Hey, it's me again. Your favourite dumpster fire of a writer.
THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG CHAPTER. BUCKLE UP
I realize this book is just turning into a big "I'm a teenager and I'm edgy and I hate my parents" kinda thing, but I'm really trying to not make it sound like that. I'm simply expressing myself without actually expressing myself to them. It's not healthy lmao.
So. Anger. It's not fun. It's not fun for anyone involved. It's not fun for the angry person, and it's definitely not fun for anybody surrounded by it.
I've written about my Dad and his anger issues. Somehow it's gotten worse. As soon as I think he's at his lowest point he gets worse. Everything is getting worse.
My Dad is spiraling downward into a bottomless chasm of anger, rage, sadness, and general hatred, and there's nothing we can do about it.
In 2009 he had a massive heart attack from years of fast food and smoking.
——
I started writing this chapter roughly a week ago. Literally as I was writing it my dad started to freak out again and things spiralled out of control.
It spiralled into him saying, and these are his exact words, "The fuck are you gonna do, hit me? Push me down the stairs? Do it, I dare you." after I stepped in between him and my sister screaming at each other over him threatening to kill our cat that we've had ever since it was only a few weeks old for throwing up inside the house.
Things somehow kept spiralling from there and it went far enough for my mom and I to kick him out of the house and send him to the hospitals psychiatric ward. They've kept him there since, and are trying to figure out what's snapped inside that warped little mind of his.
I haven't seen him since so I don't know all of the details, but my moms been going to visit him and she says that they're getting ready to discharge him and they're going to set him up with an apartment so he isn't homeless.
The plan is for him to use his disability checks to pay for rent. All I know is that I don't want him back here.
This couldn't have come at a more coincidental time. Anyways, I'll try to continue with the chapter.
——
In 2009 he had a massive heart attack from years of fast food and smoking. This sent him to the hospital for a while.
Before this, my mom and him had already been separated for a few years. This is what brought them back together.
He's suffered from anger issues his entire life. It's come from being dealt a bad hand in life, as well as just generally poor choices as a kid and young adult.
This is what separated them the first time. They had gotten into some sort of fight when I was 6 or 7, and it escalated into him breaking shit and basically freaking out. So she ended up kicking him out and he checked himself into a local rehab centre to focus on kicking his drug habits. Eventually they decided he was good to go, so he did.
He found a house with a roommate and stayed there for a while. Then he had his heart attack.
This heart attack really disabled him. He had to get a pacemaker because his heart decided it didn't want to beat properly on its own anymore. He also had to stop smoking, eating fast food, and generally start to be healthier.
This wasn't what pushed him over the edge.
What it was, was the fact that he had pretty close to exactly a quarter of his original strength. He wasn't able to do things he wanted to do. He couldn't play with his kids. He couldn't play with our cats. He couldn't go out to eat with us because he was too sick to leave the house, and even when he got better and was able to move around more he wasn't able to walk through the mall without having to sit down every 15 minutes to avoid collapsing. He wasn't able to be around more than 5 people at a time without the general activity level physically hurting his heart. He couldn't do anything.
This is what first broke him.
He started to get better and was starting to act like a functioning human being. Then life struck again.
He eventually had to go back to the hospital to get a triple bypass which then weakened him again. He started to suffer from the same consequences as before, and it made him even weaker.
This is what then broke him.
He eventually began to recover and was able to act like a normal person once more.
Then yet again, he got broken.
In August of 2016 we were coming home from working at the motorcycle shop where my dad was employed and I volunteered.
We were riding home on his bike and we ended up getting hit by some dumbass who decided to turn left over two lanes of traffic and a double solid line.
I ended up flying off the bike and just rolling. The worst I had was some road rash.
My dad on the other hand. He didn't get so lucky. He ended up with a broken wrist on one side and a separated shoulder on the other, essentially rendering him useless for a while.
His broken wrist never fully healed so it's still weak. He can't even lift a half full jug of milk with that side.
His shoulder also never fully recovered. It's still out of place. To fix it they would need to move around his pacemaker and the surgeons as well as his doctors all strongly recommended against it because there's a high chance of death. So he didn't. He just left it there. You can still see the bump where it's out of place, and hear it popping when he moves his arm a certain way.
This seems to be the straw that broke the camels back, and my dads psyche.
I honest to god believe all of this, as well as underlying mental issues from previous life choices caused him to become the man he is today.
When I think back to my childhood, up until about 14 years old I remember my dad as being my hero. I remember him as being full of life and joy and energy. Now he's broken, angry, sad.
And there's nothing I can do about it.
