Misery

I'm living my own version of it with my father

My father turns 80 this week. Somehow. He’s abused his body and neglected his health his whole life. He’s an alcoholic and had a liver transplant in the 90’s. The alcoholic traits remain, unfortunately. But that’s only a glimpse of what I’m dealing with.

I love to write, and I find doing so is often cathartic for topics like this. I don’t like complaining, and that’s all I’ve got right now. I’ve been painted into a corner by my dad because I’m normally the most positive person around. I’ve gotten awards for my positivity at work. But I’m finding maintaining my smile is proving impossible.

You’ve got to learn the history here before we get into the freak show I find myself in.

I’m an only child, an only grandchild, and my mother died from leukemia when I was 14 and she was 39. My dad is the same age. I’m now 55, and he’s about to celebrate his 80th birthday by getting a Watchman installed to prop up his pacemaker. He had to have one installed when his pulse went to zero, according to him. Don’t ask me how that worked exactly.

My mother came from a well-to-do, intelligent, educated, and highly respected family. My dad seems to have been tossed to the wolves when he was 1. My grandmother was pregnant with my aunt and had another 2-year-old when my grandfather died/was killed. No one will say except my dad told me a graphic story once that I don’t know if it's true or not. He lies. And steals. It's not something I would personally do to set examples for my kid, but whatever. I don’t lie or steal, which drives him nuts. Reality has become his enemy, and I often have to be blunt with him.

Which ended up not mattering. He can’t communicate, neither receiver nor transmitter. He hears me say things I do not say, and when I pause the conversation to point that out, he just shrugs. He’s not even listening. So that’s a problem. Every problem in life between people and in business and elsewhere comes down to communication breakdown somewhere. I know that well, and I majored in English and pride myself in expressing ideas to others. He has no such ability. So there’s that.

So, my father had no father figure growing up. My grandmother married a Jewish banker as a trophy wife and seemed to forget she had my dad as a child. As a result, he’s always just done what he feels like. No reason, no consequences, no responsibility, no discipline, no nothing.

Especially no moral compass or religion of any sort. He’d go to synagogue with his mother and stepfather, for some reason, a few times. But he hates the idea of religion of any type. Not having ANY moral compass presents a host of huge problems for people. Those without them and those around them.

I’m not saying you need to be devout, but my mother attended the Presbyterian church, where I was raised. My father refused to attend, so it was always just me and Mama. I’m sure that wasn’t embarrassing for her.

The most awkward thing? When my mom became sick, guess who stepped up to the plate to help take care of me? The church. And I lived with two families while my mother was being treated up at Johns Hopkins. Lord knows where my dad was. But he had to acknowledge these people who took care of his only child for him. Did he thank them, ever? No. He expected it and felt entitled for them to agree to take care of me and even adopt me if something should have ever happened to both parents before I turned 18. He never even talked to them. Just like the parents of my girlfriends. Which was fine with me considering, although I was mortified by the lack of social skills and common courtesy and decorum that displayed. I still keep people as far from this house and him as possible, which is pretty easy since he doesn’t know anyone. Awkward to the bone. Which I can handle. But deliberate ignorance is something I cannot.

He wasn’t ever “good at school,” but I tend to think he never paid attention and scraped by getting out of high school by the skin of his teeth. He learned nothing. No English, Math, History, Chemistry, Biology, or even hygiene. He can’t write emails, for example with any literacy or composition or format. I explained they keep hospitals so cold to keep bacteria down and for hygenic reasons, which he scoffed at. Knowing why we have refrigeration and the impact it has on the spread of bacteria is 3rd-grade science, for another example. It never ends. And as a result, every project he tries ends up a disaster. He can’t measure accurately and isn’t rigorous about anything.

The amount of money I’ve seen him spend on projects he thinks he can do for some reason is something DOGE would look at. Every one has been a failure, and the house has become a shrine to that failure over about 45 years. Junk everywhere. You can’t even navigate some rooms. And he’s had a huge metal shed and crap built out back that trees fell on, and cars he had that once were driveable and nice are now rust hulls with no engine sitting in the yard. With the dryers. Excuse me; one old dryer is in the backyard; one is sitting in the driveway with an old sink sitting on top, next to my daughter’s prized belongings he won’t allow in the house. Next to an engine hoist and a garbage can and… It’s first-class all the way.

