Merry Christmas, Here's Why I Moved 1,700 Miles from "HOME"

Yeah, I'm pretty fucking far from OK.

I'm no psychologist, but I think it may be connected to the fact that I haven't seen a card, a gift, a phone call, a text message, or an email from EITHER of my parents on my birthday or Christmas in years.

I don't drink anymore, I don't use drugs anymore. I don't run around with abusive men anymore, I don't cut myself anymore, I don't binge eat anymore. (Not that ANY of that was even evident to these self absorbed assholes before I ever told them I had a problem.)

Years of therapy, hospitalizations, jail, and rehabs and the result is the same.

I am alone. I always have been.

Today, I lay in bed sobbing, desperately wanting to get out and go to the beach. But as I get my body to my bedroom door, my heart aches and my knees buckle. Back to bed, sobbing, hours go by and I try repeatedly to get out of my own fucking way. 

I miss my grandparents and those chance holidays of my childhood where I might perhaps have an opportunity to feel loved by anyone. I've seen my Aunts/Uncles/Cousins less than a dozen times in my whole life (well, since I was old enough to remember). I know it wasn't due to any lack of trying on their part, and I always felt loved and cared for when I did see them. 

Suddenly I have all these people step up when I'm 40 and say they knew what was going on and they wanted to help me when I was a child. What good does that do to know now? I've got 40 years of validation that they are insane, I don't need to hear it at my Grandmother's funeral.

I work DAMN HARD not to feel the way I do about my parents. Not to feel all of this pain inside all of the time. But let's be honest, it's the holidays and people get stressed and overwhelmed with misery. I want to trudge forward but I can't lie to myself, the odds of coming out the other end of this wildly successful and well adjusted are pretty much less than nil.

Part of a letter to my father

I informed my father of my recent stay at a local psychiatric hospital. I'd been depressed, isolating, and cutting... two of my friends had intervened and I was hospitalized. He wrote back and admitted to some very similar feelings and thoughts that he has struggled with all his life, this was his 63rd birthday, and the first time that we had achieved such a meaningful and personal level of conversation, part of my response was this:

As for psycho-pharmacology... I won't take meds. 

After the last medical horror show I went through, I can't justify putting man-made chemicals into my bloodstream any more. I was doing very well maintaining a healthy medium with increased stability between highs and lows for a significant period of time when placing Omega 3's, B-Complex vitamins, going organic at times, and avoiding fast food, processed foods, and preservatives. I've researched it and worked with holistic nutritionists in the past and found that it CAN work for ME.

More silently I will add, I am very much anti-government, anti-big-pharma, and anti-religion, let the record reflect that I am also anti-Alex Jones and his crazy cohorts... I simply won't be a slave to anyone's agendas real or fantasized. I have high anxiety around fanatical groups, sometimes anxiety is our minds way of saying, "Get the hell away from this"... I've come to believe only about half of what I see and none of what I hear until I've proven it to myself... and you know it's true about me, I'll burn my hand on the same hot stove 365 ways until I either admit defeat or find the my own way in (never the easier, softer way).

Regarding your admission of your own tormented mind, that comforts me quite a bit. We all know my mother would never admit to "feeling" anything that would prevent her from keeping up appearances. What you've shared with me helps, primarily I can't really feel so all alone in this... and like you, it's often that I do. Even when I meet another person who feels like I do, or is wired like me, it's hard to set appropriate boundaries or establish roles in my life or theirs.   Did you know??? >> Some studies have shown that when adults whose IQ's differ by more than 10 points are in a close working environment, relationship, or cohabitation: One or both may exhibit anxiety or discomfort, one or both may feel disconnected or out of place, at times they may even become hostile toward one another. I can absolutely identify with this, (especially when the thought is that I am surrounded by idiots) however this information doesn't always lead me to healthy behavior, as it is typical of me to believe that I'm the superior brain... At that point (if I'm not mindful), I will find myself falling down a rabbit hole of less than ideal behaviors and/or attitudes such as: manipulation, extortion, egomania, delusions of grandeur, or just allow me to come off as a pretentious douche that nobody wants to be around. Uncle Rick made mention of Mimi teaching him not to take himself too seriously. I think that this is the message that I needed to hear, I don't know about you, but I sure can be INTENSE at times ('specially when I think I'm wicked smaht).

