Sorry seems to be the hardest word

I’m nuts. I’m loony. I guess you could say I’m a functioning nut case, sort of like a functioning alcoholic. I’m beginning to wonder if something other than being sexually molested as a young child caused me to be so damaged. Sure, my family life was a bit dysfunctional but I’ve heard horror stories that other children had to endure so maybe I blocked something painful that hasn’t resurfaced or the damage is genetic. My grandfather’s two brothers both committed suicide by hanging so maybe there is some gene that was passed down.

The same thoughts keep buzzing in my head and I get no closure. For example, my father had a “breakdown” when I was thirteen and he took his military issued gun and in a drunken stupor he threatened my mother and us kids while waving the gun around. My mother quickly grabbed us all and herded us into our car to a seedy sort of hotel (only hotel close to home) for the night. Now, I don’t know about you but this event caused me quite a bit of mental anguish over the years. Why do I even bring it up or why does it even play out in my head after I’ve grown up? Well, basically because my father has always believed that I was the reason our family was screwed up. When my mother passed away when I was twenty-four he said I killed her by making her worry so much that she developed cancer. I guess I’ve been waiting (all my life) for an apology from my father for the lovely mind bending abuse he has thrown my way. For some reason, he thinks that what ever he’s done to me in the form of punishment/abuse was because at age two I started to become a brat and he needed to help me over come my spoiled-brat tendencies.

Time and thoughts with no closure equals basketcase.