Darkest moments

I have a horrific dark moment that I don’t share with anyone. I’m on my first bourbon... check back in an hour or so.

I'm sorry.

Your darkest moments were seeing your mother with a coffee stain on her shirt and watching her slip on some ice? Unless she was seriously injured in the latter incident , I'm thinking you've led a pretty charmed life.

R3 doesn’t get it. It’s not about the coffee stain.

I guess it is really about seeing someone that you saw as a demigod, or someone beyond the ravages of time and space- actually vulnerable.

And I have not seen or spoke to my mother in 18 years...

But somehow, those 2 memories- remain...

And actually make me a humble and sensitive. Its a feeling I guess I could never begin to explain. But it remains with me always. And always will.

Empathy, I guess? But infinitely deeper and more compassionate.

And I have to say. I love you mom. And I hope that you are safe, loved, and at peace. I wish that I could have been a better son.

And when I am on my run, along the ocean, and I see that ice- I think of you (and me) and I just remember how alone we all are. And just one slip- just one- It changes it all.

OP and R5. I get you. 100%. I have so many of these moments. Melancholy tempered with fear and novelty (?). Moments that do not fit into the normal panoply of emotions and experience. They can be overwhelming. I try to let them come... and go. It is hard. They are seemingly trivial when spoken of or written. Yet they are powerful. Hang in there. No advice here.

I was 19 when my dad died. We weren't close. So I thought it was no big deal, that I'd be fine with the news. I was working at a grocery store as I paid my way through college. I got the call from an estranged aunt just before my shift. Me being me, I just said cool and went to work. About two hours into my shift, as I was facing beans or something, I totally broke down. I never break down. My manager, who I adored, asked me what's wrong? I said my dad died. He thought I said my dog died. Which, frankly, had also just happened. 19 was not a good year for me.

Cut to another hour later and my boss called me into his office. My mom had called him. Which would normally infuriate me. But she told him that my father had passed. He felt so bad. He actually gave me a hug. Sent me home.

Horrible time, but my boss' kindness I always remember.

OP, I think the reason why you’re thinking about this so much is because you know you need to contact your mother.

Oh wait. Nevermind. I just read the rest of your post.

Well, that is certainly unfortunate.

I agree with R9. Even if it's just for closure, maybe getting in touch with her will help. Your friend's mom was a bitch by the way.

[quote] [R3] doesn’t get it. It’s not about the coffee stain.

Yes, I get that it was about seeing someone look down on his mother, and seeing his mother in a position to be looked down upon. But christ almighty, it was still just a fucking coffee stain, not like his mother had been suddenly reduced to scrubbing his friend's mom's toilets or something. And as others have said, OP might feel better if he actually contacted his sainted mother instead getting all sob sister about her on DL.

R12 The mother is dead, you fat whore!

Another vote for getting in touch with your mom, OP.

[quote]And my same mother

So, you're drunk and/or insane, OP?

Wallow away.

R7- Thank you so much. Its a moment when you realize that nothing was what you thought it was, (9-11 was my final example)

R-8 - You get it as well......

Its just when you learn about death and vulnerability at a young age..

It is quite an experience.

And I see R12's response now, and I understand his response. But if he ever felt that feeling, I know that he would understand. I have nothing else to say.

And my mother is not dead.

But I know that I will never speak with her again. But I love you, mom! And I wish you the best of everything. Always.

And R15, Drunk and insane. And yes, Wallowing!

If your mother is NOT dead then you need to contact her. Are you kidding me with this? Even if she has done something to hurt you, the fact that you are having these feelings means something is unresolved. A healthy response to this memory would be to feel embarrassed for your mother. My mother once came flying out of the house in her nightgown LITERALLY chasing behind my fucking school bus waving my bag lunch that I’d forgotten on the kitchen table and the whole bus laughed at her. I have a normal relationship with my mother so frankly the memory annoys me. Your feelings are telling you something dummy, and it ain’t what you seem think. Call her.

Why exactly don't you speak to your mother, OP? She farted in the grocery store and shattered your last precious illusion of her dignity and demigod status?

