I hurt...
...and not just from the toothache.
At the age of 6 was the first time I ever wanted to kill myself. Don't even recall what I did but I was sent to my room for a "spanking like no other" in the early afternoon.
Waited for hours, lamenting on the whys and wherefores, eventually concluding the problem was me. Something was wrong with me and that is why I needed to be punished so often.
My parents are good people and were trying their best. It had to be my fault.
Problem was at 6 years old I had no idea how to kill myself, so I spent hours praying for God to take me back.
Roundabout dinner time Dad came to get me, he'd apparently forgotten what he had said earlier and why I'd been in my room all day.
Which really only made me feel worse about myself.
Couple things. I wasn't abused, spanking was considered a normal punishment in the 1970s. It wasn't seen as child abuse until the late 1980s to early 1990s.
Not being taken back by God taught me early on that just because one is suicidal if one doesn't die they eventually will feel better.
I've had a number of similar "episodes" over the years, most having nothing to do with Dad, sticking around as I knew eventually I'd feel better.
Dad is lock solid, he is a very rational man but it is like his head is in a box. He cannot see things in much of anyway other than his way.
I am crazy, self-diagnosed. I can't think like he does, though I suspect my life would be much better were I able to do so.
But most of our conversations are repetitive and triggering. Especially the last few years. I feel terrible after each time we talk, and get that feeling the world would be better, my family would be better if I had never been born.
Do not want to react this way from talking to him. He's my Dad, I love him.
Father's Day was today. Called him, tried to keep it short but that didn't work. Longer it went on I felt oceans of tears wanting to pour from my eyes.
I'm still here but one of these days...
At the age of 6 was the first time I ever wanted to kill myself. Don't even recall what I did but I was sent to my room for a "spanking like no other" in the early afternoon.
Waited for hours, lamenting on the whys and wherefores, eventually concluding the problem was me. Something was wrong with me and that is why I needed to be punished so often.
My parents are good people and were trying their best. It had to be my fault.
Problem was at 6 years old I had no idea how to kill myself, so I spent hours praying for God to take me back.
Roundabout dinner time Dad came to get me, he'd apparently forgotten what he had said earlier and why I'd been in my room all day.
Which really only made me feel worse about myself.
Couple things. I wasn't abused, spanking was considered a normal punishment in the 1970s. It wasn't seen as child abuse until the late 1980s to early 1990s.
Not being taken back by God taught me early on that just because one is suicidal if one doesn't die they eventually will feel better.
I've had a number of similar "episodes" over the years, most having nothing to do with Dad, sticking around as I knew eventually I'd feel better.
Dad is lock solid, he is a very rational man but it is like his head is in a box. He cannot see things in much of anyway other than his way.
I am crazy, self-diagnosed. I can't think like he does, though I suspect my life would be much better were I able to do so.
But most of our conversations are repetitive and triggering. Especially the last few years. I feel terrible after each time we talk, and get that feeling the world would be better, my family would be better if I had never been born.
Do not want to react this way from talking to him. He's my Dad, I love him.
Father's Day was today. Called him, tried to keep it short but that didn't work. Longer it went on I felt oceans of tears wanting to pour from my eyes.
I'm still here but one of these days...