So I would doubt he graduated from HS, except he has some things around the house with the Albany HS name on it. That could have been my mother’s class, who went to the same HS, where they met, eventually married, and lived a pretty meager existence thanks to his contribution, which was nothing. I’ve honestly never seen the man work an honest day in my life. My mom busted ass, got her CPA, and was a special agent for the IRS before getting sick in about 1981.

He never went to college, enlisted in the Army to escape having to think for himself, and came back (he didn’t even tell his frantic mother he was coming back from Vietnam- he just showed up back at home), where my mother had to ask HIM to get married.

That was a bad move on her part. I’m convinced had she not died (which I still find weird), she would have divorced him. All signs pointed to it. She was reading books on how to cope with his alcoholism as if it was her responsibility, poor thing. I was leafing through one just the other day and read a passage she underlined. It was about how the alcoholic would disappear for days with no thought and then return randomly but be “too pathetic to be scolded.”

And no one would have blamed her. Her parents hated my father. And her dad basically raised me, thank the sweet Lord. If not for him, there’s no telling where I’d be now. He took the reigns since my dad wouldn’t. No skillz.

I may as well delve into that area. My dad worked as a gas station attendant and delivery driver when he was younger. Early 20s when he got back from Vietnam. The military really taught him some good skills. Not. He even told some stories that rendered him an employee you wouldn’t want. Taking customers’ cars for drag racing, goofing off, etc.… And he went into the Army, and he told me most people going into the Army back then were doing it to escape jail or the mental institution or some dire consequences.

But when he got married, he needed a real job, so his uncle gave him a job as a traveling salesman, although it was more like a mobile technician, who got commissions when customers ordered equipment, which they had to do. This was back when there were only landlines. And the company was FAR away from my dad’s territory, so he was on permanent vacation. He drank and lept off the drinking and drove around the state, and that’s about it.

His uncle sold the company to the Japanese, and my dad was laid off, of course. If there was ever a place to cut costs in that company, it was these people. But my dad just couldn’t understand it! He floundered and eventually got his liver transplant at the University of Virginia. (We live in South Carolina. I was born in Atlanta. My family is from Albany, Georgia.) Most people are up and back at work in a week. He never worked again.

He filed a fraudulent disability claim and lived off that until he could get to social security, which he lives off now. That illustrates an interesting human phenomenon in that people don’t appreciate what they get for free. He spends money like a drunk poet on payday and blames the government, or probably me, for never having any money. He inherited a ton, incidentally, and my mother left him a lot, but it’s long gone and was gone in a flash with nothing to show for it. Everything he touches turns to flies. EVERYTHING. Which is why I am now in my room with the door shut and want nothing to do with him. That doesn’t matter to him, however, and he can’t take a huge hint when told to stay away and learn boundaries and how to stay behind them. But again, it’s like talking to a tree. While the tree yells and cusses and throws things at you and blames you for the Sun coming up.

I went off to an “elite” boarding school and spent my time growing up with “upper-class” features. Going to the Masters(my grandfather was on the list), summering in NH, having beach houses in 3 states, etc.… Despite my dad passing out with a beer can in his hand back home. It was a serious contrast that has persisted our whole lives. And I think my perspective freaks him out. He has no social skills. None. He’s never participated in society, mostly due to his narcissism. It’s a characteristic of his time on this Earth. Most people call it a life, but that would be stretching it here.

Growing up, all my friends’ dads were CEOs, surgeons, titans of business, pillars of society and within the church, and highly respected men. I lived with the Secretary of Defense and the first Secretary of Energy ever one Summer in Arlington, VA. Their skills were in high demand, to put it mildly. I hung out with the owner of the Redskins in Middleburg, VA, and NE Patriots up in NH at our lake house on Lake Winnipesaukee (Wolfeboro), who my grandfather was buddies with. And that’s what my friends saw at their homes. So when they asked me what my dad did for a living, my reaction was “Um…..nothing.” I’m not asking for pride, but please not humiliation. Which it completely was.