OP. R7 here. You might be drunk or high. Which is ok. No judgments here buddy. But the small, trivial memories can be fucking powerful. Go to sleep. And try to immerse yourself in the boring, quotidian banalities of life. Stupid? Yes. But they keep one from slashing one’s wrists.

R19, Ive had a few beers. You are lovely.

And I truly love the simple things- the banal.

But that shit- the real shit- it never leaves someone. Does it...

And so it is. My love. XOXOXOXOXOXOOX

This OP. But no wrist slitting or OD

Above is me r19

Better this. I am r19

About a week before my dad died, he was at home receiving home hospice. The master bedroom was on the first floor, and I got him in a wheelchair and rolled him down the hall to the kitche.n. Although he was very weak, he was still a complete dick. He was also loving, but could be a real dick. As I'm wheeling him down the hall he says to me "No one thinks you're funny." My way to deal with trauma is to crack a joke, use black humor etc. I kept wheeling him and he keeps repeating "No one thinks you're funny." "Shut up," I mutter. "No one thinks you're funny. Your brother doesn't think you're funny". "Shut up, " I say more forcefully. "No one thinks you're funny. Not your brother, not Harriett" (a family friend).

"I mean it now. SHUT UP!"

"No one thinks you're funny..." and wouldn't stop.

Finally I scream "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!"

"You can't talk that way to me! I'M DYING!!!!!"

"NOT FAST ENOUGH OLD MAN!!!!!!!", I return.

Stunned silence between the two of us and then we both broke into giggles because it was so fucking absurd and out of control. He died a week later.

Are you still there op? R19 21 23. I’m drunk. And I’d like to talk w you.

[quote] I guess it is really about seeing someone that you saw as a demigod, or someone beyond the ravages of time and space- actually vulnerable.

I remember the exact moment I knew that the roles had reversed between me and my mom. She was going through what I thought was just a rough patch. But then a couple of really bad things happened to her, plus she was getting older. One day, she and I went to a matinee movie. I looked over at her. She was cold and was wearing a thick jacket. I realized that she was never going to be that strong again and that I would have to take care of her (instead of her taking care of me).

When my soufflé didn't rise.

R25- I am here for you, sweetheart, and I always will be!!

What do we talk about!??

How can I help!????

I stepped ON the ping pong ball.

OP. R28. It’s me! R25 and above including Alison Moyet. I’m drunk and just being stupid. I’m in nyc. Where are you?

R30- I am in a place about 300 miles away called Rye Beach NH- Its a weird and coastal place. Very small and lovely. We are at least on same time zone!!

I remember my mother's fall from demigod status very well. I had a complete evil bastard for an assistant principal in middle school. He punished me pretty harshly for something that wasn't my fault and my mother went to confront him, taking me with her.

Even though she was completely in the right to confront him, one stern look and a mildly stern word in reply from him and she wilted instantly. By the time he was done with her she was agreeing with him with tears in her eyes and apologizing. I'd never seen an adult just fold and allow themselves to be mentally steamrolled -- to the point of turning on their own kid in the face of a domineering asshole who is in the wrong -- let alone my own mother, who I'd taken to be a much stronger person, though of course I had no evidence for this, it was just a child's naivete. I suppose I had a sheltered, rural childhood, and that was the beginning of the end of it.

It was pretty devastating. To this day decades later I don't think I've ever really gotten over the contempt for her that incident, and some subsequent incidents in later years to do with my older brother, bred in me over time.

OP is a prisspot. He doesn't talk to his mother because she's not the perfect rich Stepford Wife his friends' mother was. He just can't forgive that coffee stain.

R33- A prisspot?

Nothing is that simple. We never, ever got along or understood each other.

But now, in my early 40's??? I truly wish her nothing but the best that life offers.

We have not seen each other in 19 years.

[quote]He punished me pretty harshly for something that wasn't my fault

r32 what did you do?

You seem like a rather sick motherfucker, op. Am I wrong?

I remember it like it was yesterday, but it’s been 35 years, I was 16, and had found out just an hour or so earlier that my younger sister had reported to our school that she had been sexually abused by our father and was temporarily moved to foster care. I found this out while riding the school bus home.

I was devastated. As I neared our house I remembered that my father had the day off and would be home when I got there. I couldn’t face him, so I got off the bus and immediately turned and started walking back down the road. I got about two miles away when my father pulled up and told me to get in, I couldn’t even look at him. We didn’t speak. It was soul crushing.

