Officially Stefny

As long as I’ve been alive, I don’t think my dad’s ever told me he loves me.

I mean, one time, he told me I was as useless as a warm jar of piss.

Another time, he broke my favourite necklace because he had me pinned on the floor by my neck.

When I was little, I broke my favourite pencil because I was gripping it so hard while he was yelling.

Since he turned out exactly like his dad, I’ve always worried that I’ll turn out like him.

I don’t think he’s ever been happy, at least not since he was 6. His little sibing was born and became the golden child of the family. Never had to work for anything.

I know how he feels, except I didn’t have little siblings. No, I had to compete with horses.

I love animals. All of them. Any kind. Except my dad’s two horses. I resented them so badly. My dad treated them better than he ever treated me.

My whole life, my dad lived less than a mile from his parents. He only ever went there to drop me off/pick me up or at Thanksgiving/Christmas. In fact, after my grandma died (who took care of all the finances), my dad had to take that over. He would always say “I can’t wait till the old bastard dies so I don’t have to deal with this shit anymore.”

Once he went into a nursing home, it was more or less the same. Until one day, something snapped. I’m not sure why. But near the end of his life, my dad actually went to see my grandpa every day. Maybe his mortality was becoming real. Maybe it was the realization that he was about to be orphaned.

I think they both have/had undiagnosed mental disorders. I’m not a doctor and can’t speculate as to what, but my grandpa was in WWII. Maybe he had PTSD or something. I actually don’t know anything about his life. We didn’t even find out he was previously married until either he went to the nursing home or he died, I can’t remember.

I have multiple DIAGNOSED mental disorders. Medication and therapy help me greatly. They don’t completely solve the problems, but they help a lot. Neither of them would ever dream about getting on meds, let alone going to therapy.

I know my dad has been suicidal. Me too. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better for either of us if the other one were gone.

I don’t know why I’m typing all of this. I just wanted to put it down.