I've determined that simple words like "SHOULD" cause me more harm than good when reflecting back on my own choices or actions. "I should know better, I should have done this or I shouldn't have done that". Facts are facts, done is done, time moves forward and nothing can be UNdone. So what I can take away from it and apply to make even the smallest change in my life TODAY is what separates me from the clinically or criminally INSANE. The word is also problematic when dealing with others. "She should know better, she should have done this, she should do that"... Who the hell am I to comment on what anyone else should or shouldn't do, I can barely manage my own life, there is no rule book, what makes me think I've got all the answers to making life "right"...? I need to focus on keeping my own side of the street clean and forget finding fault in everyone else. I've got a lifetime of shortcomings to work on. Amazingly enough, this has allowed me to find forgiveness and to let go of resentment toward others AND sometimes even myself. However my feelings of failure and worthlessness, can be overwhelming and paralyzing, this is the stuff that feeds my isolation and self soothing, it's as if my mind is holding me captive on the inside and torturing me on the outside.

That's the shit that they diagnose as, "BPD" Borderline Personality Disorder (which is treatable without medication) and that's truly in my opinion the issue at the core of my Bipolar and other "psychiatric disorders".

So as you can see, I'm kind of bright, even though I deliberately used and abused street drugs as a way to burn out my brain so that I could be just like everyone else. I write... A LOT... it's my healthiest outlet (except when I don't sleep for days because the words flow from my brain to my fingertips like they are right now).

You know the field or psychology, Dad. Removing your personal connection to me from your mind entirely, you can't actually say that there is something "seriously wrong" with the things I've shared above, or the way that I'm able to articulate or present myself, can you?

Which is precisely the reason I've been brushed aside and overlooked.

However...

When all of the above exists, I've isolated from the outside world so long I can't open my door or answer my phone, I'm wavering in and out of consciousness while causing myself physical harm, dismissing or disengaging myself from some or all of my personal responsibilities for extended periods of time, or even going to extraordinary lengths to secretly cause harm to an unsuspecting victim while making them believe that I am their only trusted friend twisting their perception and turning them against their faith, families, or employers... The diagnosis becomes far different and more serious, doesn't it?

How hard is it to diagnose a person who has "never been caught" or never acted on outrageous impulses as Passive Aggressive, or with Antisocial Personality Disorder?

I've developed this obsession with finding patterns. For the purpose of prevention, my entire manner of being has changed from reactive to proactive and I believe that it is a result of my need to be well and to feel safe.

I desperately needed to come forward and seek help because [upon admitting the truth about events from my past to myself, coming to understand some of the "why's" around my preferences and tendencies throughout all of my diverse social circles, reflecting honestly on my behavior] I began to identify patterns, I began recognizing what I may be capable of, I began to FEAR what might happen if I took my emotional health for granted... Like an out of shape heart patient deciding to train for a 5k race, I suddenly became invested in my own emotional fitness.

So while the past 16 weeks of my life seem to have manifested as this "Perfect Storm" of events... All hope is not lost. I'm where I belong, and I will remind myself at the times that I feel I am smarter than the professionals, it's only because I've lived with the shit they read about in text books and I've managed to locate the other side, and now I need to rely on their outside knowledge and experience as I would an extended hand to help to pull me through.

Something tells me this is the beginning of a new leg in my journey. One that I'm becoming ready to face.

18 and Straight-Edge, STILL My Daughter

The more things clear up for me, the sharper the reality becomes. I am a product of two people who have always had their own internal, personal, or even psychological issues and both continually make the same poor choices, and refuse to acknowledge that they "own" even a fraction of accountability for the things that happen in their lives as a result.

That is OK, I have no control over them, or how they wish to live their lives, and I made one poor choice in leaving my daughter with one of these people when I was actively abusing drugs and couldn't take care of her myself. Sort of a lesser of two evils decision, there really wasn't a better one in hindsight. So for the past 6 years while I've been soul searching and working through 12 step programs to make a serious effort to improve my thinking on a daily basis, my child has been living in the very toxicity which I could not bear. I did make room for my daughter to come and live with me, repeatedly extended the offer over the past 4 years and finally stopped asking. She knows that she wouldn't be allowed to live the way she does where she is. (Up all night on the computer or playing video games, sleeping all day, no job, poor hygiene, no structure, no therapy, no school). I can't control how a teenager behaves, but I can lay down the boundaries of what I am willing to tolerate in my own home.

