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when my mom disappeared
My grandma died when I was 8, and the man my father (Nelson) was died with her.
He hadn’t been a super attentive father, but my mom tells me he played with me every day when he got home from work, and we went on vacations as a family.
He listened to me. He liked being around me, and apparently I liked being around him. He loved games, so we spent a lot of time at arcades, and he would invite my friends to go along too and pay their way.
Nelson didn’t handle his mom’s death well, and he turned into an angry, distant person who didn’t even seem to realize I was still there for a few years.
When he did start to notice me, it was to yell at me for something or complain or demand something. He wasn’t nice anymore. Ever.
If my mom and I left during the day to go shopping or something, and we came around the corner to see his truck in the driveway, we’d leave again.
When my mom would hear him pull into the driveway, she’d tell me to run into my room. I still hear a front door or garage opening/closing and feel like I should hide, realize I’m an adult now, and calm down.
I thought it was normal for kids to run and hide when dads came home. My best friend did the same thing.
When I was over at her house, her mom would say “daddy’s coming!” same as my mom did and all five of us would scramble, even the youngest who was 4 at the time and I think had ADHD. None of us thought it was weird to run and hide and be so quiet nobody could hear us. That’s just a thing kids did. You hide when dads come home.
My mom thought it was normal too because she grew up in a house where they all hid from their dad. Part of why she decided to marry my dad was he was so much less horrible than her own dad, not realizing it was still abuse. It was just life.
We put up with Nelson’s obnoxiousness and moods and his complete lack of respect for everyone else. He was stuck in the anger stage of grieving.
When I was 18, mom decided she couldn’t take it anymore, and even though she didn’t tell me about it, she gave my dad an ultimatum; change or I’m leaving.
He didn’t change, so instead of completely moving, mom just packed a bag with some clothes and took off. I was at school so I didn’t see it happening.
For five days none of us had any idea where she was. I tried a few times to ask my dad if he knew anything, but he would just throw his hands up and say “I have no idea! She’s just gone!”
On the 6th day he came out of his room and said, “Mom wants to talk to you. Phone’s in my room.”
Turns out he knew exactly where she’d been the whole time, and she even asked him to tell me and the rest of the family where she was so no one would worry.
She had gone to California, where my dad’s brother lived. She was staying in his spare bedroom at night and during the day she was traveling around California relaxing and letting go of 10 years of pent up frustration over my dad.
And he knew exactly where she was THE. WHOLE. TIME.
Nelson had been talking to her DAILY on the phone.
For FIVE DAYS me, Aunt Carol, my cousin, Charlie, and Charlie’s now ex-wife didn’t know if my mom was dead, kidnapped, off starting another life, or whatever.
I remember walking around the house in a daze, and the whole family just kept checking in with each other like “you heard anything?” “no, you?”
My mom felt terrible. She said she should’ve known he would do that, but who would think a father would do that to their own kid? To their family?
Up until then I wanted kids. I wanted them so badly that I was saving up money to get artificial insemination (I didn’t want to raise children with somebody else and none of the men I knew were good candidates in my eyes). I had enough to get it done twice, and I had money saved besides that to help with raising the children.
After experiencing Nelson for those 10 years and feeling the way that I did around him, I started to change my mind about having kids.
I couldn’t live with myself if I did what he did to a child. He could’ve been worse. I’m not saying he was the worst, and given what his own parents did to him, I really got off easy, but I just couldn’t see bringing a child into the world with the possibility that one day I could have something traumatic happen and get stuck in anger like he did and then take that out on my kid(s).
I refused to put a child through my personality changing completely. And I’m not condemning anybody else doing it. People change and that’s how life goes.
I’m saying personally I couldn’t do it and live with myself. Knowing I had schizophrenia was another factor, and again I’m not condemning a schizophrenic who decides to have children. I’m talking about myself and how I felt about what I was doing and the too-big responsibility of raising a kid.
It’s a good thing I didn’t have any kids. At 25 years of age I had a psychotic episode that changed my personality completely to the point where my family gave up calling me a nickname I’d had since birth and mourned the loss of the person I’d been for 24 years.
I would’ve put any children I had through that.
Even though I wouldn’t have meant to, it still kinda scares me that if I’d gone through with the artificial insemination, I would’ve put innocent kids through a complete personality change of their only parent who wouldn’t have been able to care for them for 5 years while docs tried me on various meds that made me worse until I found something that worked.
