Mental Health My Life Story Time

Why I no Longer Speak to my Father

I am no longer speak to my dad. The reasonings are… extensive. I don’t even know where to begin so I guess I’ll begin at the beginning.

I was born on October 10, 1990… just kidding.

But when I was a child I was very close to him. Despite everything he did to my mom. Some I consumed as a little girl, other things I realized myself. He would pick fights with my mom and get angry over the littlest of things. Their fights were explosive and damaging to me. Which only makes me feel worse for my mom. My dad would automatically start in on “you dumb bitch” this, “You fucking bitch” that. It taught me that it was okay to call people names when you’re angry. (Which is something that is NOT okay.)

He would continuously tell me not to be so negative and then add “like your mother”. Or “Don’t listen to what your mother has to say.” He would then turn around and preach to me that I needed to treat everyone with respect because that’s what “Jesus wants us to do.”

When I was in 5th grade, shortly after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, my dad decided to make a flag out of string-lights. He hung it up in the giant 40ish foot tall tree in our backyard. It was a symbol of pride you could see for at least a mile. One day, October 17, 2001, a little over a month after the terrorist attack, he decided to climb up with no climbing gear to make a “quick fix” and fell 30 feet to the ground below him. He broke 10 ribs on each side, his left lung collapsed, his collar bone broke, his sternum broke, and he had 3 skull fractures. He spent 3 weeks in the hospital. Most of which was in the ICU where he was loaded up on morphine.

When he was released from the hospital he was a completely different person than when he went in. He was meaner and snappier. He was set off by the smallest things.

By 6th grade I was closer to my mom than my dad and my dad didn’t like that and became more hostile towards my mother.

They bought a house when I was almost in 7th grade in a town 30 miles north from where we lived. So I transferred to a new school for 7th and 8th grade. These quickly became the two worst years of my life. (Blog to come soon.) But my dad turned into a more evil person as I grew up and went through high school.

His drinking became so out of control that he was fired from his very good engineering job. He tried to convince us he was “laid-off” but he had been the only one to be “laid-off” in his department and he had been there for almost 20 years. (When you drink every day, you smell like alcohol every day. Even if you’re a “functioning alcoholic”).

When I was 16 my parents finally divorced and I cheered. I was so happy that my mom was getting out of her very toxic marriage. My father had not been a good or even a decent person to my mom, ever. But his toxicity towards her continued past this and got to the point that I had to stop inviting him to holiday’s and birthday’s at my house because my mom didn’t want to be around him and I had to respect that. I would much rather have my amazing mom with me for these events then someone that may or may not show up shit-faced.

His actions have embarrassed me even when it was just drunk calls to me at night. Like he thought he could sneak it passed me despite me knowing he was an alcoholic and refused help. I knew what he sounded like drunk. I know what he sounds like drunk. I’m not dumb.

I had to cut him out of my life in 2014 due to his behavior and horrible rhetoric on social media. He would do what I like to call as “drunk-facebooking” where he would share/write horrible fake things about Obama that just made no sense. He shared the most obscure articles that I could trace back to multiple fact-checking websites as false. And then he started attacking individuals. I wrote him and told him I was done with him because of this. He didn’t care.

I made up with him right before my daughter was born because I felt guilty and it was okay for a while. Then he met his (now ex) wife and things seemed to stable out. I believed he quit drinking. I was hurt that it took someone other than his daughter to shape him up but I was happy he was changing.

Then came the phone call last December letting me know that he was getting divorced due to his drinking. He convinced me it was only a small amount but I know better now. He became worse with it.

In July of this past year (2020) because of the awful things he did to my family and the awful things he was saying on Facebook, I had to cut him off. I told him I would no longer be speaking to him and blocked him on everything. He thinks that I cut him out of my life due to his political views, unfortunately, it’s so much more than that.

Here is the real story drove drunk to my families house in a RENTED u-haul truck to drop off a bed that wasn’t that important to us. Had we known he had been drinking we would have cancelled. But we had no idea until he showed up smelling of alcohol and slurring his words. He claimed to have had a couple beers with a friend but we aren’t stupid. A couple beers to an alcoholic is like a sip. It wouldn’t have made him as drunk as he was. Then while he was here, he hurt my oldest son and physically pushed my daughter away. Both of whom are scarred from it and don’t care to ever see him again at this point. He was angry and irritated and was going off on rants. He became argumentative with me. I just agreed with what he said because I didn’t feel like arguing with a drunk person.

Shortly after this visit, he began to degrade EVERYONE on Facebook, constantly. And over the smallest things.

In Jan, I found out he was part of the awful insurrection. He didn’t attack the U.S. Capitol but he admitted AND bragged about beating the shit out of someone at the Denver Capitol building. He thought he was so big and bad when in reality, he looked like an idiot. He still doesn’t seem to care. He thinks what he did was right but I grew up with him telling me that physical violence is never the answer. (Despite the fact he was physical with my mom and second oldest brother.) I was broken hearted to see that. Not only did he brag about it, but he copied and pasted his bragging into SEVERAL comments.

So, no, it isn’t just his “political views” like he seems to think. It’s so much more than that and I’m over it. I’ve only touched base on the shit my father has done to me and other family members. This post would be so much longer if I wrote it all down. I count part of my bipolar diagnosis toward him. He was the one, when I was a child, that made me think I wasn’t allowed to express emotions by screaming at me to stop crying every time I was hurt or sad. I was afraid of emotions for a long time because of him. I had daddy issues by the time I was 12. Our relationship has been very fragile since around that same time and I’ve finally had enough of his toxicity.

What hurts a lot is he is blaming my mom for me cutting him out of my life. It hurts me because it hurts my mom. It also hurts me because he’s basically insinuating that I can’t make my own decisions even though I am 30 years old. My mom had nothing to do with my decision to cut him out in 2014 or now. It was always me.

My father is NOT a good person and I do believe my bipoloar stemmed from him and the things I saw and heard while I was a child. And the way he treated me for showing emotion.

Make sure to like this post if you want the full story of things I went through as a child. I’d gladly fill in the blanks.

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