We got home and I went into the house, while my father stayed outside and did some yard work. Shortly after, my two older sisters came home from classes at a technical college. I had to tell them what happened. One of them didn’t say anything, but started weeping. The other became manic and began pacing back and forth and really freaking out. In a few short words I had destroyed their image of their dad forever. There were no hugs, no consoling. How could we console each other when we were all gutted.

Soon after, my mom came home. I had never seen such raw hurt on anyone’s face. She pulled my father outside, but we could hear everything. She asked if it was true. He didn’t answer. Again, she asked if it was true. He sputtered back in tears that it was true. My mom told him to leave immediately. I never saw my father again.

[quote] Shortly after, my two older sisters came home from classes at a technical college. I had to tell them what happened. One of them didn’t say anything, but started weeping. The other became manic and began pacing back and forth and really freaking out. In a few short words I had destroyed their image of their dad forever.

R37, do you think it's possible that your father sexually abused your two older sisters (in addition to the allegation from your younger sister)? The way you describe it, your two older sisters were not necessarily surprised or in a state of disbelief (about your younger sister's allegation).

R38

Yes. One of them was, the one that just wept. I found that out a few years later.

R39, I'm sorry to hear that. For your sisters' sake, I'm glad your Mom didn't try to keep your Dad in the house. Also, I guess you can be grateful that your Dad didn't deny (to your Mom) that he had sexually abused your younger sister. I'm guessing it made the decisions easier for your Mom.

Still, though, I'm sure it's hard to never see your father again. He might not have been Father of the Year, but maybe you could have had some type of relationship with him, however guarded.

R38

God that's so awful R37, I'm so sorry that happened. That's a shitty thing to happen and you were all victims really including you and your mother.

I've written this on DL before. 2003, I was in my senior year at school. I went to a conservative religious school. I was dangerously clinically depressed, in love with another guy and deeply closeted. Despite the depression I was a high achiever, perhaps because of it. The depression was eating me up. I told the guy I was in love with how I felt about him and to his credit he was fine with it. I confided in a teacher that I was gay and in love with another student. The next day I was asked to go to the pastors' office where he derided me for the choice I had made. I ran from his office, left school and went home. Within a day everyone in the school knew; teachers, staff, students. The dean of students tried to have me expelled for leaving school but all she could manage was a suspension. Things got a lot worse. I was sent to a psychiatrist, I left school for a few months 'rest'. I wasn't allowed on the school grounds because I had been deemed suicidal and they didn't want to become liable if anything happened. I was allowed to go back to school to graduate.

A week after graduation my father tried to kill himself because he was so ashamed I was gay. He slit his throat with a kitchen knife in our backyard. By the time I got to him he was about to have another go at his throat with the knife as he knew he hadn't severed anything major. I wrestled him to the ground and got the knife away from him, in effect saving his life. Everyone blamed me.

I'm 33 now, it took me many, many years to get over what happened and I still struggle with it. That's my darkest moment.

R42, I’m sorry you got blamed for something that was not your fault at all. You saved your dad’s life, really.

We were beyond poor white trash. Pasta with butter. . Slept on a sofa. Druggie dad & mom. Cockroaches & waterbugs everywhere. It all sucked but everyone was like that where I grew up. My dark moment was: for my birthday I was given a (generic) walkman that I coveted like nothing before or since. I even had two cassette tapes - cyndi lauper & thriller (shoplifted) I couldn’t believe they got it for me. I wasn’t allowed to bring it to school the next day- which was strange since it’s portable. The reason was Dad hocked it & the tapes for drugs. I never hated a person like I hated him (them)

Hugs to you all from a stranger on the internet.