I still haven’t forgiven my dad for that and other things he’s done over the years to me and my mom and the rest of my family.
I don’t love him. I don’t like him.
I appreciate that he always kept a roof over my head and food in my belly, but I feel no loyalty to him. Food and shelter wasn’t something I earned as a kid, but rather something I deserved. He did barely enough to show he was a father who provided and in the meantime abused and minfucked me and my mom.
The only reason I put up with his shit now is because I do feel a lot of loyalty to my mom, and I appreciate her more than I can say. In order to take care of her and be around her, Nelson has to be in the picture because she won’t leave him.
After my mom came back when I was 18, she and my dad talked. Her leaving had freaked him out, and he agreed to go to couples counseling.
It helped a little, but he’s never been anything close to what he used to be. He’s angry, paranoid, selfish, stubborn, depressive, doesn’t listen to anyone, and bitter.
But it’s tolerable compared to those first 10 years after his mom died.
It’s only been recently that my mom and I are realizing we’ve been abused and traumatized by various events in our lives.
Our reactions to things are different than how we see other people reacting.
Aunt Carol (mom’s sister) reacted so strongly to a “small” incident as a kid and it’s this HUGE issue she’s gone to years of therapy for and it’s part of her daily life.
Her and other people having such dramatic reactions to stuff like that made us think we weren’t traumatized and that the things we experienced were normal. I’m not blaming my aunt or other people who have strong outward reactions, I’m just saying it was a bad idea on our part to compare because it really hindered our realization and self help.
In talking, we’re realizing so many things. That’s why I started up the tag mayaselfanalyzes. I want to work through these things.
I can’t do it with a counselor or therapist. That’s a whole other story of multiple therapists screwing with my head and causing issues.
I still don’t really know what to do with all these things I’m realizing.
No wonder I’ve got a thick skin with regard to people attacking me and trying to guilt me or mess with my head. I thought I was just really cool or had good skills or maybe the schizophrenia helped, but it turns out they just don’t hold a candle to my dad and my grandpa.
You gotta at least hit my normal before you even come close to hurting me, and even then, if I don’t care about you, it’s still not going to hurt me.
That part of me that cares about what other people do/say to me or what they think of me when I don’t even care about them or like them died a long time ago.
The only people who can hurt me are the ones I love and like.
They only earned that status because they’re not assholes.
He hadn’t been a super attentive father, but my mom tells me he played with me every day when he got home from work, and we went on vacations as a family.
He listened to me. He liked being around me, and apparently I liked being around him. He loved games, so we spent a lot of time at arcades, and he would invite my friends to go along too and pay their way.
Nelson didn’t handle his mom’s death well, and he turned into an angry, distant person who didn’t even seem to realize I was still there for a few years.
When he did start to notice me, it was to yell at me for something or complain or demand something. He wasn’t nice anymore. Ever.
If my mom and I left during the day to go shopping or something, and we came around the corner to see his truck in the driveway, we’d leave again.
When my mom would hear him pull into the driveway, she’d tell me to run into my room. I still hear a front door or garage opening/closing and feel like I should hide, realize I’m an adult now, and calm down.
I thought it was normal for kids to run and hide when dads came home. My best friend did the same thing.
When I was over at her house, her mom would say “daddy’s coming!” same as my mom did and all five of us would scramble, even the youngest who was 4 at the time and I think had ADHD. None of us thought it was weird to run and hide and be so quiet nobody could hear us. That’s just a thing kids did. You hide when dads come home.
My mom thought it was normal too because she grew up in a house where they all hid from their dad. Part of why she decided to marry my dad was he was so much less horrible than her own dad, not realizing it was still abuse. It was just life.
We put up with Nelson’s obnoxiousness and moods and his complete lack of respect for everyone else. He was stuck in the anger stage of grieving.
When I was 18, mom decided she couldn’t take it anymore, and even though she didn’t tell me about it, she gave my dad an ultimatum; change or I’m leaving.
He didn’t change, so instead of completely moving, mom just packed a bag with some clothes and took off. I was at school so I didn’t see it happening.
For five days none of us had any idea where she was. I tried a few times to ask my dad if he knew anything, but he would just throw his hands up and say “I have no idea! She’s just gone!”
On the 6th day he came out of his room and said, “Mom wants to talk to you. Phone’s in my room.”
Turns out he knew exactly where she’d been the whole time, and she even asked him to tell me and the rest of the family where she was so no one would worry.