Needless to say because my child has not lived with me for several years and is now 18, she's not really interested in the whole mother daughter relationship. I have talked with her about drugs, about alcohol, about sex, about peer pressure, about anger and rage, she views everything as a lecture, and responds with "I know, Mom". She won't talk about anything but girl gossip and teen-aged drama, I don't  know what to give her on birthdays and holidays, because she is so over-indulged to begin with. She's over 300 pounds, her inevitable addiction has manifested itself in food, although she denies it. I don't know how to help her and suddenly it becomes clear that she doesn't WANT my help. I can't be the one who helps her, I get that, but I am the only one trying. In fact, I am the only person in my family working on improving my life, and that makes me the enemy.

My daughter, views me as an asshole for having not pulled my head out of my ass 12 years before so that I could have been the mother she imagines I would be. My mother thinks that insanity is a choice and blames my father's side of the family for the choices I made which "made [me] crazy". Both are living in the past. I made my amends, and continue to, I follow through by being available and reliable and keeping my promises, my temper improved, although there were many days when I had to cut my visit short, as my bullshit meter was in the red and I was about to blow a gasket.

Which brings us to yesterday. Thanksgiving Saturday with my mother and daughter, out to lunch and to a movie... We get to the restaurant and my anorexic mother says she doesn't want to eat, but orders a meal anyway so that my food addicted daughter can have two entrees. When I make a comment about it, my daughter decides she doesn't want anything at all. The tension begins, there is a disturbance in the force, and I am already the bad guy for having pointed out the obvious. Then we go to the movie, walking back to the car, it is COLD out, my daughter is dressed for early fall not 30 degree weather, starts complaining about the temperature. I point out that she's not dressed for the weather, she argues that her winter coat is no warmer... Naturally, I say, do you need a new winter coat? She says "No, I hate the cold weather" (she has never lived in or even visited ANY other climate). My response is, "OK then, get a job and move out to a warmer part of the world" She SNAPS before I know it she's gone, now my mother and I are sitting in the car while she has her tantrum somewhere outside in this cold which she cannot handle... 30 minutes go by and she finally gets in the car, I ask her why she took off, especially if she is "so cold" she flips out again, almost psychotically, screaming at the top of her lungs and making little to no sense.

The general barrage of fuck you's and I hate you's were followed up by, "You were never there" and "you don't even care" as it turns out, the trigger phrase that had set her in motion was the "get a job" part. "I've been trying so hard to get a job, Mom, you don't even know." A better parent may have allowed this to end right then, however my parents did me a dis-service by not calling me on my lies and bullshit. Earlier in the week and again in the day, I had asked my daughter if she had tried on ANY of the $200.00 worth of clothes that I had bought her 5 weeks prior, "not yet" was the response. Considering those clothes were "help find and secure a job" clothes... Considering every one of her "posts" on social media sites was something about video games or horror movies, and had been time stamped all throughout the hours of the night when most people sleep, and my mother had been complaining to me that she sleeps all damn day long when most people job hunt, I called her out. I threw the bullshit flag, without a notion of my how my actions would be received, and it was ugly.

Although emotionally hung over, I do not regret what I did. I placed the accountability back on my 18 year old, because my mother never did (on either of us). Of course blame has been passed through the family several times, not the same, and not something that I have time for. My daughter has adapted her skills to be in shape for the blame game and this has become very convenient for her. I made it very clear that I wouldn't allow her to lie to herself in my presence. We all make our choices, and we are not victims of the consequences when we make one that doesn't turn out the way we WANT it to. Since life is such a learning experience, I am grateful today for the consequences of my choices, some are a jagged pill to swallow, but all are a direct result of the way I choose to make decisions.

