The First Time I Went Crazy. Pt3

My parents and I have always fought and it’s a 50/50 divide on who is responsible (I am a little shit). At the time, I remember every fight was focused on me and therapy and how I was crazy. That was thrown in my face a lot by Daddy Dearest. It seems like I didn’t go by two days without hearing that $80 a week was spent on me for therapy (which I believe cut into his beer/bowling/golf allowance). I was crazy at the time and accept full responsibility for all the fights I started and the evil things I said.

It was like a verbal fighting war zone here. I let nothing go by un-argued. Many many hurtful things were said by all of those involved and it was like hell around here. I have since apologized for my behavior, especially to my sisters when I was in therapy. I just saw it as I was being shit on by those bigger than me so I, in turn, would take everything out on those younger than me. I was mean, really mean, and they, especially sister 1, she holds it against me still (which is why we do not a have a relationship).

Since I was not patient with how long therapy was taking, I volunteered my own theory for why I was depressed/ anxious/ down on myself. When we were little kids, Daddy Dearest’s dad, my g-pa, babysat us one night. We were little and wanted to play with the neighbor kids; he wouldn’t let us so my sisters and I, being very angry and not understanding at all why he would deny us our right to play outside, wished him dead. All three of us; we were in grade school at the time and were just learning how words could hurt.

He didn’t know we wished him dead and until therapy no one else knew. The point is, that night he came into my room and asked me to come sit out in the living room with him, he was having chest pains, I refused. The next day he died. For years, until therapy, I was convinced it was my fault, and maybe in some karma got ya way it was. Its funny because sisters 1 & 2 and I never talked about it until maybe two years ago – long after I told my parents about it in therapy.

Me: “Hey, remember that time g-pa wouldn’t let us go outside and play so then we wished him de-“

Sister2: “-and he died!”

Me: “-ad?”

I was convinced that the guilt from that is why I went crazy and was depressed. I realize now that it wasn’t. Every continuing week of therapy the bitching by Daddy Dearest would continue. I still had my teenage attitude and he didn’t see how his $80 a week was paying off. He would even use things said in therapy against me, you know the whole killing g-pa thing. I ended it. I talked myself into thinking I was better, but I realize now all I was doing was avoiding figuring out what my fucking deal was/is. Since then I have been the master of distraction; well, until now that is.

So, here I am back at the beginning feeling the same way and in no better shape than I was then. It is my fault really - I tricked/distracted myself long enough.