15 Years Since my Fathers Suicide
My life has been no walk in the park. I mean emotional, verbal, and physical abuse while growing up, school sucked, people/bullys are assholes. My parents could never keep it together (and by parents I really mean my mother and step-father). And by, “keep it together,” I mean hold a job, a house, keep the lights on, and food on the table. I moved out at 16 because it got so bad and my mother refused to leave. The breaking point was my step-father beating the fuck out of my mom in the front yard while I ran down the stairs to break it apart by throwing myself into the middle of it, only for my step father to grab my mom and start beating her again. Typical dependance, gross. Despite all of this I say I turned out relatively normal (I assume). I have plenty of faults. I can be the funnest, silliest, crazy person, and then lose my shit in the drop if a hat. My temper and mood swings have always been horrendous,
Both of the men in my mothers life were abusive assholes and instead of embodying my mothers weak submissive behavior, I embodied the, “fuck you, I take no shit from anyone,” attitude, which is cool, at least I do not get walked on, BUT a HUGE fault and shortcoming in the professional and cordial sense. I wish I was taught to mask my emotions you know? Like a secret agent can?
This month always sucks EXTRA hard. This year on the 11th of December my dad will have committed suicide 15 years ago. I wish he was here now more than ever. Every year he’s dead I feel different. To understand, you have to know I was taken away from him at the age of 1. I flew back and forth during the summers to Florida to visit him and my family there, but I never had a regular relationship with the man. The last time I saw him I was 14. He yelled and screamed at me for not sending my Nanny more cards, then he took me to the airport, forced himself to kiss me, put me on the plane and sent me back to Cali. Then 5 months later, he killed himself. Whats fucked more than that, is the entire trip I stayed with him and my sister, he talked endlessly about taking a life insurance policy out on himself and committing suicide because then his daughters would be set, and “that bitch kris,” (My youngest sisters mother) would get what she wanted, money. Hilarious, insurance companies don't pay out for suicide dad, DAH! This was the first and only summer, my two sisters and I were all together. I was 14, Amber was 7 and Nicole was 3. I remember it was the first time my sister Amber was a person to me. She use to be a helpless baby and now she was a stupid, annoying, attention whore sister and I hated her, I absolutely hated her haha (WE laugh about this now).
One thing to know is my real father never wanted me. I had brown hair and brown eyes apparently he wanted a blonde hair blue eyed child (where TF are we Germany in WW2)? Amber was that kid, blonde hair, blue eyes. I grew up being told he didn’t want me and he never bothered with custody with me, but he fought tooth and nail for Amber. I think that always hurt and stuck with me. For sure it did. I should have some serious daddy issues ya’ll, thank god I don’t.
My fathers lack of presence in my life allowed him to go to school after the military and become a registered nurse. Its this fact that makes the rest so difficult. He was found dead in his house with an exploded heart. The story was, he mixed the wrong pain killers by accident with alcohol which caused the explosion of his heart. Thats what my Nanny (his mom) told me, even as I aged (I think she still thinks this was an accident), but remember, he told me he was going to commit suicide AND he was a registered nurse, he knew what he was doing. Last year I requested the autopsy report because on the death certificate it says ‘To be determined,’ or something like that. Man was he loaded up on some drugs; barbiturates, allergy medicine, cannabis, cocaine, alcohol, and I think opiates as well. Suicide cocktail right?
I have to admit when I was told at 14 I was unfazed but fazed. I was numb, but I knew this was a big thing that happened and I should be affected. I remember going to school and being fine and then in US History I just started crying, it was the weirdest thing. I ran to the bathroom and thats all I remember of that next day (I was told the night before).
Every year my feelings change. Every year I am more affected, hurt, mad, upset, confused, sad. Its nice to talk to my sister Amber about it because she was old enough to remember and she spent more time with him than any of us. She understands because she goes through a similar trauma. I mean its kinda uncanning how we both ended up 2k miles away with a VERY similar life relationship experience with our mothers, step-fathers, and biological father. Its hard. I think about the last time I saw him and how, at each others throats we were. How I was confused why he was so mad at me about sending my Nanny cards. I lived in the boonies, I had no money, my parents had no money, I had no form of transportation, how could I send her more cards? I was 14 and I always covered for my home living conditions and how my parents were, so he didn’t know my living situation at all, no one did. I made it seem fine on purpose because I was scared of being taken away, though today, I am not entirely sure why. I wish he was here.