You’d think he’d volunteer having that much time, and there may have been a time when that was possible. He’s become so toxic now that no one would want him around. But it would be a true liability. I would be trying to help another, which isn’t on his radar. I’m big into volunteering, and I’ve done it a lot. Coincidentally, I worked with chronically mentally challenged adults, who I helped work so they could make money and feel good about themselves. I helped them put stickers on plastic hydroponic lettuce containers. My dad hasn’t worked as much as those folks did. I also did the Special Olympics, the ASPCA, the Charleston Aquarium, and a bunch of others. I like to help people to a fault, it now seems.

Here’s a story of a child and his father that will warm your heart:

I always played sports growing up. For my high school(s), I played football, basketball, golf, and tennis. When I went off, I played even more than that: wrestling, squash, and lacrosse.

My dad is no athlete. He was strong, though, and the fact he’s lived like a roach for 80 years says something. I don’t know what, but something.

My mother was really strong and fit but never played sports that I know of. I don’t know where I got it. I’m not saying I was good, just that I played! My mother never drank or smoked and was a health nut. Almost a hippie, she was so crunchy. That’s why her dying so young, and my dad making it to 80 blows my mind.

Anyway, the VERY small private school I attended at home was about a mile from our house. So I walked there and back a lot. I walked back nearly every day with football pads and a pile of books(there weren’t even bookbags in the 80s!). My mom was at work, and my dad was off drinking somewhere around the South, calling it “work.” Going to strip clubs and getting drunk with clients in Atlanta was a favorite of his. “Because that’s what we did then” is his terrible excuse. Going to strip clubs. Classy.

He never came to my games, which I didn’t even think about. By then, his negligence was normalized to me. He stayed home in a blue rocking chair, in front of a TV downstairs, in front of the den window, where a door we used to enter is, and in front of the driveway. I never expected nor received support from him, ever, in anything. And I have/had a lot of interests in my life.

So, one Friday night, I had a basketball game, which ended at about 10:00 pm. Everyone starts pouring out of the gym, and the lights start going off, and the parking lot empties and there’s no dad. All that’s left are me and the headmistress in a giant, empty, dark basketball gym/stage, who wondered what happened to my dad? It was cold outside, too being the winter - too cold to walk home in what I had on after a game. So she shut everything down, locked it all up, and took me home herself. I was mortified. It was then about 11 PM, so I had an hour to wonder what awaited me at home and hang out with the headmistress, which no 9th grader wanted to do.

We pull up in the driveway, and her headlights shine right through the front window, with the spotlight on a passed-out man sitting in front of a TV with a beer can in his hand. So I thank Mrs. Robinson for the ride and go up to the door, and she waits for me to go inside before leaving to make sure I get in safely. The problem was he locked me out.

So I had to kick in the door to my own house, with my headmistress watching. Did I mention I was only in 9th grade?

He abandoned me often. And as far as I’ve counted, has come inches from killing me 5 times in my life from electrocution, drunk driving, half-assed (probably drunk) work around the house that caused a railroad tie to fall on my head and deliberately endangering my health to the point I now have Type 2 diabetes. He just laughs and hasn’t even asked about it. Who cares?! It’s just his son.

Back to the fun:

So my dad never went to college, which isn’t a crime, as long as you still learn as you proceed through life. That’s where he made a bad decision, which was to never accumulate knowledge or learn anything. Ever.

I graduated from HS and went on to college, and grad school and got my MBA and have worked a lot of good jobs and made a lot of money. Which I have now spent on my daughter’s legal bills, whose mother has kidnapped her with the aid of an activist judge. It’s terrible. The most awful thing that’s happened in my life, believe it or not. It’s my primary mission in life to fix it. But I digress. Just keep in mind I have some major fires I’m battling. My dad refuses to even ask what I have going on in my life because he doesn’t care. The same goes for his little granddaughter, which I’ll get to.

Or I may as well dive into it now. He pretends he doesn’t have one. He won’t call her, or acknowledge she was born. His problem is he was cornered into meeting up with her about 5 years ago. So she’s seen him and knows he’s alive. And she wants to love him with all her heart, which I’ve told my dad.