My mother and daughter may never change, what changed yesterday was my participation in their game. I do not have to go to every fight I am invited to. I've changed and I will continue to change, I am a work in progress and I do not do everything right. However, I crawl beneath no one, and owe no more apologies to this family. My amends are continued as I live and continue to grow and continue to learn from the errors of my ways, like any adult is meant to do. I hate the thought that my daughter is inevitably going to have to suffer through some of the most difficult times of her life, almost needlessly until she finds that she's lying to herself and that blame doesn't matter. Other people's behavior doesn't matter, as it is uncontrollable, that all she can control are her own actions and reactions to her choices and consequences. However what she finds along the way is part of her journey, not mine, and I refuse to be abused any longer.

I am NOT OK

I am not strong, so don't lean on me.

I am not smart, you don't want to hear what I think.

I am not sane, stay away! Why are you drawn to me?

Keeping up appearances is about the worst habit I could have picked up along the way. I have perfected the art of creating and presenting a false persona, one far different from what I am or how I feel under my skin. My insides do NOT match my outsides. Like an actor on a stage, I portray a likable and friendly, fun-loving, smart, strong, and well rounded individual. Internally I am antisocial, sad, angry, I spend a great deal of time in the clutches of an agonizing depression. It is like a bad neighborhood that you wouldn't want to be in alone. My gut tells me that these feelings have roots in living this lie which may not be unlike living a double life. A life and a lie which I don't believe I can continue to carry on. 

That is why I started this blog, and it is virtually unknown to people who think they really KNOW me. I want my fresh start on an empty canvas, a clean slate so to speak. I want to be me, without walls, with no aggressive defenses, and no bullshit. I want to make true friends based on who I am inside and that I am working to help myself heal from there, rather than continuously trying to put on a show. Such honesty would be sure to render me powerless over the cruel and calculated predator known as the human animal.

Trust does not come easy, as I feel as though I am vulnerable to exploitation if I am to allow an open view into who I really am. This may be why I am prone to abuse. I generally find the good in all people and become weakened as I listen to their sad, sorry, stories, I make convenient and well packaged excuses for everybody's shit-bag behavior. I put myself in danger by doing so and I continue to allow it and defend it and excuse it over and over and over until it hits a nerve. Then, being the extremist that I am, I turn to drop the motherfucker in the most vicious and dramatic reactionary style that any retaliatory attack could be. Unacceptable behavior needs to be nixed immediately, not tolerated until it reaches a breaking point.

Knowing this, one may presume, is instrumental in getting a handle on it... If only I knew how to view things for what they are as they are happening. I  sometimes feel that I am at an extreme just before I hit a wall and dramatically, I turn radically into the opposite extreme. So when dealing with people and the way I cling to the good and bypass the bad... In that exact moment of discovery, after extracting all possible inner goodness real or imaginary, the only alternative that my mind can see happens in the immediate and turns to complete suspicion and skepticism. Sniff out the conspiracy and go to any lengths to prove that there is one in play. 

I go through phases where I will pass this negative judgment upon any and all who I encounter. Therefor the slightest thing set's my neurosis of intolerance in motion. (As a post-conscious observation... especially relevant in the event of my own misunderstanding). If it defies logic, or neglects to make practical sense in my thought process, my tendency is to adamantly reject it, aborting all other protocols, casting it out as alien, and publicly voicing my displeasure. My sharp wit morphs to a razor tongue which aids in the personal dissection of  character. I'm on auto-pilot, spinning beyond my own control, while systematically, my cyclonic behavior constructs the soapbox that I stand upon while I emotionally execute my newly manufactured enemy.

What has seeded such extremes of passive and aggressive anger inside of me? Why do I continue to allow myself to become enraged when the slightest issue arises? Human beings aren't perfect, we ALL make mistakes, we ALL have issues around admitting we are making them, don't we? Why do I feel in the deepest point of my heart, that I have a purpose on this earth? When will it be revealed? Which way will I turn? Who am I supposed to help? I can't understand this fire and ice, bi-polar, good vs. evil, human oxymoron, love me or fucking kill me... chemical conundrum which drives me and tears me apart from the inside! 

Sometimes I think I can completely  accept all of this. In actuality, it is but a momentary thought that allows me to believe any of this it is within the limits of  my own comprehension. I am told to let it be as it is, but I cannot. At my core I'm a fixer, a problem solver, a puzzle finisher, and I won't stop until I've connected the dots. At this moment, I am in fear I may be losing my grip, I am shredded inside, the pain, it burns deep today, and I fear that I may be falling apart completely.

