Background: who the fuck am I?

If you’ve stumbled across my journals you might wonder who am I? I’m choosing to remain nameless because I need a place to release my feelings in a healthy way. Sure I could be a moron and post my feelings on Facebook, but that’s not too smart. 

I’m currently 20 and living in Arizona. Things were fine until I hit 13. Until I hit 13, I had a great life. I grew up in Michigan with my mom and dad, and I was an only child. I always knew my dad was cranky, and grumpy, but I brushed it off as him being an adult and working. 

When I was 8, my dad moved my mom and I out to Arizona. The earliest time I remember thinking that my dad wasn’t right in the head was when he locked himself in a closet, and threatened to kill himself. My mom called the cops and I remember cops surrounding my house. My neighbors were actually evacuated for their safety. I had to spend the night at my neighbors house who was also a classmate. My dad finally came out of the house and was taken to jail for threatening the cops with a gun. That morning, I remember my classmates at school telling me how “because of my crazy dad” he couldn’t sleep that night and how he wished I never moved in because my dad was “a nut case” 

My dad Continued his crazy behavior, and a few days before his death he started saying crazy things. I remember it was a normal day, he was eating a sandwich on the couch and turned to look at my mom and I. He said “I know how I’m going to die. I’m going to commit suicide in the desert and no one will know where I am. I’ll be missing for days and they won’t find me until later.” he smiled and Continued eating. 

That’s how it happened. My mom and dad got into a heated argument. At this point, 13,i knew my parents didn’t love each other. They didn’t sleep in the same room. My dad took all his pills (he had bad arthritis) and took off in his truck. I remember getting the call.. And it will always haunt me. 

“I’m killing myself. I hope you get yourself straightened out. Have a nice life! Bye!” 

My dad was missing for 3 days. And each of those 3 days I went to 8th grade, attended my classes and tried to be okay. I remember every day after class I would call my dad’s cell phone, praying he was still alive. 

On the 3rd day, there was a knock at the door. It was the cops. I remember how nonchalant they were about the whole thing. So expressionless. No emotion. They took my mom outside and told him they had found my dad dead in the desert from an overdose. I really regret reading the police report when I was 13,it said my dad was decaying and being eaten by bugs. I still can’t get that image out of my head. 

Now this is where it turns bad. If I still lived in the town where the police were, I would honestly press charges. I’m 20 now and this happened when I was 13. I was still in elementary school. Police need better training to handle crisis situations and here’s why. 

I was in shock. I remember saying “no, no no” over and over. I didn’t know how to handle things. 

I ran outside and asked my mom for permission to go to my friends house who lived down the street. I needed comfort. 

The police didn’t know that. They just saw me running at full speed down the street. A police officer hopped in his car and started following me. I called my friend (I’ll call her Lydia. Real names will not be used because i want to be anonymous.) and told her to meet me at our school. It was by both of our houses. 

I saw Lydia at the school, and as soon as we met up the police car stopped as well. A police man and woman rushed up to me and hand cuffed me. I was freaking out. My dad had commited suicide and I didn’t do anything wrong. Why am I handcuffed? I started screaming at them to let me go and Lydia was shaken up as well. They told me it was for my own safety and as a precaution.  I kept struggling and they said if i didn’t stop they would take me to Juvie. (being 13 that scares you.) this all happened in front of my school. Cars were passing by looking at me. 

The police woman hopped in the car and the police man walked me back home in handcuffs. (we were only a street away from my house.)

I remember how scared Lydia looked. Lydia knew my dad well. She was always at my house. She saw that I was handcuffed for no reason and was as confused as I was. 

When I got back to the house, I remember seeing how many people had flooded my house. Police, a therapist and fire men. I went with Lydia into my room and shut the door. Not 5 minutes later police men were banging on the door ordering me to open it. 

I exited the room and they told my mom that they were taking me to a hospital aka a children’s pysch ward to go to hold me for my protection. My mom refused and told them she just wanted me to stay with her. We’d had enough bad words. They refused. I remember my mom was clutching me,  refusing to let me go. The fire men had to pull us apart. 

I was taken to pysch ward and held there for 2 days. My mom ended up doing an AMA (against medical advice) on the third day because my 8th grade graduation was the next day. This all happened just a few days before school was out. 

I remember the last day of 8th grade. I remember walking in. No one had seen me for 2 days and of course they heard how my crazy dad killed himself. 

When I walked in,  everyone was quiet. They all stared at me. I remember feeling the need to speak. I said “my dad died.” a girl who never liked me snapped back “yeah we kind of know he killed himself. Saw that coming.”

I felt like the kids didn’t understand. I was feeling so alone. So empty. And when they called my name to give me my diploma, my mom clapped and so did Lydia and her family but no one else did. 

My mom decided to move me to another city in Arizona after school was out. I’ve never told the story in full detail of my dad’s suicide and the mess that came with it. 

It’s embarrassing to say, but i know I have many issues because of my dad’s suicide. He was bipolar and after he died psychiatrists put me on 8 meds over the years. When I was 18 I quit all the meds. My mom wasn’t happy but that was my first legal right I chose.  Being on pysch meds only made me feel like a zombie. 

I may not be on meds anymore, but I live with constant anxiety. Anbdnaonment issues. I’m extremely depressed. I have major depressive disorder and bipolar 2. Bipolar 2 is when you don’t have the manic Highs, only extreme lows and irratibility. 

I have daddy issues. It’s embarrassing.  I’ve been single for 2 years. I’m trying to work on myself. I hope one day I will find a man who won’t judge me for having a dad who killed himself. Being labeled as the girl who’s dad killed himself, or the girl with daddy issues is honestly a shitty feeling. 

But here I am. This is my life. I can only grow. 

2 thoughts on “Background: who the fuck am I?”

  1. My 11 year old daughter was recently diagnosed with major depressive disorder (w/ psychotic features). I still have a lot to learn the disorder so that I can better understand what she is going through.

    I am sorry for your struggle. I wish more people had showed you kindness and support. Hopefully you can heal from all this.

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