Konjac
Specialist
- Oct 25, 2020
- 301
No idea how to feel, my head is a mess. I wasn't as close with him as we were before due to both of our own personal mental health issues driving us away from each other. I'm currently inpatient for the exact same reason, but they managed to resuscitate me. They couldn't manage with him. I need to vent so please put up with this ramble. I have nobody else to talk to.
I found out this morning, my mum and sister came to visit. Sat me down and tried to break it gently but since then I've just been sobbing. The last time we spoke it was just half an hour of him shouting abuse down the phone because his paranoia made him think that I was part of this big conspiracy against him. That call triggered my most recent attempt, and I resented him for abandoning me. For refusing to even communicate with me for a year. But I still loved him and never gave up on the hope of him maybe getting some help and returning back to the same dad I always knew.
These past few years, he'd changed. Years of drug abuse, trauma and mental illness had taken its toll and he became completely wrecked with paranoia. He had three inpatient admissions during 2018, it got so bad. In 2020 me and my mother had to flee to a domestic abuse shelter, not because he abused us but because it was just constant mindfucking. Punching walls, breaking doors, false accusations rooted in that paranoia. He scared me at that time. I often stood at the top of the stairs with 999 pre-dialled in one hand and a knife in the other when my parents were arguing just in case things were taken too far. Since then our relationship was strained, but we still had one. I'd still come to visit him at least once a week and we'd have great chats. It seemed like he was improving. Until they got worse, he cut me off due to my struggles with self harm. For a year we didn't speak, until that one phone call a few weeks ago.
We asked the neighbours today what had happened with his cats. She's taking good care of them, they were practically hers anyways. Sweet old lady that we've all known for as long as I remember. Apparently these past few weeks, something was building up. She'd become the target of his delusions and he apparently yelled at her for nothing whenever he saw her, thinking she was sent to harass him. This Monday, people saw him burning papers and trinkets in a fire. Tuesday night, he slipped a note under the other neighbour's door saying to call the police in the morning. She did just that when she saw the note and they found him alive but having overdosed on a large amount of tablets. They took him to the hospital from there, and at 8PM the next day they found him with a ligature around his neck. They tried to resuscitate him, but he was pronounced dead half an hour later.
He died alone and in pain, in a hospital, having no idea what he really did mean to so many people. He died thinking I hated him but it was the opposite, I love him. He means the world to me and I just want him back, I want one last chance to talk things through with him, to repair our relationship. I miss everything about him. I miss those dumb but also wildly deep conversations we'd have about life and existence. He loved telling me about the latest conspiracies he'd seen on that 'Ancient Aliens' show. He always listened to me when I was having issues and knew the right things to say to calm me down. He was my shoulder to cry on for so long. It was always the highlight of my week going over to his for a cheeky blunt and a nice chat over a cup of tea. There's so many memories that I can't even begin to list them. I don't think my life will ever be the same.
Part of me thinks it's my fault, that I could've stopped him, but he had his mind set on it. I hope that he's somewhere nice. He always told me how he believed in a judgement day, that good would always triumph over evil. I think he's going somewhere lovely, I'm going to tell myself that to cope. He's up there somewhere having the time of his life, cured from all the physical and mental ailments that brought him down in life. More than anything I want to follow along and join him, that's why I've been on here for the past two years, but something's stopping me. Now I know how it feels to lose someone close to suicide, I can't put my family through even more of this pain. I just want to join him. I miss him so much. I want to tell him how sorry I am for being such a shitty son, that from now on I really will try to make him proud. And I hope he watches over me as I do just that, as I achieve all the things I said I would.
I love you, dad.
I found out this morning, my mum and sister came to visit. Sat me down and tried to break it gently but since then I've just been sobbing. The last time we spoke it was just half an hour of him shouting abuse down the phone because his paranoia made him think that I was part of this big conspiracy against him. That call triggered my most recent attempt, and I resented him for abandoning me. For refusing to even communicate with me for a year. But I still loved him and never gave up on the hope of him maybe getting some help and returning back to the same dad I always knew.
These past few years, he'd changed. Years of drug abuse, trauma and mental illness had taken its toll and he became completely wrecked with paranoia. He had three inpatient admissions during 2018, it got so bad. In 2020 me and my mother had to flee to a domestic abuse shelter, not because he abused us but because it was just constant mindfucking. Punching walls, breaking doors, false accusations rooted in that paranoia. He scared me at that time. I often stood at the top of the stairs with 999 pre-dialled in one hand and a knife in the other when my parents were arguing just in case things were taken too far. Since then our relationship was strained, but we still had one. I'd still come to visit him at least once a week and we'd have great chats. It seemed like he was improving. Until they got worse, he cut me off due to my struggles with self harm. For a year we didn't speak, until that one phone call a few weeks ago.
We asked the neighbours today what had happened with his cats. She's taking good care of them, they were practically hers anyways. Sweet old lady that we've all known for as long as I remember. Apparently these past few weeks, something was building up. She'd become the target of his delusions and he apparently yelled at her for nothing whenever he saw her, thinking she was sent to harass him. This Monday, people saw him burning papers and trinkets in a fire. Tuesday night, he slipped a note under the other neighbour's door saying to call the police in the morning. She did just that when she saw the note and they found him alive but having overdosed on a large amount of tablets. They took him to the hospital from there, and at 8PM the next day they found him with a ligature around his neck. They tried to resuscitate him, but he was pronounced dead half an hour later.
He died alone and in pain, in a hospital, having no idea what he really did mean to so many people. He died thinking I hated him but it was the opposite, I love him. He means the world to me and I just want him back, I want one last chance to talk things through with him, to repair our relationship. I miss everything about him. I miss those dumb but also wildly deep conversations we'd have about life and existence. He loved telling me about the latest conspiracies he'd seen on that 'Ancient Aliens' show. He always listened to me when I was having issues and knew the right things to say to calm me down. He was my shoulder to cry on for so long. It was always the highlight of my week going over to his for a cheeky blunt and a nice chat over a cup of tea. There's so many memories that I can't even begin to list them. I don't think my life will ever be the same.
Part of me thinks it's my fault, that I could've stopped him, but he had his mind set on it. I hope that he's somewhere nice. He always told me how he believed in a judgement day, that good would always triumph over evil. I think he's going somewhere lovely, I'm going to tell myself that to cope. He's up there somewhere having the time of his life, cured from all the physical and mental ailments that brought him down in life. More than anything I want to follow along and join him, that's why I've been on here for the past two years, but something's stopping me. Now I know how it feels to lose someone close to suicide, I can't put my family through even more of this pain. I just want to join him. I miss him so much. I want to tell him how sorry I am for being such a shitty son, that from now on I really will try to make him proud. And I hope he watches over me as I do just that, as I achieve all the things I said I would.
I love you, dad.