I'm shocked this happened in 2003, r42. I hope you know that none of this was your fault or fair in any way. I also hope all the people involved at your school (teachers, priest and other students) are ashamed of themselves for treating you this way and not helping, standing up for you or supporting you. Did your family help you at all? Your mom maybe or siblings? Do you still have contact with your family? How do they feel about it now? How can people who are supposed to love you and support you treat their kids like this for just being different/gay?

r42 here. I lost every friend I had and most of the teachers turned on me, It was a scandal. A few good teachers said kind things but I guess they were scared for their jobs if they helped too much. My brother refused to be seen in public with me. I ended up having ECT, shock therapy, for the depression, not that it did much. I still find it hard to trust people. None of it is talked about in my family and we all act like none of it ever happened. I was too ill at the time to stand up for myself and do anything about it. Today I'd sue the school and take it to the media, but that's an adult's perspective in hindsight. I didn't want to cause any more trouble or bring shame on my family any more at the time so I said nothing. My father refused to pay for college, my academic work was ruined anyway because I was so sick. So I have no formal education despite being smart, so it ruined my life. It took a decade to heal my mind and I still struggle with my mental health. People are cruel.

I'm so very sorry, r47.

It would have to be when my father died. I loved that man so much, and he seemed invincible. Unfortunately, he, too, thought that he was invincible, and ignored prostate symptoms until it was too late. By that time the cancer was starting to spread to his bones. It was not a kindly death. I was stunned and overwhelmed. He was my hero. He gave me a love of reading and a fondness for poetry, as well as a sense of adventure. He had a love of animals that he passed on to me, as well an interest in the paranormal. We would go hiking together, even when I was an adult. He was the consummate storyteller. He would recount the adventures of his younger years, and some of them were hilarious. He had a deep interest in wars and famous battles, and would tell me about Belleau Wood, Dunkirk, trench warfare in WW1, the invasion of Normandy, and dozens of other events. He was fascinating. Most importantly of all, he loved me unconditionally. I was his only child, and I'm sure he would have died for me.

r48 thanks

R4, he/she got it but still thinks OP is just shallow as I do.

Growing up sexually molested at an orphanage and taking as much blame for it as the perp: “you’re nasty” “I heard what you did with Chip.” I was six years old, maybe seven.

That place can kiss my ass.

It was a Saturday morning. I remember every single detail, even though it happened 16 years. My sleep was interrupted by my grandad's groan. Shortly after I heard my mom screaming. I ran there and saw my grandad on the sofa, as white as sheet. He was having a heart attack. I know it sounds childish, as I was 15 at that time, but I swear, that exact moment my childhood was over. Before that day death seemed to be something very metophysical for me and adults always were strong and healthy and had a shoulder to cry on. I remember that ambulance didn't come fast. It was March, but the weather was unusually cold, like 10 degrees below zero. I remember myself running between balcony ( I was trying to see if the ambulance had come) and grandad's room. And I remember that I thought :"How it's possible when one dies in such a sunny and pleasant day".

There were many with my mother. When I was a very little girl, my father’s father died. He lived on another continent, and wasn’t able to go to the funeral. He cried and clung to me, sobbing. It was confusing, because he was always comforting me when I cried. It’s a very tactile memory, I can still feel it.

As a grown woman, when my FIL died, I was a few days from giving birth, my stoic and tough MIL did the same thing to me. It was shocking because she didn’t care much for me, and had never given me more than an air kiss in the eight years I’d known her. As soon as she saw me, she began bawling and clung to me. It was an unguarded moment for her, and afterwards, we pretended it never happened. Death and birth and all that.

I became severely depressed around age 14. I attempted suicide when I was 16 and spent a while in two different mental hospitals. I left high school during my sophomore year and never went back. I lost contact with almost all my friends, some I had known since elementary school. It's been 30 years and I still avoid people from that time of my life because of the shame I still feel for disappointing so many people.

You want dark, I'm the master of it. I'm tickled by the fact my father, who I cut off contact with about five years earlier. He choked to death. A fitting end for an anal sphincter of man.

Hey OP, you get some closet doors up yet? Hope that Barney's sweater worked out. I'll be over with my toolbox a little later if ya need help.

R42 you did nothing wrong. It was 100% them. I wish you health & happiness.

R42 you did nothing wrong. It was 100% them. I wish you health & happiness.

Yes, r42. I wish I could hug you. I hope you get the love and support you deserve. I know we all only have one family and can't pick them, but how can you still deal with these people after what they've put you through?

[quote] A week after graduation my father tried to kill himself because he was so ashamed I was gay. He slit his throat with a kitchen knife in our backyard.