If I love you will you love me back?

I have spent my life trying to make the people in it happy. When I was 6 years old, I came home from school to find my father sobbing on his bed, I asked him what was the matter... He told me that he wanted to blow his fucking brains out. A co-dependent, caretaker was born. A year later I would find the rejection and disappointment that comes with seeking the approval of others, just too much to bear, and I made my first attempt at suicide. My MOTHER's response: "We don't talk about these things... Don't you dare bring shame to my family... What will people think? I won't be able to show my face in church if you don't start acting right... What's wrong with you? People are going to think you're a crazy person". 

Sometime around 9 years old I discovered the art of cutting. Come to think of it, this may ave started with picking Mosquito bites, I remember those being problematic when I was young. I cut my thighs, my arms, my stomach, my hands, even my face I carved words into my arms and the words "fat bitch" into my belly, backwards so that when I looked in the mirror I could read it. In the beginning, it was simply because physical pain felt better than emotional pain. Toward the end, I was doing it because I hated myself and I "deserved" the pain. Around 11 or 12 I had sex, with a boy my age, it didn't do anything for me, it would be years before that was done properly and became an unhealthy addiction of it's own. Home made and underground tattoos took the place of cutting temporarily, while Cocaine on the other hand, provided me with EXACTLY the relief I was seeking. One small line and within an instant I saw pure anarchy, and felt my body release the pressure of fear, doubt, shame, insecurity, and rage as fast as an untied balloon being let go. I loved it, I sensed mayhem, I sensed evil, I sensed depravity, and I was overcome by the need to chase it all. Side effects of my regular use of stimulants were: increased focus, weight loss, decreased appetite, loss of moral or spiritual values, increased interest in crime, mood swings, increased irritability, emotional instability, propensity for violence, increased rage, decreased artistic creativity, developed a mastery in the skill of manipulation and the art of lying. Now my parents would not trust me, they would not speak to me, they would not want me to be a part of their lives at all. I felt rejected by my own family, misunderstood, and cast out. 

All of my choices were unhealthy, and stemmed from the original Daddy issues... I needed to prove myself to men, I needed approval, I needed validation. I did EVERYTHING I could to feel appreciated, loved, complimented. I believed all I had to do was love. If I loved my Dad, he wouldn't blow his brains out. I've been in ALL of my former relationships thinking, "if I just love him right he won't drink so much" or "if I can prove how much I love him, he won't be so angry" or "if I love him the way he needs to be loved, he won't hit me" or "if I love him enough, he'll never cheat on me"... Yet my track record will show, I've been cheated on, beaten on, screamed at, and I've carried the drunk into the house at night. So for the sake of my own mental and or emotional health, I needed to change my behavior around men.

I'm not a victim of anyone else's behavior. My own poor choices have been the catalyst behind the pain, chaos, and drama in my life. I've been a willing participant in my sordid past with relationships. hat is the pattern I need to break for myself. It appears that I am attracted to the wounded ones... never the actual needy ones, but the scared and defensive, and often dangerous ones. Even today, while working on real recovery, I am able to see that I STILL make these foolish choices. I am now realizing that my own father will never give me an ounce of what I thought I needed from him. I recently stopped chasing him for approval, I stopped seeking validation. I turned and faced him, at almost 40 yrs old, and I demanded his respect. He froze, he laughed, he agreed and I was given validation, I felt empowered and emancipated at the same time. 

Perhaps few people identify with this as described. Far fewer, I bet can capture the elation of emotional growth.

Emotional Paralysis

Isolation: Trapped inside of my own mind, terrified of the light, of the dark, of the outdoors, of death, of people, of expectations, of rejection, of the air, of the water, of reality, of the sun, of the rain, of the truth. Like being imprisoned in a room, bound to a chair, embedded in concrete, looking for my purpose, looking for one good reason not to blow my fucking brains out. It doesn't matter though because my arms are too heavy to raise a gun and my fingers too frozen to pull any trigger.

