning to make his own way in the world and become an independent adult in the world but I get schizophrenia and end up on medication in a psyche ward and then become psychotic and instead of enjoying their lives with each other before they got old, they had to still worry about my welfare and make decisions for me about where I should live and visit me in the hospital etc.
I mean with their background’s, what did they know about schizophrenia?
But they both stepped up to the plate for over 30 years to help me every way they could. Including finding hospitals for me and other housing and dealing behind the scenes with doctors and hospitals and Social Security and Medicaid.
And not just that. But almost as important was including me in so much stuff and taking me places with them. I mean even with schizophrenia I was going out to eat with them or to movies, parties, trips, out to coffee, plays, concerts, clubs, comedy clubs, camping, etc. They included me in whatever they could.
So I guess you can see why I could overlook or at least tolerate my dad’s occasional sarcasm or my mom making me mad. My family are honestly good people and I have seen it proved over and over again in their actions and their words and by the friends in their lives and the people they ended up marrying. I could go on forever about their good points which is why I accept their bad points.
When your family saves your life and treats you fairly and sensitively for 40 years with having schizophrenia it tends to bring out your loyalty and gratefulness towards them in a big way. Don’t get me wrong, we got pissed at each other all the time, we had our arguments and disagreements but for the most part we got along amazingly well.
I still have my sisters and after knowing each other for almost 60 years me and my sisters still like being around each other after all these years. Amazing.