Are you sure your father wasn't gay, r42, because he sounds like one hell of a drama queen. I'm not really kidding. Do you think his extreme reaction had anything to do with being deeply closeted himself?

Wow - some really rough stories. I feel like mine of death are pretty pedestrian.

Mine were all getting notified of family having terminal cancer - father at 21, sister at 31, brother at 48. And watching 2 of them die slowly and painfully. Cancer death is a bitch. Especially when the person is so young. But it made me appreciate how fleeting life is at an early age and prioritize what is important. Feel like I’m ready to face it - but definitely want to OD before it gets bad. Just not sure I will have the courage to consciously, intentionally end it to avoid the slow agonizing deaths I’ve witnessed.

r32 tell me more about your brother breading you. Was he hot back in the day?

[quote] [R32] tell me more about your brother breading you. Was he hot back in the day?

The brother dredged him in egg and then Italian bread crumbs, then shallow-fried him in peanut oil.

Peanut oil? Peanut Oil?

r62 was it the same type of cancer? My mum has recently been diagnosed with a rare, aggressive, genetic type of cervical cancer. There is a part of me (after processing all the surrounding emotions - I'm not a complete monster) that wonders if I am a ticking time bomb.

I have written about my darkest moment here before. When I was ten I discovered my dad's porn collection. Hidden amongst it were phone numbers for prostitutes. It was like my hero had let me down. This kind, gentle, lovely man became a demon in my eyes - culminating in me at thirteen telling him I wanted him to die; and that he should 'Just leave and never come back!'

He was killed a few hours later in a tragic car accident that was his fault.

Life really sucks sometimes.

Dark lesbians

R66 - different cancers but genetically related. I guessed that there was a genetic reason early on. Took a while for research to catch up - but I was right and I have the gene. It’s actually ok - rather than worrying about the possibility, knowing makes it easier oddly. I am planning for it. I’ve stopped worrying about saving millions for retirement and am truly enjoying the the present more.

Also learned that “early detection” is generally a myth except for a very few cancers. Unless you have CT scans every year - which has the potential to give you cancer itself. Just live. Travel, don’t work as much, don’t worry, have a drink - stop fearing the future.

R68, the last words of your post spoke to me. I was just thinking that I can’t bear to look back on so many things because of pain and regret. I just want to keep looking at the future because it doesn’t hurt as much (even though it’s dwindling).

OP, YOU SOUND LIKE AN OBNOXIOUS PRICK.

Nah, R70. If he is who I think he is, he's a good dude.

LEAVE OP ALONE r70!

R57- You are the best, man!!! I know you!! You are my favorite. And no closet doors still!!! I almost put in an offer for a house on Saturday (with REAL closets) and then yesterday learned my company was being acquired.. I don't even know if I will have a job after September. so I am stuck with no closet doors- and maybe a broken lease to match!!

It has been a fucked up week and a fucked up year.

Everyone, I just want to apologize for this thread. Especially the Subject Title.

"Darkest moments" was not the most appropriate title. It should have been "When your parents no longer seem omnipotent" "Or when you realize your parents are human"..

My moments mentioned certainly disturbed me, and they were dark (to me). But not those dark night of the soul moments.

2 beers when I started this drunken thread.

And holy fuck some of you have been through some major stuff -

I won't add my -really -dark tales of woe.

But I sure did make myself look like an incredible tool.

About six months before she died, my mother and I had a conflict. She was a very difficult woman, although we did love each other. She said something quite unforgivable, intended to wound me. I didn’t take the bait and said we should probably end the call, and we did. I could tell she was sorry, pretty much immediately, but still. I was more hurt at her intention to upset me than what she actually said, if that makes sense.

Then we somewhat reconciled. And then she died. I don’t think about it that much anymore, but it was disappointing that she did that. I disappointed her, too. Sometimes we just do terrible things.

This too shall pass, OP. This too shall pass. Look on the bright side. You could be Rush Limbaugh.

I'm still not ready to contribute to this but I know I will, I have to. Thanks, OP, for starting this thread. It's going to clear a lot of memories, guilt, karma, whatever we call that stuff we carry with us that few people understand. It's important to us but means little to other people so we keep it inside.