She had gone to California, where my dad’s brother lived. She was staying in his spare bedroom at night and during the day she was traveling around California relaxing and letting go of 10 years of pent up frustration over my dad.
And he knew exactly where she was THE. WHOLE. TIME.
Nelson had been talking to her DAILY on the phone.
For FIVE DAYS me, Aunt Carol, my cousin, Charlie, and Charlie’s now ex-wife didn’t know if my mom was dead, kidnapped, off starting another life, or whatever.
I remember walking around the house in a daze, and the whole family just kept checking in with each other like “you heard anything?” “no, you?”
My mom felt terrible. She said she should’ve known he would do that, but who would think a father would do that to their own kid? To their family?
Up until then I wanted kids. I wanted them so badly that I was saving up money to get artificial insemination (I didn’t want to raise children with somebody else and none of the men I knew were good candidates in my eyes). I had enough to get it done twice, and I had money saved besides that to help with raising the children.
After experiencing Nelson for those 10 years and feeling the way that I did around him, I started to change my mind about having kids.
I couldn’t live with myself if I did what he did to a child. He could’ve been worse. I’m not saying he was the worst, and given what his own parents did to him, I really got off easy, but I just couldn’t see bringing a child into the world with the possibility that one day I could have something traumatic happen and get stuck in anger like he did and then take that out on my kid(s).
I refused to put a child through my personality changing completely. And I’m not condemning anybody else doing it. People change and that’s how life goes.
I’m saying personally I couldn’t do it and live with myself. Knowing I had schizophrenia was another factor, and again I’m not condemning a schizophrenic who decides to have children. I’m talking about myself and how I felt about what I was doing and the too-big responsibility of raising a kid.
It’s a good thing I didn’t have any kids. At 25 years of age I had a psychotic episode that changed my personality completely to the point where my family gave up calling me a nickname I’d had since birth and mourned the loss of the person I’d been for 24 years.
I would’ve put any children I had through that.
Even though I wouldn’t have meant to, it still kinda scares me that if I’d gone through with the artificial insemination, I would’ve put innocent kids through a complete personality change of their only parent who wouldn’t have been able to care for them for 5 years while docs tried me on various meds that made me worse until I found something that worked.
I still haven’t forgiven my dad for that and other things he’s done over the years to me and my mom and the rest of my family.
I don’t love him. I don’t like him.
I appreciate that he always kept a roof over my head and food in my belly, but I feel no loyalty to him. Food and shelter wasn’t something I earned as a kid, but rather something I deserved. He did barely enough to show he was a father who provided and in the meantime abused and minfucked me and my mom.
The only reason I put up with his shit now is because I do feel a lot of loyalty to my mom, and I appreciate her more than I can say. In order to take care of her and be around her, Nelson has to be in the picture because she won’t leave him.
After my mom came back when I was 18, she and my dad talked. Her leaving had freaked him out, and he agreed to go to couples counseling.
It helped a little, but he’s never been anything close to what he used to be. He’s angry, paranoid, selfish, stubborn, depressive, doesn’t listen to anyone, and bitter.
But it’s tolerable compared to those first 10 years after his mom died.
It’s only been recently that my mom and I are realizing we’ve been abused and traumatized by various events in our lives.
Our reactions to things are different than how we see other people reacting.
Aunt Carol (mom’s sister) reacted so strongly to a “small” incident as a kid and it’s this HUGE issue she’s gone to years of therapy for and it’s part of her daily life.
Her and other people having such dramatic reactions to stuff like that made us think we weren’t traumatized and that the things we experienced were normal. I’m not blaming my aunt or other people who have strong outward reactions, I’m just saying it was a bad idea on our part to compare because it really hindered our realization and self help.
In talking, we’re realizing so many things. That’s why I started up the tag mayaselfanalyzes. I want to work through these things.
I can’t do it with a counselor or therapist. That’s a whole other story of multiple therapists screwing with my head and causing issues.
I still don’t really know what to do with all these things I’m realizing.
No wonder I’ve got a thick skin with regard to people attacking me and trying to guilt me or mess with my head. I thought I was just really cool or had good skills or maybe the schizophrenia helped, but it turns out they just don’t hold a candle to my dad and my grandpa.
You gotta at least hit my normal before you even come close to hurting me, and even then, if I don’t care about you, it’s still not going to hurt me.
That part of me that cares about what other people do/say to me or what they think of me when I don’t even care about them or like them died a long time ago.
The only people who can hurt me are the ones I love and like.
They only earned that status because they’re not assholes.