I hear I am the most like him outta his 3 daughters. My short fuse, my highest of happy highs, my “thinness” (My nanny always liked to point out peoples figure, she’s vain and obsessed, and so was my father. My father called my mom fat at 108 pounds sooooooooo now you know), my nanny always compliments my figure and thinness it's "like my father," my eyes, the looks I make with my face, my ambition, its all like him I guess. I wish I could remember and meet him as an adult. Like, “Hey man, you’re a nurse and I love science, can we be best friends?” Lol I wonder if we would like each other? Would I have moved there for college? I remember he bought this house last time I saw him and he was redoing EVERYTHING, (BEFORE YOUTUBE) haha! It was an awesome house in a shitty neighborhood but he had this spark, this vision when talking about it, and it sounded like it was going to be awesome! Would I have lived there? Unfortunately, the house and all of his cars (he collected cars and attempted to restore them), were sold to repay his debts so I didn’t get much of him ( nothing to remember him by) and I choose not to go to his funeral. I was so young and I didn’t know what to do at a funeral, or how to act, so I choose to not go sadly. I was given his Military flag and I hold pictures dear, but thats all I have really.
Anyway, this year I am not speaking to my step father or mother either (for more on that, seek out “A complicated relationship” blog post here). It was my step- fathers bday 2 days ago and I didn't call. First time ever. I just feel like I am always compromising and forgiving and I get nothing in return. No apologies or even acknowledging wrong doings. This year I stuck to my guns and I feel awful but its needed. The holidays suck as always, I am not going to Florida like I wanted, due to same family stuff and I am scrooge for sure. A BAH HUMBUG to everyone lol. I try to not wear my feelings on my sleeve, but I have never been good at that, so I’ll try harder. Monday is going to suck. 15 years! Wow, dad, you have officially been dead longer than half my life. I don’t like being 29, I don’t like this month, this year. I am really hoping to turn things around in 2018. I wish I could go back. The regrets really start to surface in this ripe old age lol.
I guess this is all fuel to my ambition. Never stop trying, keep going, if you fall, get your ass back up, because I literally have no one to catch me. I don’t have family. Self proclaimed orphan. If you are wondering why I put my life out there, know I always have with friends. I have never been shy, I think its important to share experiences. Especially mine. Why? Because I am weird and its important to me for people to understand me, and where I am coming from. I always like hearing about peoples lives, because then I have data. When someone acts this way or that way, I can extrapolate why, and make sense of it and I hope people do that with me, even if its a wrong interpretation of my actions. I chalk it up to being like religion. People use religion to make sense of horrible experiences. I use data of peoples lives to make sense of their horrible behavior lol. I can understand or try to with data and so can everyone else. Also, I never saw any of this as abnormal or weird, hard or handicapping until I talked to a counselor in college. This counselor helped me write my personal statement for the pre-medical post-bacc program. She asked me to tell her my life story (at the time I was 23), and by the end of it, her mouth was on the floor and she was telling me what an anomaly I was. That I should be pregnant in my home town in a dead end job. It wasn’t until then, that I saw myself as disadvantaged, and to be honest, as much as I thanked that counselor for her help, I wish she never would have told me that. It wasn’t until then, that I began to feel sorry for myself and it was that mentality that stifled my growth for a couple years I think. People should never be told to feel sorry for themselves, they should be told, “Wow I can’t believe you went through that with your head on straight, you're a badass, use that to fuel your future. If you can get through that you can get through anything,” then high five them, and move on.
Please do not feel sorry for me. This has all been character building. When I say I want people to understand me and thats why I am so open, that is not to say, please make excuses for my behavior if I am wrong or horrible. That is to say, if I am horrible, understand where I came from and why I am the way I am, why I am so focused, why I take no shit, why I call you out on your BS, but also, call me out, confront me, tell me I'm being a bitch. Everyone needs that at times! I am constantly working on myself because I absorbed some bad behavior from my home life, from my fathers, and its nice to have friends that can understand and confront me to help me be a better person.
Come on 2018, WE GOT THIS! And to my late Father, I love you, I miss you, and I will never stop wishing I could talk to you just one more time. Heres to getting through Monday with minimal tears at work.