Trusting no one, as they all have selfish motives. Not wanting to be hurt means no longer making an attempt to be friendly. The last one to do it hurt the most, and it was my own fault for giving another person power in my life. I would never fuck with another human being's feelings, emotions, or life the way people have done to me, I do not wish to be a victim or a martyr, I am so confused and so broken. I cannot comprehend cruelty I do not wish to do so, I struggle with society and the way it tells me I should be. I will never be that person, that woman, that wife, that daughter, that mother. I hurt. My soul is empty, I have no faith, I try to let go, I try to let it in, I cry out for help, for relief, for love. I come up empty.

Mommy and Daddy Issues... Ya Think?

Inside my mind is a bad neighborhood... I really shouldn't be here alone!"

When I am all alone with myself, the quiet is too much to bear. I am physically paralyzed by emotional pain...To own my part seems foolish, as I did not ask for this life and the fucked up childhood which I did not have a choice in living. Apologizes don't remove scars. Living amends work well for me and those I hurt who are interested in actually being connected to my life somehow. My mother hasn't ever been interested in me, what I wanted to be, or what I strive to do. She rejects me, refuses to see me, and when I show up, never misses an opportunity to point out just what kind of piece of shit I am, or how my status in scumbag-ville has so appropriately manifested in my child, who is nearly an adult, and a very positive specimen at that. 

After 17 years of chaos, filled with calculated emotional and physical abuse, my ex-military one time psychologist father, removed himself from my life, and has made very seldom a cameo appearance since. The only contact I have had with him in the past 22 years, I have initiated. Only one conversation has ended with a positive feeling, it was the most recent, and the odds of it happening again are so slim, it may very well have been our last one ever.

Repeatedly, I have tried to be a part of my family. Like touching a hot stove, burned my hand, and beat myself up about it. Time went by, I thought I was to blame and that it was going to be different, because of the work I have done on myself, I gave it another shot, and OUCH! That fucking stove STILL burns, go figure. Most recently, I have made a conscious decision to make no effort toward first contact with either of them, and of course there has been no attempt from either side to have any contact with me. I say that I do not hold any ill will or resentment... This is true as long as I am busy, working, going to the gym, attending meetings, out with friends, listening to loud music, spending time with my daughter, but the pain is there behind all of these band aids that I use to masque it.

The cut is too big for band aids now. It's torn up and the surface isn't sturdy enough for stitches. My hurt feelings and sadness used to only worsen during times when society calls for togetherness of "family", and holiday cheer. The word FAMILY is a hot button, which sends me off the deep end at times. It's safe to say that the pain is now constant and debilitating. I believe it is cutting off my circulation, I cannot breathe, it's stunting my growth. I can't act out in my old childish ways, as I would be incarcerated or hospitalized indefinitely. Medication is not an option for me, as I don't believe chemicals are an appropriate treatment of the root issue, but the outer symptoms... let's start with one chemical then add another, then add one more, then something for the side effects of the first, now the second and so on... defying all logic.

SO I write...

To both of you:

My poor choices were made after yours, yet mine have always been the ones criticized. What did we do about our precious child trying to slit her own throat at age 7? I know what we did, we suppressed it, after all what would the neighbors think? I have come to accept that once things happen in life, they cannot UN-happen. In my quest for validation, love, affection, nurturing, and emotional stability; I've sought temporary relief in sex, older men, older women, crime, drugs, and when I still wasn't satisfied, dominance, power, and violence. My relationships have been no healthier than the one that brought me into this world, and I recognize today that nothing else in my life can improve until I have successfully released this pain from my heart.

To my mother:

Keeping up appearances was your facade manufactured to keep people from getting close enough to see the sickness inside of you. In a sense I was raised in a lie and forced to lie. Feelings, affection, comfort, were dismissed, discounted, and disallowed. Love and respect were purchased. Trust was a foreign commodity, traded for leverage on the most believable fable. You are cold and calculated, and as you have aged, it has become more clear. When I was a child there was one parent that saw through you, as a teen, a second parent and a third, as an adult I notice that your friends have disappeared, you have just one left, and she will inevitably see through your veil of deceit. You had them all snowed for so long, as if you were some sort of "Mother Theresa", high regarded in your clique of church folk who had no reason to suspect that any kind of evil would lurk in their sacred house of worship. 