When I was five I remember my mother dug earrings out of the car. I knew they weren't hers, but it wasn't something you'd want to discuss

I was 9 when my parents divorced. But what I remember most about the day they told us was hearing my dad SOBBING after my younger brother and I had gone to bed (my mom left him that day). I had never heard him cry before or since, and it's stayed with me to this day.

everything started out okay......I hired an escort for a hot night.....and then things went bad....

R37 again

My younger sister became a different person after she was forced into foster care. Within a month she ran away. She stopped by our house while everyone was away and stole the money I had been saving for years working on a neighbor’s farm. We didn’t hear from her for a few months. She called once and I answered the phone. It was like talking to a feral person who I had never met. I tried to get her to tell me where she was, but she was so angry. She hated herself...she hated me...she hated all of us. She ended up slamming the phone in my ear without saying where she was. Miraculously she was picked up by cops in Long Beach and sent home on a bus...and she actually came home.

She was still incredibly aloof and angry when she returned home. It was heartbreaking because we were a year apart and had always been best friends. My mother was so destroyed by the experience that she spent every night drinking at the local bar, so she was not helpful at all in helping my sister recover.

On a cold night in March, I saw my sister writing a letter. After she went to bed, my curiosity got the best of me and I found the letter. It was addressed to a girl I didn’t know in California. I steamed the letter open and read it. My heart sunk as I read how my 15 year sister described how she performed for truckers in return for her cross country travel to California. I resealed the letter and put it back where I found it.

But.....I forgot to turn off the stove burner. Within fifteen minutes the entire kitchen was on fire. My sisters woke up because their bedroom was above the kitchen. I called 911 and called my mom at the bar while aerosol cans exploded around me. The house wasn’t completely destroyed, but it was bad.

Firemen ruled the fire an accident and I never told anyone I caused it. Some people blamed my sister. I wish I could have come forward and exonerated her, but at the time I thought if I explained how it happened, my sister....and everyone else...would know I read my sister’s letter and would know her terrible secret. To this day, I am ashamed of what I put everyone through.

R79 FU. You think you're funny and you're not. The Gillum thing is old news.

During a period of depression I became suicidal and was admitted to the hospital and placed "on watch". I was there for three days. Before I left, I was told by one of the doctors that she had never experienced a patient in such "extreme crisis" who retained their sense of humor and kept the staff laughing while the patient was on suicide watch. A nurse voiced something similar as I was leaving. I guess I'm always good for a laugh even when wanting to die.

[R32] tell me more about your brother breading you. Was he hot back in the day?

he was making bread out of his brother?

FU R83 Trying to be funny and failing. Find some other thread to try to be cute. You suck...or wish you could.

Failing? Sweetie, I'm not the one who used breading instead of breeding, unless r32 really does cover his brother in breadcrumbs. So using an ad hominem attack to insult me to compensate for your poor use of grammar really is redundant.

[quote] Failing? Sweetie, I'm not the one who used breading instead of breeding, unless [R32] really does cover his brother in breadcrumbs. So using an ad hominem attack to insult me to compensate for your poor use of grammar really is redundant.

JFC, you’re a colossal dimwit.

First of all, “breading” vs. “breeding” is about word usage not grammar. If you want to be a DL scold, learn the differences among errors in spelling, grammar, mechanics, and usage.

Second and more important, you also apparently have terrible reading comprehension skills. R2 said nothing about breeding OR breading his brother. Rather, he stated that certain incidents with his mother—including some that involved his brother—bred in him a lifelong contempt for his mother. He correctly spelled and used “bred,” as in the past tense of “breed.”

God knows how, in your mind, “bred” became “bread” and R32’s entire final paragraph about how his dark moment bred contempt for his mother became some twisted bullshit about “breeding” (as in the stupid person’s slang for anal sex) his brother.

I guess you are just really fucking stupid.

^^ [R32] said nothing about breeding OR breading his brother.

Goddamn, I love bread.

Easily bettered, r23.

I guess the Muppet Show just had the laugh track set on "random."

A lot of these stories sound made-up.

[quote] A lot of these stories sound made-up.

What, you don't think some dude's father tried to slit his own throat in the backyard because he was so ashamed of having a gay son?