His response is making me keep all her most precious things out in the driveway under a tarp. (Including 2 multi-thousand dollar oriental rugs that are now ruined.) I can’t call her or write her thanks to an evil Jefferson County Family Court judge: Christine Ward. But he can. And he could explain why we haven’t been able to see one another for 4 years now. He’s the only one who can do that, and he refuses. He won’t even talk about her. His only grandchild and the sweetest most precious thing this family or her mother’s has ever seen. That makes him seem evil to me. That’s not dementia, or any other excuse available. It’s black-hearted hatred.

Allow me to back up about 15 years from this point. I’ve been married twice. The first time was an admitted mutual mistake. The second was a case of me getting used, BAD.

But in both cases, you know how the groom’s father usually pays for a few things? Not here. I had to buy and pay for everything, and the first wedding was a doozie. My father-in-law went to the Naval Academy, then Rennsalear became an engineer, ran multiple firms across the state he’d fry his pwn plane to, and then went BACK to medical school and became an oral surgeon and the head of oral surgery at Hilton Head Regional. Our neighbor was a top lawyer for Coca-Cola. My dad spends most of his day lying in bed watching TV as far as I can tell. So you see the dichotomy I deal with?

Along the way to marriage 2, he told me some pretty big lies. One was that if I moved to Montgomery AL, where his sister lives, he would move there, too. He needed to get out of this house when he had the chance. My aunt offered to pay for and do EVERYTHING, even buy or build him a house to live in for free. It was an answer to prayers. And he declined.

I, however, held up my end of the bargain, moved to that dreadful city, and even renovated a house his sister bought for him, which I ended up living in while I fixed it up. She ended up selling it, and my dad chose to rot away in a place he can’t afford, can’t maintain, is now a place DHEC would quarantine, and he has no plans. He takes life one minute at a time like a dog. He keeps 2 large filthy ones in his room and a deformed cat. Smells great, and I don’t even like going near it. You can smell them with the door closed in there. The pound smells better, in other words. He lets them out about every half hour to give himself something to do. He ties one up right in front of the door, so delivery drivers can’t deliver my things I need for my income. He’s had 5 people tell him to do something about them, including the police. And they’re still there. I even bought him a new stake so he can put them in the large backyard, instead of the front, near the road.

My first dog ended up getting run over When I was about 13 (I got her when I was 4, but it seemed like we were together forever. Because, to my young self, we had been.) because she wasn’t on a leash when he took her walking. That dog, Scratchy, was my best friend growing up. He just told me how much that upset him a few weeks ago. So what does he do with his dog he found? Let it run out in the road and roam free with no care. You can’t make this stuff up!

Which explains why THREE dryers are sitting around the yard. One was brand new. He’s killing them because the clothes and bedding he’s washing and drying are too heavy duty because of the dogs and it’s burning out the dryers. I pulled a 3-inch thick, 2-foot long strip of filth out of the dryer vent of the last dryer, we had for about a month before he killed it.

He expected me to do all the work for the last one, which I pushed back to him as a responsibility and he had an emotive outburst that lasted weeks. Totally inappropriate with no boundaries or gratitude.

So I got married the second time to a young lady who had a child from a previous marriage. I footed the bill for that ordeal, too. I was the cheapest son anyone’s ever had for my dad. My grandfather paid for everything and took me around and gave me golf and tennis lessons and took me to show me off at the clubs to his friends, and even named a development company after me! He truly loved me, and my dad talked trash about him my whole life and still does. He never called him by his first name. He still refers to him as “Mr. Thomas.” How pathetic is that? Anyone more successful is garbage to my dad, including me, quite clearly. And in reality that includes probably anyone you know. He loves to judge and talk trash about my friends, my friend’s parents, my uncle, my grandfather, and people in general who have drive and goals in life.

