So my story. I guess I’ll be blunt about it.
My father committed suicide. I was a baby, the age of two. I have no memory of him. It haunts me daily.
It was the day after his birthday, a day that no one would expect anything to be wrong, and although I’m not completely clear on the story (no one will talk to me about it no matter how much I beg, i actually didn’t know he killed himself until sixth grade.) but from what I’ve gathered, he had had enough, he climbed to the top of our barn, tied a noose around his neck and jumped. It was already hard enough growing up without a father because he supposedly died in a motorcycle accident, but then finding out he chose to take his life, that’s a whole new burden. Since 6th grade I’ve been lost. My world was completely altered, my life had been full of lies and unanswered questions. I blame myself for my fathers death, if I wasn’t born, maybe he wouldn’t have done what he did. Maybe he’d still be alive, keeping my mother and two sister happy. Â Do I want to kill myself? Everyday, I’ve convinced myself I’d be better off with dad wherever the hell he is, i’m not sure what I believe happens after death, but this isn’t about religion. I’m angry. At Dad. At Mom. And most importantly, myself.
A lot of problems have risen since 6th grade, I was bullied in 7th grade and turned to alcohol and cigarettes, no one knows that about me. Luckily, I quit after that year. 8th grade, I was alone, no friends to turn to so I changed who I was. 9th grade is when my suicidal thoughts surfaced intensely (I had been since 6th grade but i buried the thoughts) I used music to keep me alive… Last year I started to do things that can’t seem to be undone. I’m anorexic and I cut myself. Not all the time. But everyday I think about sliding that blade across my leg, and everyday I hate myself for every calorie I take. I’m a little fucked up but no one would know. I have two friends that I’ve told everything, but not even they know it all. They don’t know I still cut. They don’t know I don’t eat. They don’t know I want to be dead. So I figured i’d let you know.
It’s my senior year and high school, everything involves “parents” and everyone has their dad around. I’ve never known what it’s like to have a father, fathers day is meaningless for me. My dads birthday is spent crying at his grave. I can’t explain the feelings this causes, but more importantly, I hate that it causes any feelings at all. I hate emotion, and i’m full of it. So many people have it so much worse, and here I am complaining about my life.
So that’s my story. Or at least some of it.
5 comments
At least you didn’t have an abusive son of a ***** for a father. I wish my father would have killed himself when I was two years old.
Try to understand that your father just couldn’t go on with his life anymore. It’s not your fault, and I’m sure the last thing that he would want is to know that his child is suffering in the same terrible way that he was.
You’re still very young and have plenty of reasons to hold on to hope. Please go get professional help as soon as you can.
Okay not to sound mean or anything, like I get your story, but at least you had your dad for the first two years of your life. I don`t even know if my dad is still alive or not, he deserted my mother and I the day I was born. And all the pictures of my dad my mom hides from me.
If there`s one thing I should say is to not blame yourself, and one way or another you have to confess all of your story to someone. I received help by telling my mother half my story….
Do you have a relationship with your mother?
Have you ever tried to commit suicide?
I`m asking you all this so that I can try my best to help you. I mean, *sighs*. Please don`t get offended because I`m really upset right now, but I care about your life. It doesn`t matter if you complain just let it all out.
I’m sorry about your father. But two years means nothing if you have no memory of it…
And as for a relationship with my mother…it’s complicated. She’s my mom and I love her for all she’s done, but I can’t talk to her about anything. She’s very…heartless. She’s the reason I became anorexic…shes a super health freak and constantly criticizes my weight and appearance and the food I eat.
And I’m sorry you’re upset. I’m not offended, but i’m not sure how to reply. I wasn’t expecting to pour my guts out for the first time and get snapped at by two people that i’m lucky I was 2 and lost my father to suicide. Some definition of luck. I guess it just proves my point that I am just complaining and weak.
I hope whatever both of you are struggling with gets better. Sorry about both of your fathers. Best of luck guys.
I wish you luck, and I hope things will turn out better for you.
I didn’t snap at you. I answered your question because I care. No offense meant.