My father's death was the first major death I'd ever encountered in my life. We'd lost pets before and that was bad enough, but I was surprised by how my grief manifested itself. A huge chunk of the family had gathered in his hospital bed once it was announced that he was dead and we were all just crowded in there with his corpse. His jaw was slack and it was as if his face was contorted into some sort of horrible grimace. Everyone was screaming or crying or beating on the walls and I stood there, perfectly still and emotionless observing everyone.

It wasn't until later that night that I had my first cry and then I pretty much locked up shop for the next year, effectively having a mini nervous breakdown I didn't even know I was going through until years later. I'd always assumed nervous breakdowns involved people clawing at their faces and screaming and getting put into straight jackets, but I was just sort of cold and emotionless, going through the motions of the day and not finding much joy in anything. That entire year is a huge blur to me. I self-medicated with food and would rarely leave my apartment except to occasionally go to a class or go get food to bring back to my room.

I lost a huge part of myself when my father died. It's been over a decade now and it's still surreal to think that someone who played such a large role in my life is now gone forever. I counted on him for so many things and I could go to him with any question. I wonder if my life would have turned out differently if he'd still been around to help me with certain things.

My mom had breast cancer in 2001-2002 and ended up having both of her breasts removed. I lived in San Francisco and she was in the Midwest. I visited her early on and spent time with her as she recovered. Later in 2002 I made the decision to take a once in a lifetime trip with a group of friends, which unfortunately left me with no money and no room on my credit cards. For the first time in my 35 years, I didn’t go back and spend Christmas with my mom and sisters.

In early February, my mom called me to tell me she had liver cancer and the prognosis was very bad. She sounded upbeat, but I knew I didn’t have too much time. I still had no money, so I opted to wait two days and get a flight that I could afford.

My sister called the night before my flight to tell me that our mom died. When I finally got there the next day I found out that my mom was probably the most lucid she was that last week when she spoke to me on the phone, and that she was happy I was coming home and was eager to see me. All I could think was that I was a selfish ass and I blew my last two chances to see her alive because I decided to have fun. I would give anything to change that, but as with all things in life, I can’t.

Every morning, I would check on my parents before heading to work. One day, she was having trouble breathing (she was already hooked up to an oxygen machine). I told her I was going to call an ambulance, but she insisted that she just needed a cool washcloth, which I gave her. Eventually, her breathing normalized, When I told her I was going to stay home to make sure she was okay, she was very insistent that I go to work. All day, at work, I kept worrying about her, and I clocked out as soon as my time was up, and rushed home. I hadn't called her since she hated receiving telephone calls (too hard to get out of bed to get to the phone.

When I finally got home, she was dead in bed, and my poor Dad (who had Alzheimer's) just shook her shoulder, and told her, "Wake up, Gin! Our boy is home!" He was diabetic, and hadn't eaten all day, So I called my boyfriend, and asked him to pick up something to eat for my Dad. My BF was so good with my Dad, and he kept my Dad distracted when the funeral home came to pick up her body. My Dad couldn't survive without my Mom, and he died two and a half months later. His poor brain couldn't remember that Mom was dead.

I was a very lucky child, with parents who really loved me. I miss them all the time.

I'm sorry that happened r95. You sound like you were a devoted child to them both, and them to you. Very lucky indeed.

R95 at least they could have peace with the fact that they had a child who loved them and cared for them and didn't let them rot away in some nursing home. I think we'd all be lucky to have you for a child.

OP, thank you for this thread. I keep coming back to it. I need to get up the nerve to post to it.

I know r98, me too.

I got blond highlights in my hair the day before we had reservations for dinner at a fabulously hard-to-get-into restaurant. The highlights were not the color I wanted, more golden rather than the subtle honey-toned shade I was hoping for. [italic]Devastating[/italic]. I was so traumatized, I couldn’t enjoy my meal at the restaurant the next night, which cost close to $4,500.00, not including the tip.

How can there be such evil and horror in the world?

Finding out my father, sister and brother had terminal cancer - when I was 23, 33 and 48. It’s a searing moment that is like no other. The death isn’t as shocking. It’s the initial news that makes your heart feel like it’s being ripped apart.

