Hi everyone. I don't know if I have PTSD but I might. I've had nightmares all my life about being abandoned, ridiculed, disliked, and ignored. I was frequently afraid of people. I frequently have experiences where I'm driving down the road or grocery shopping and my mind randomly goes to an event from the past and I relive it and get upset all over again. I don't know a lot about PTSD, and previously thought it was something that only war veterans got. In general I always felt guilty or overly dramatic for saying I've had any damaging effect from my relationship with my dad.
My dad was never formally diagnosed with any mental illness and to this day my family would deny it. They'd say he just has a temper. And that he's "traditional." And that he's Italian, and that's how Italian men are. And HE had a bad father. And he's just tired, or he has had bad luck in his career not getting what he wants. I really think that his behavior was probably bipolar disorder or something sort of like that.
We (my brother and I) got hit when we were little. But it wasn't like a movie...we didn't get beaten until we bruised or bled or had broken bones. It was just, you know, doors taken off our bedrooms, back packs full of books thrown at our heads, random screaming about how he wanted to blow his head off because life sucked so much or that "these two kids [us] should be thrown in the trash." He wasn't a drunk or a deadbeat. He provided for us well and we were "upper middle class." So if I complained about anything he did, then I was ungrateful.
To this day, I'm still not sure if I should be hurt by all of this. I'm afraid of being like him. He never got help so I've gone a lot to help myself and make sure I'm living my life in a way that is consistent with reality. I'm 31, and had to live at home for the last four years due to a digestive condition I had, and 2 years ago (when I was 29) I had the flu and was upset and crying to my mom and he came storming upstairs from the basement and dragged me by my neck up a flight of stairs and held me down on the bed and screamed in my ear that I'd better take care of myself and get better and quit whining. I was so petrified and in shock that he'd do this to me while i was 1) an adult well beyond the age of deserving to deal with this and 2) sick! I was living at home because I couldn't work due to illness and was awaiting an operation. (I had my operations and got better, and I work now, and am moving out this weekend. yay!)
Don't know what to do though. My dad and I barely say two sentences per month to each other. Last night I asked him if I had to reset the router for the internet. Today he asked me whose laptop I was using, and I said "mine." (He didn't even know I bought one.) That's it. I don't want him to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, and I don't want to sit and have a chit chat with him. I don't want to be friends. I feel like an asshole for it. Why don't I like him? Why can't I just get over it? I feel like such a brat. He's sick. He can't help it. Other people in our family like him, even my brother. Maybe they just get along because my brother lives 1000 miles away and I'm here all the time. It's hard to say. Everybody says he's fine, and that I'm the one with the problem. Maybe that's true. Maybe he's just a tempermental Italian man and I'm an impatient brat who asks too much.
Any thoughts? Help please....
My dad was never formally diagnosed with any mental illness and to this day my family would deny it. They'd say he just has a temper. And that he's "traditional." And that he's Italian, and that's how Italian men are. And HE had a bad father. And he's just tired, or he has had bad luck in his career not getting what he wants. I really think that his behavior was probably bipolar disorder or something sort of like that.
We (my brother and I) got hit when we were little. But it wasn't like a movie...we didn't get beaten until we bruised or bled or had broken bones. It was just, you know, doors taken off our bedrooms, back packs full of books thrown at our heads, random screaming about how he wanted to blow his head off because life sucked so much or that "these two kids [us] should be thrown in the trash." He wasn't a drunk or a deadbeat. He provided for us well and we were "upper middle class." So if I complained about anything he did, then I was ungrateful.
To this day, I'm still not sure if I should be hurt by all of this. I'm afraid of being like him. He never got help so I've gone a lot to help myself and make sure I'm living my life in a way that is consistent with reality. I'm 31, and had to live at home for the last four years due to a digestive condition I had, and 2 years ago (when I was 29) I had the flu and was upset and crying to my mom and he came storming upstairs from the basement and dragged me by my neck up a flight of stairs and held me down on the bed and screamed in my ear that I'd better take care of myself and get better and quit whining. I was so petrified and in shock that he'd do this to me while i was 1) an adult well beyond the age of deserving to deal with this and 2) sick! I was living at home because I couldn't work due to illness and was awaiting an operation. (I had my operations and got better, and I work now, and am moving out this weekend. yay!)
Don't know what to do though. My dad and I barely say two sentences per month to each other. Last night I asked him if I had to reset the router for the internet. Today he asked me whose laptop I was using, and I said "mine." (He didn't even know I bought one.) That's it. I don't want him to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, and I don't want to sit and have a chit chat with him. I don't want to be friends. I feel like an asshole for it. Why don't I like him? Why can't I just get over it? I feel like such a brat. He's sick. He can't help it. Other people in our family like him, even my brother. Maybe they just get along because my brother lives 1000 miles away and I'm here all the time. It's hard to say. Everybody says he's fine, and that I'm the one with the problem. Maybe that's true. Maybe he's just a tempermental Italian man and I'm an impatient brat who asks too much.
Any thoughts? Help please....
