Wild Turkeys
I might as well write about my father as long as I’m on a roll of reliving my childhood and triggering myself with unhappy memories. I wish I could write about something positive and uplifting, but I might might have to wade through a lifetime of negativity before I can reach those parts of me. I think once I work my way backwards through an awkward life I might do a better job at being able to move forward.
I remember my father as an alcoholic who passed out on the couch in front of the TV and did little more than make people misrable. I don’t even understand myself why the man filled me with such angst and hatred. He didn’t yell or beat us, but being in his presence made us all feel unworthy and devalued. He was narcissistic and controlling, and he used his authority as a father to manipulate us and not love us. The toxicity he created made me fear leaving my room to even go to the restroom or visit the fridge. My mother used to sit outside in her car and drive in circles just waiting for him to fall asleep so she could come home. He was angry and bitter, and we were constantly being punished for every perceived slight. We weren’t deserving of love and support or privacy; we needed to be taught a lesson.
To add to the disorders running through my family tree, he also had an obsessive compulsive hoarding disorder. He visited garage sales frequently and collected garbage like it was treasure. Junk filled every room of the house and the school kids used to refer to us as Sanford and Son. There were heaps of boxes from floor to ceiling full of old jars and pots and pans and discarded shoes. Entire rooms and garages were dedicated to junk, and it lined the hallways and tables from the floor to the ceiling. My mother used to smuggle out boxes to the trash in revenge, but my father was so obsessed with it all he’d notice if it had been touched. It spilled out into his truck and the yard. We were embarrassed, and the neighbors complained. I would not dare invite people over to my house. My father loved his porn and his horde more than his family, and I often feel that we were just a nuisance keeping him from his true interests: Junk, porn, and prostitutes.
He eventually died from heart complications at a very young age, but we all know he drank himself to death. He managed to do it on my birthday of all days, and if I thought about it I wouldn’t doubt he did it on purpose; but I don’t think about it. Another bizarre reaction from me, but I didn’t cry. His passing was a giant weight lifted off my shoulders and a big relief. Afterwards I was haunted by dreams that he was still alive and bothering me, and I’d awake full of anxiety and very thankful that it was just a dream and I didn’t have to deal with it anymore. I wonder if that makes me cold and heartless?
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8 Responses to “Wild Turkeys”
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A toxic environment created by the emotional abuse of “father”,feeling like he’s trying to punish and correct you for every mistake…I can relate to this so well. My father wasn’t alcoholic but to this day I swear he had more mental health issues than my schizophrenic mother.
Take care my friend, and always know one thing: You are not your father, you will never be like him.
Shiv,
Thanks for your comment and sharing. I think my father had issues beyond alcholism, but even if he didn’t, it resembeled mental health issues in everyway. I’m sorry that you can relate to my family life. I spent a long time in a relationship with someone with a severe mental illness so I imagine its even harder getting through it as a child. Thanks for reminding me I’m not like my family was. =)
You are not cold hearted. you are human. my father also died of alcoholism…i was four when he died. so i never really got to know him. i am just so sorry you had to endure that in your childhood. it leaves lasting scars.
Thanks, merelyme! I’ll come to terms with it eventually. I’m sorry about your father, too.
once upon a time somewhere around 1987 i was diagnosed as sadomasochistic with dissociative tendencies… i never went back to the doctor.. years later,, i went back for the drugs,, but they ended up making me suicidal,, so i quit taking them,, and to date i have never been back…
for years i was a drug addict,, you name it i used it, although i would have to say the highlight of my career was the eight years i spent as a crackhead whore…
i got “clean” in 1995 and have been out of the life since then..
nothing in this world they call straight has ever caught my interest until i began to blog..
i too pour the vomitus colors of my life out on the pages of my blog with abandon.. for me, it works…
i am hoping it works for you too…
in the interim,, i will entertain the voyeuristic qualities of my disorder and enjoy living your pain vicariously thru you…
i just read the last four posts,, and i am wondering,, this take on life that you came away from your loving family with,, what decisions has it caused you to make that you are willing to own??
paisly,
I think thereapy would be helpful to me, so I do plan to go back someday when I can devote the time and money. The truth is I need it to work of some of my problems if thats possible.
Thanks for sharing your story. I can relate to it in many ways. I dabbled in with drugs most of my life, and even picked up a hard drug several years ago and battled with it for over a year or so. I probably lost a lot of money and some brain cells along the way, but in the end I grew out of it. Once I recognized my reasons for doing them, and removing myself from those situations, walking away from drugs was actually a piece of cake for me. I’ve been clean for about two years now and it hasn’t been a struggle.
Its only recently that I’ve gained the ability to have any insight or introspection or own to the details of my life. Its probably a long list, but I am to the point I can own up to any of my behaviors that I can recognize. There was drug dabbling and problems with the law, but minor ones. I’ve disowned my family and most of society. For most of my life I couldn’t keep a job for more than a week or two, though thats changed. I will be sure to make some blog posts about my own issues that I struggle with.
Strange that you brought up Sadomasochism, because thats an issue thats been buried deep in me that only came to light in the past few years. Masochism might factor into my life somewhere, but its only come to light recently and I haven’t had a chance to explore it fully. Mostly I avoid the issue because honestly it creeps my out very much that a part of me enjoys being abused, because on an emotional level being abused and unloved doesn’t feel good at all. Thats a complicated story, though. I could probably write a book about my bad decisions.
i only just happened to stumble upon your blog by accident today..i found it by typing in ‘wellbutrin side effects’..figure that out..but sometimes our Higher Power puts things in front of us to find..
anyway..i can relate to every word you have typed thus far..only it was my mother that was the alcoholic and resident miserable person in our family..my father, bless his heart, never drank or smoked a day in his life..he always said, “she does enuff for both of us’..i was physically, mentally and emotionally abused by this woman..who adopted me…i was supposedly ‘chosen’ so that made me ’special’..and i should be grateful to have parents when my own didnt want me..so i thought i was supposed to be beaten and belittled..i was told i was stupid before i was ever told ‘i love u’ or ‘i’m so proud of u’..things i say to my 11 yr old son on a daily basis..i will say one thing for my mother..she taught me how to be a good mom..i just remember what she did to me..and i do the exact opposite~! with miraculous results..i wet the bed till i was 8..my son was potty trained in three days..no picutre was ever taken of me in my childhood smiling..in every pic since my son was 6 wks old hes smiling..my son knows hes loved..i did not..but now..i gotta look forward..not backward..and realize that my mother was sick and still is sick..i too was an accict in active addiction for over 20yrs..i turned 40yesterday..and it only feels like my life is starting now..but thats ok too..cuz i’m doing it sober..all the best to u and God bless trace
Those are strange keywords, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned those words on my blog, but whatever got you here is fine by me!
It’s better to start your life late than never. I beat my addiction, and its something to be very proud of. We don’t need out parents to be proud of us if we can manage to be proud of ourselves. I don’t have any kids myself, but I always thought I would make a decent parent for exactly the same reason. I know exactly what not to do! I don’t see how you can go wrong with that. Good luck to you too, and Happy Belated Birthday!