One moment that I keep going back to in my mind happened in 1983 when I was eight years old. I was a latchkey-kid. My older brother went to private school and I went to the public school close by. My mom was a single mom with just us two boys. In the morning we would all get ready but my mom had to drive my brother to school. I remember standing in my room looking out the window, barely tall enough to see out of it, watching my mother and brother walk away to the car. I was all alone. I was sad and scared to see them go. I think I even cried. But I knew I had to finish getting ready for the third grade, pack my backpack and close up the house behind me and walk to school. It’s the first time I remember being sad and affraid BUT havingn to push through that and be a big boy because of something I had to do, with no one to comfort me through it.

And I was fiercely protective of my mother even at that age. But she wasn’t the best house keeper. Actually our place was very cluttered, messy, embarrassing. But I didn’t want anyone else to see how we lived because I didn’t want them to judge my mother. I remember two instances, dark moments from this.

My dad would pick me up for our weekend visits. He would drop of the child support check as well. I was alone and he came to pick me up but insisted on walking through our apartment to put it on the dining room table. I remember trying to stop him or come up with an excuse for him not to come in. But he came in anyway. I was mortified by what he say. He later explained to me in the car that he knew all about that. It was one of the reasons he and my mom divorced. I still felt ashamed. But now I just feel sad for me at that age. Of course he knew. But I was literally terrified by someone finding out.

And on the same note. We never had anybody over for that reason. And one of my friends from school wanted to come inside. Again I was trying to come up with a million excuses as to why she couldn’t. But she persisted. And I remember her trying to peer through the blinds and me slapping her to stop her. I’m not a violent person. But the terror of a classmate finding out how we lived (even at 8 years old) was so overwhelming.

Even to this day I could never tell my mom these stories because her heartbreak over them would be too much for me, at 45, to bear.

Walking in from work about 5 pm and finding a message on the answering machine that my lover was in the hospital and I needed to get there immediately . I ran out the door so fast I didnt even close it ,and broke every traffic law imaginable , but he had been dead before they even called . Car wreck ,and to this day I dont know what happened . I dont remember the hours that followed once I got there ,I mainly remember being bent over in a chair sobbing while a kind nurse rubbed my back . The same nurse helped me make arrangements for a funeral home to pick him up (dont really remember that either) . I remember driving up to my house at 4 am and the front door was wide open (with the air on!) and the roast in the crock pot burnt to a crisp . From that point on I lost my mind for almost a year. I refused to see anyone,talk to anyone or handle anything . If not for the one friend I did see ,I would have lost all touch with reality . I realize now I thought if I just didnt acknowledge it ,none of it would be real . I wasnt "normal" again for years .That was 26 years ago and it still affects me at times when I think about it .

[quote] We were beyond poor white trash. Pasta with butter. .

R44, that's actually the way it is eaten in a true Italian or gourmet way. Rub a garlic clove to coat the bowl, fill it with hot pasta and butter. Let the butter melt and then add parmesan. Perfection. See you weren't poor you were old school class without the money.

r44 I just ate a largish bowl of pasta with butter and crushed garlic, prepared just the way r105 describes. Delish! Simple and easy. No need to feel shame about it. Entire meal probably cost me a buck.

I hope you're doing better now R82.

[quote]And my same mother

Oh, dear.

I am so sorry for your mother's coffee stain and slip on the ice. I am glad a kind lady taught me English before she died so I could tell you. Such a sad life you have had.

R3 he saw his mother humiliated and saw the woman who he thought was his pillar of strength childlike and vulnerable...obviously as a kid he couldn't not process it

It’s such a traumatic memory and moment that I honestly can’t remember when exactly it happened – but I remember it happened, and sensing it was devastating – the moment when, as a very young and innocent boy, with no knowledge or understanding of such things, I realized my father was disappointed I was (and invariably destined to always be) an effeminate boy, a “sissy.”

R110 I'm so sorry you carry that memory but I understand. I had the same experience.

Sincere and heartfelt thank you, R111.

Cheers.

Aw, you're okay, R110

I had the same moment with my dad, R110 - I was 7 or 8 and I remember it all quite clearly too. My dad was a good father in many ways, and now I try and temper the memory with the fact that he grew up in a very different world.

My trick appeared dead when I looked up from eating his ass, at Christmas.