My father (continued)
At this point, Oregon State was far enough away. I did not come home for any vacations. Any holidays. Instead, I spent them all in Eugene, with Dan. The last day of college at the OSU freshman year, my father came and picked me up and drove me and my belongings to Eugene, where I moved into a house with Dan, his cousin Nels, his brother Ted, and my best friend from high school, Jason. I never went home at this point either and the only reason I let my father see me at all was because I needed the ride.
This continued my existence. I would see my sisters occasionally, Monique and Gaby, but I avoided Myrtle Creek, and my other family. Well, eventually, I started coming home. Mostly to see girls that went to school with my stepsister. And then, well, depression, reared it's ugly head. I was completely bipolar at this time, not wholly aware what it was, but I knew. I mean, the music I chose was manic and depressing, but it spoke to me. Oh my god, I can't even begin to explain the music and how many times it saved me.
I began to develop a friendship with my father in my mid 20s as well. Not sure how it happened. My stepmother would leave for a couple of months at a time and I would go spend it with my father. Alone in a giant house. My own little way to get away from everything.
It wasn't until 1994 though, when my sickness, got the best of me. I had a complete mental breakdown. I was actually living in Portland with Juliana at the time, this is when the other part of me was born, the further development of Vico. I was a late bloomer. But my life just stopped. I had to be medicated so ridiculously just so I could survive day to day living. This is when the full diagnosis, BIPOLAR, was officially given to me. This is when my father, finally understood me. Before, I think he truly believed me to be overly dramatic, which I admit, I am a drama queen, but there are moments when even my own body chemistry overwhelms me and this drama is not something that I have any control over. He read about it and so much of my life, what he had observed in me over so many years, finally made sense. So, yes. It took a complete meltdown on my part for my father to understand me and with that came acceptance, something I never thought mattered until I received it. Something I had run away from since I was 10 had finally caught up with me two decades later.
This continued my existence. I would see my sisters occasionally, Monique and Gaby, but I avoided Myrtle Creek, and my other family. Well, eventually, I started coming home. Mostly to see girls that went to school with my stepsister. And then, well, depression, reared it's ugly head. I was completely bipolar at this time, not wholly aware what it was, but I knew. I mean, the music I chose was manic and depressing, but it spoke to me. Oh my god, I can't even begin to explain the music and how many times it saved me.
I began to develop a friendship with my father in my mid 20s as well. Not sure how it happened. My stepmother would leave for a couple of months at a time and I would go spend it with my father. Alone in a giant house. My own little way to get away from everything.
It wasn't until 1994 though, when my sickness, got the best of me. I had a complete mental breakdown. I was actually living in Portland with Juliana at the time, this is when the other part of me was born, the further development of Vico. I was a late bloomer. But my life just stopped. I had to be medicated so ridiculously just so I could survive day to day living. This is when the full diagnosis, BIPOLAR, was officially given to me. This is when my father, finally understood me. Before, I think he truly believed me to be overly dramatic, which I admit, I am a drama queen, but there are moments when even my own body chemistry overwhelms me and this drama is not something that I have any control over. He read about it and so much of my life, what he had observed in me over so many years, finally made sense. So, yes. It took a complete meltdown on my part for my father to understand me and with that came acceptance, something I never thought mattered until I received it. Something I had run away from since I was 10 had finally caught up with me two decades later.