You are 71 years old, headed in the direction of dying alone, and I don't feel bad, not one iota. Fuck you, for continuing to treat me like I am lower than buried dog shit. I've fantasized about hanging myself at (Your Church)'s altar with a giant sign that reads simply, "(Your Name)'s Daughter", if only the video that plays in my head playing all the fucked up things you say and do could project out to ensure that you wouldn't be seen as a martyr. When I needed a mother, you needed to perform for your audience. The older I got the less fun it was, the promises of fame and fortune were as empty as my soul was becoming. I knew nothing of life, of being a woman, of sex, of my body. I sought your approval through all means possible. The more desperate I became, the less you had to do with me. You have been ashamed of my existence since I was able to form a thought that was different from yours. 

To this day you are uncomfortable when I begin to speak in your presence. If you admitted that you've ever had ANY single human struggle whatsoever, I would recoil from such an emotionally angry, and aggressive posture and I would embrace you in MY arms, as you are my mom and I am biologically wired to love you. Even though you have consistently used my need for your love as a way to crush my exposed, unguarded, heart. When I had cancer, you wouldn't even drive me to my surgery, I was in prison, you wouldn't take my calls, rehab, still nothing. Again, fuck you, you sick fucking depraved sociopath. If I outlive you, I will drop trow and shit on your headstone!

To my father:

My role in your family remains undefined, says the grown up forgotten child.

When I needed a Daddy, you needed to chase pussy. You finally divorced from my mother after dragging me around from situation to situation cheating on her for 18 years. Promising me a happy life and a loving family. You never bothered to look at the lifetime of destruction you left in your wake. Your abusive and explosive temper left it's devastation in the form of physical and emotional scars, your cruel and horrific words cut far deeper than that. I was selfish and self centered at 6? Really? You bastard, you knowingly placed blame on me and robbed me of my childhood by insisting that I grow up and accept the fact that I was never going to amount to anything. I sat at your bedside while you threatened to blow your brains out, I cried myself to sleep at night afraid that you actually would. You turned me against my mother who was equally crazy, insured me that you were going to take me somewhere that life would be better for both of us. At 7, you fucking abandoned me with family I never knew and haven't seen since. Then at 17 you fucking bailed on me completely. You left me behind. I was very sick, having surgery in the hospital when you packed all of your shit and the day I got out, you left. You fucking COWARD. 9 months without a call, no forwarding address, not a birthday or a Christmas card. 20 years later, and you've contacted me ONE TIME. Let's not forget about the 17 years of abuse, the holes in my bedroom walls and the scars on my face. Don't worry, the school nurse knows I just fell, but Daddy, why are you mad at me? You never came to see me in jail, rehab, or any hospital, you never took my calls begging for your help. You have never visited, you have never invited me to spend time with you. You and your ex wife both act like once the magic number 18 is achieved, your child is no longer existent. Fuck you. 

Not only did you make a million promises you did not keep, you left me DAD, you walked out the door and found yourself a pre-fab-family, then you forgot all about me and made them your 2nd chance! Those kids grew up loving the fact that they have 2 fathers, and now an extra grandfather to their kids. Do you ever wonder how your biological daughter feels about not having a father at all, or your biological grand daughter wondering why she has a grandfather, but he never talks to her or sees her or sends her cards on her birthday? FUCK YOU. I often wonder how my life would have been had you died from taking my penicillin instead of your percocet on the plane that day... what a convenient oversight it was for you to be having an allergic reaction in the hospital while I was running the streets of Oakland at 15. I've always had a knack for finding ways to have my kinda fun.

I made my amends and you claimed that you too had made some changes and found your own program and way of life, funny how nothing has changed for you and I, but what a great man you are today. When holidays come, use your fucking head... I don't want your fucking photographs of your family and your happy life. I don't want to hear about the wonderful family vacations you've taken with my grandmother, aunts, uncles, or cousins. I don't want to know about how much better a Dadda you are to someone else's kids, or "grand kids"... You have ONE grand daughter, you piece of shit, you didn't even bother to acknowledge her when planning for your mother's 80th birthday celebration. YOU sure as fuck don't want to hear how I struggle every day of my life with the strength to not put a bullet in my own fucking head. Yeah Daddy, just like you did when I was a little girl, I sit in the dark on the edge of my bed contemplating suicide. Thanks for the inheritance, shove it up your fucking ass. I should blow my brains out all over your dining room during your beautiful loving family's Christmas dinner!