How many of you would expect your family to gather you up and protect you after a major Mental Health episode?
Mine? Left me to see if I would Live or Die – when I lived, I was rewarded with being disowned – just not told why.
Being made homeless by my parent the first time, under the excuse my sisters house caught fire, which quite a shock.
The abuse, violence and continued attempts to hurt and kill me that then followed, well, I used to be proud I made it.
Yet, when I followed up on the agreement I made with my mother when my Marmite died was mother saying, having not seen me for four years “your not allowed to turn up at our house”. Managed to go even further down hill!
Not one positive thing was said to me by either parents. Nor any explanation why they left me a five year target of Hate that ended up with me being assaulted in my local park.
To an outsider, it would appear that I had done something more horrific than a Serial Killer, as their mother still visits.
My mother? Well, it did take two days to notice – every single photo of me had been removed from their house. However, it was the fact that they replaced the very expensive TV I bought them – for my old man to put his wallet before his pride? confirmation of the Hate he has shown me my whole life.
The first afternoon I was there, I went out to help him in the garden. What was the very first thing he did?
Threaten me. Then blame me for my Mother almost starting to drink again.
What did I do? Once again absolutely everything not to burst into laughter at this broken, bitter shadow of man admit that he knows his verbal ability and that he would have no problem using on me.
Please. What is there that he could possible say? After all, every visit for the last 20 years seemed just to be an excuse for his verbal abuse to continue.
I fully understand why my sister let him try to destroy me, however, how she could do nothing to protect her mother is beyond me.
Growing up, I never understood why my mother never stood up for me, without fail every time she would be on his side. A side which never bothered about understanding what happened.
Oh no, it just became another excuse for my fathers inability to process the stress his job gave him – so he took it out on his wife until she broke and became nothing more than a slave than brings him food, washes his clothes and puts up with his pathological need to verbal abuse.
“Your mother and I have spoken, a number of times, about what it is these women see in you” – classic from him.
The worse was when I was there with my ex along with sister and her husband- father decided to inform us all over yet another amazing cooked Sunday Lunch that he checks his wife’s oven to make sure that its clean enough.
All five of us stopped and just looked at him. As normal, he just kept drinking.
The level of abuse that he subjected me to due to the pressure of working at Spillers caused my extremely significant anxiety.
The last Sunday lunch I will ever have with them was, even by his standards, an incredible torrent of Hate. As always, NO EMOTION ALLOWED – unless it’s him!
Without fail, doing nothing than answering his questions, at some point he will throw his toys out his pram and stomp out the room – again, if only he turned around once and saw us all trying so hard not to laugh!.
It ended with him wanting me to go into full detail about the time I tired to kill myself, chicken bones still on table.
Then, I got a lecture about taking pills and how he was told he had too, however, his power of his mind was greater – the whole time sitting in front of him is one of the largest pills I have ever seen as all the alcohol has given him diabetes.
Why the fun loving, always laughing man that I was proud to call my father has turned into this monster is something – I just do not care about.
He is nothing more than a bully, who if doesn’t get his way, finds a way. At no time is what anyone else wants more important.
The time I came up with my, then, fiancé, I very clearly explained to him that her father used to Abuse her, with the help of a couple of his friends. Therefore she is quite nervous around men and all it took was a man to raise his voice and it would trigger her thinking she was about to be gang-raped again.
I know you know what happened.
Yep, at some point his narcissism got so great he thought i was making a slight at him and he exploded. Really exploded.
I was packing to leave that evening when this poor little girl said no, let us stay – go talk to you dad, make it better.
And so I went to talk to him. The first thing I said was something he has NEVER said to me, Dad, you know I love you and that I know everything you did was out of love for me.
Wow. He really kicked off. Screaming and shouting – do not ever mention that word in this house again he ranted.
It was so bad, that for the first time in my life, my mother told him to stop he was being silly. Opps. Off he went again.
What happened the next day? He continued to be an arse and did not say sorry to anybody.
I could go on with so many more things, like why did they let my sister spend her whole life hating me and doing nothing about it?
Why bother. After all, I just called them to ask, could you at least tell me why you disowned me, mother?
Silence. Not a word – please bear in mind that everyone I have spoken to said do not make the mistake of contacting such toxic people.
My own mother ignored me.
I said something like, fare enough and hung up.
About a minute later, a call came from their home. However, it didn’t ring long enough for me to answer.
NOR: when I called back, did they answer. Just like ive sat her 30 mins typing this, and nothing.
What I hate is how this makes me think of one thing and one thing only.
After all, if ones mother wont even talk to me – I must be a bad man, and bad men must die.
I wake most nights two or three times. Without fail, my thoughts every time is about not being here.
Did someone say I should talk to someone about this increasing pressure?
Sure, it would be nice. However, the Council cut me off from everything last year and I am not even allowed, BY LAW, to contact them.
And I have cried for help – even to my GP and not even he could be bother to call me.
In fact, there is not one thing (obviously not a person as I have nobody) that I can think of great enough to keep me going.
Even the fact that I have taken a person whom thought they could outsmart me to Court for 100k isn’t enough.
All I want, is to go to sleep and not wake up. After all, my own mother doesnt….. Stop simon. Just accept they want you dead. At least that way you can never say anthing to someone else about how many times over the past ten years they left me to die.
Once, in 2017, I asked if I could live in the chicken barn, not even use their house.
My father? He said to me “our lives are too incompatible” and he kicked me out. Right into the horror of Winchester, a horror that had me unable to leave my flat for the last six months due to a gang wandering around with crowbars to kill me.
I just wish, so so much, that I died with Marmite that night. And not her dying on my lap, seeing, actually seeing the life from her eyes go. She lived for me, she died for me. I tried to honour her scarifice, but now, now, even now, my mum is happy to leave the son than never stopped loving her during the three years of alcoholism abuse I and not my sister was subjected too.
I just want to be with Marmite. I just want the pain to stop. I just want a hug as it’s now been FIVE YEARS since I have had one.
Please. Please. Let it be tonight. The night I go to sleep and do not wait. Because if my own mother is happy for it to be this way, then who am I to argue?