"I remember having a normal life until I was six-seven, when I witnessed my mother's complete mental breakdown in Virginia while we were visiting my Aunt Betty Ruth. When we returned to my Father, who hadn't gone with us, things were never the same with my parents, my Dad couldn't understand my Mom and being from a turbulent, abusive childhood and suffering from PTSD from the Korean War, he lost it one night and threw my Mother down and held her while she screamed as well as us kids did. He threw her out of the house physically. I still dont' know the details of what happened, but maybe that's better. After that, Dad moved out, but Mom couldn't handle taking care of us kids, so she left and Dad moved back in, he was about as ready as she for raising three kids on his own. My sister and I functioned fairly well, but my brother went to pieces, he was a mama's boy to the hilt and blamed Dad. That in turn brought out the worst in Dad and they fought all the time physically, I remember Dad hitting my brother in the face with a towel made into a whip, my brother ran and slipped and went through the large front door glass window. A search ensued for him and he was brought home, only minimally cut, but he and my Dad just looked at each other and went to their separate rooms and that's when I knew something was really wrong. I often wondered why I saw my mom only now and then, but remembered her breakdown and thought she had a "health" problem. My brother started lying, stealing, and attacking my sister, whom I had to physically defend on more than once occasion, that's when my Dad shipped my brother to a "hospital", where he became worse and then floated to various members of my Mom's family before dissapearing years ago.
'73 to '79 was the happiest time for me, my sister, Dad, and I, although my sister cooked and cleaned the house, Dad worked, and I was the typical kid. My sister married and moved out, then my happiness came to a crashing halt in '79 when my Dad remarried. My stepmother had been raped and spent timein a "hospital", I was already suffering socially from being in a close knit Lutheran Parochial School and all of a sudden thrust into Junior High School, I was about as ready for a stern stepmother as she was for a messed up stepson, especially when her child, a grown son, never got into trouble or "never said the wrong thing". We argued, she started calling my friends, my school counselors, people I tried to work for, telling them how bad I treated her, I got even angier, we'd exchange the words, which fueled her telephone calls, which made me more angry. I just stopped talking, just came home, ate my dinner, and went to my room without saying a word, especially when my stepbrother moved in and everyday I saw that glaring look of go ahead, say something, I'll pounce on you. Dad coudlnt' do a thing, he was helpless and withdrew himself because of his own demons.
I was the social misfit in those junior high and high school days, feeling that the only way to get attention was to deliberately act depressed, when I was genuinely depressed, which made it worse, people were sympathetic, then avoided me like the plague. I then tried to kill myself three times my senior year in high school, the last one, almost fatal, just three weeks before my high school graduation. I recovered, and managed to find a high school club which helped kids with the transition to college, I jumped at it and left home right after graduation, not knowing how to drive a car, write a check, even function socially. The first two years in college were hell, I couldn't even look up at people, I just stared at the ground and the other guys and girls tried to help, but I was in a place too far down and they gave up and took on that same, avoid Bill, approach. I can't blame them. I left college and found a small apt. where I went into a major depression, holed myself up for over a year, couldn't hold down a job, lost my electricity, the food in my cupboards, finding out the scary part of going hungry is not that gnawing feeling of hunger that kept me awake at night, but when my stomach bloated and I no longer felt hungry at all. My elderly landlords who were good farm couple were the only ones who kept me from being in the streets.
On a college campus walk, I met two women who became good friends, they were sympathetic, but very firm, and I learned how to drive, balance a checkbook, and hold down a job. That's when I started coming to terms with two things, my manic depression and the horrible mood swings and destructive behavior, I've broken dishes, windows, vases, torn my clothes, hit myself physically because I hated myself and broke mirrors because I hated who was in the reflection, thank god that behavior hasn't happened since I found therapy and the internet support here and realizing I was only hurting myself. I marvel at how I've been able to manage with only lighter meds (Celexa, Xanax generic) and not lithium, especially with my family situation, just no contact from anyone, with the exception of the once in a while phone call from my Mom and she's scared to death something's happend to me (her paranoia), My Dad has his own battles with the past and present and we talk, but it's up to me to make the contact, he's trying, but it's battle for him, my brother's gone, and my sister I can't explain, I think she deals with the past by burying it and me along with it, but I know, that's judging, let's just say no contact, how's that. It's a hole in my life that i live with everyday and just survive by being thankful they're alive and kicking and I have the relationship with my Dad and Mom that's there, and through meds, therapy, and my internet support from you all, and trying hard to enjoy life in the way of nature, music, pets, movies, writing, etc. thanks for listening."
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