My recent wife was 29 at the time we married I think (we started dating when she was 26 and dated for 3 years) and her daughter was about the same age as ours, now. I helped raise her for 10 years while her mom got her PhD and a tenured professor job. Days after getting tenure, she ghosted with the girls, withdrew all the money, and left everything behind including me, without a word. Which was all mine anyway that I had brought into the marriage. But there was a lot. We never fought. She never expressed displeasure. She just needed an older guy to give her credibility in school and take care of her child, then ours and her child, until she was secure enough to leave. That’s all marriage is for women at the end of the day: security. For men, it’s love. Not American females.

But when I married, I realized how toxic my father was. The chickens were coming home to roost as my aunt put it. He was no good around children, and I recognized his negativity would sabotage my new family I was so proud of. So I cut ties. It was a relaxing time with him absent. No one missed each other, despite my cousin doing her best to tearfully reunite us. She didn’t get it and never could. That got a bit old and culminated with me being manipulated.

I did a lot of introspection after that divorce. What did I do wrong? What more could I have done? Was she cheating? She had before(with the husband of my boss, and another PhD candidate I was about to embark on a project with, which was cozy). What happened? She sure wasn’t talking about it. Her claim in court was that I was emotionally abusive. I find that reflective more than indictive coming from her, now. I figured it all out, but it took a while. TL/DR: I got used, bad. She took the notes directly from her sister who did the same thing right after becoming/getting a job as a nurse anesthesiologist a few years prior. I was at her wedding. She now has 10 divorces in her immediate family. TEN!! Marriage is like dating to those 4 people. So her security needs were then met, too.

Fast forward 10 years and I’m now divorced. The stepdaughter was grown. All that remained was my daughter and myself. And my father wants nothing to do with his only granddaughter, remember.

We lived in Louisville, KY, where we moved when married for my wife’s new job. I hated it there. I’m from SC, and lived in some of the most beautiful places around, all over the South. I loved Beaufort. And she “said” we could move back here if I wanted. Whatever. She had no intention of leaving that cushy job. Especially for my and our daughter’s well-being. Not to mention a serious upgrade in quality of life for everyone. I have hundreds of premade little friends for her. In KY? She has about 2 people her mom makes her hang out with. And she has to take her to their houses because the parents fear for their welfare at her mother’s. I got two messages on Facebook from ladies telling me that. Not what a Daddy wants to hear. I told her attorney, and he told her, and she firebombed them.

Back to Annie my dad and my tale of Misery.

So, right between the divorce, during the proceedings, and then subsequent insanity by my ex, and reuniting with my dad online, which was a few years, I was stuck in Louisville, mainly because I kept telling myself I would not abandon Cecelia, my daughter. (My mother’s name was Cecelia, so It was an honor to be able to name her that. My ex has now taken it upon herself to rename her “Celia” to disrespect my mother. This is the type of people I have in my life. She tried to have me held in contempt of court for “disparagement” because I gave our daughter a book to learn how to read for Christmas. I kid you not. We had to go to the judge and waste everyone’s time for that, which isn’t unusual.) But I haven’t even gotten to the best/worst part yet.

I worked long hours in Louisville at Amazon and also had everything dear to me stolen or broken at a UHaul storage unit. So I was coping with that as well and dealing with the legal aspects of that. U-Haul was liable but the insurance company denied the claim. In the following weeks, they spent about $100,000 on security, after saying the security was great. They had 1 camera and it was pointed at the office. Among other face-palm aspects that just begged for theft. The gate was knocked down for weeks. But that was devastating.

I was saving money and filing motions to try and help my daughter this whole time. It’s my prime directive and everything I do is for her benefit. She has no idea because her mother is standing between us and I haven’t spoken or seen her in years now. She probably thinks I’m dead which is what her mom wants. Even more devastating.

My life was going downhill, fast. I’d never planned on staying up in Louisville because we’d agreed we wouldn’t(stupid me) so I never really made many friends up there. Plus this was when things politically became unprecedentedly insane with the division created in the US. Louisville is very BLUE. I am what most leftists would probably call MAGA, although I have no idea what that’s supposed to even mean. Because I’m conservative? A slur because I love America? I’ve never understood that term, other than wanting to make America Great. When I grew up in the 70s and 80s it was great. Now it still is, but only for more foundational reasons. Everything fun, good, and wholesome has been destroyed or removed from society. Comedy was even wrecked. And that’s what I was among up there. Very angry people in a very violent city who live off public injury settlements. And the homeless! It wasn’t what I’d call nice, comparatively. It’s not for me in any way.

Sorry for the “political talk” if that upsets you. As I was just saying, people are a lot less tolerant fun in 2025 than in 1985.

As I talked to my dad from up there, at the end of 2024, I realized his mental ability, where there was any, is beginning to go. And I know he hasn’t done a single thing in the decades since I’ve lived in this house. I had no idea.

I arranged to move back down here and help him get his crap in order last Fall. That is a VERY generous offer, just working on the house alone, never mind him. He explicitly told me I was welcome here. That was a lie. I’ve never felt as unwelcome anywhere in my life. And it becomes more apparent daily.

So I hired movers, packed up everything I have left, which is still a ton which I’m thankful for, and pulled a reverse Beverly Hillbillies in my 26-foot truck and trailer with my SUV on it, also packed to the hilt with things. I took a photo of it all and sent it ahead to show what I was bringing. I explained it was a lot.

So, after 20 years away from my beloved SC, I moved home. My sweet cat I have had for 18 years also disappeared during the move, which I’m still upset about. I miss her. She was originally my ex-wife’s which she adopted as a kitten in grad school to kiss her advisor’s butt. And then basically pushed her off on me. I typically am not a fan of cats but she was an exception. I loved her and really miss her, she was so sweet.

So my arrival at the gates of Hell at my dad’s house was done. And what do you know? He didn’t make any room for me to put anything. The whole house is full of garbage, but my dad doesn’t know how to go vertical, so all the square footage is piles of crap.

I managed to get as much as I could fit in here and had to leave the rest in the driveway. This is where the trouble began.

I had to move some of the crap to make room for my things and that didn’t go over well at all. There’s a ton of room, mind you, but it’s all strewn with garbage of every type. It’s not orgaized or anything. "The producers of “Hoarders” wouldn’t shoot here because it’s too depressing.

My dad had a major, inappropriate, spontaneous and telling emotive outburst; called me stupid over and over; cussed at me; and made threats towards me. This is behavior he’s adopted from watching COPS all day and night I’m thinking. It’s very trashy. And it’s only gotten worse since this point.

He actually apologized “for what he said” which was a first, ever. Unfortunately what people say means nothing to me anymore. Especially those who will lie to me without apology. What they do matters. And he doesn’t realize the consequences of his actions.

During this time I was cleaning and fixing up this house day and night. I spent thousands of dollars on updates, cleaned the walls and then disinfected the entire house. All the walls looked like someone sneezed coffee on them for the past 45 years. It was nasty. I bought rugs, as the hardwoods have all been ruined by his animals peeing on them. Now those rugs are getting ruined. New lighting fixtures, sinks, doorknobs, you name it.

There is no ceiling in the downstairs bathroom. There was a leak coming from my bathroom upstairs that had been leaking since the last time I was here, 20 years ago. Same leak. Nothing done. How much has all that water cost? It’s amazing to a person who works for every penny to see the carefree attitude towards money that was simply given to them. It’s like air to them. Next room over: holes all in the ceiling from a plumbing lean from his bathroom. Never fixed. All the tools and everything imaginable to fix it was bought and now sit among the piles. It all looks great.

That’s a habit he has: wait until something breaks rather than maintain it, spend as much money as possible on tools and equipment to fix it, then don’t. He has 11 measuring tapes for example. He bought a bunch od DeWalt tools, which is a pricy brand, and doesn’t know the difference between an impact driver and a screwdriver.

Also during my absence, he let the HVAV die and didn’t replace it. So the house is without air conditioning or heat. I haven’t been here during the Summer, but I’m expecting it to be pretty warm up here. The winter hasn’t been bad because I brought a great space heater I had in KY. But no air movement, which causes further problems. I can smell mildew and see mold. Along with the dog urine smell.

The dishwasher died and was never replaced so it’s a hunk of rust. The refrigerator died about a week after I got here. He pulled it out into the middle of the kitchen because of a leak it had. So you couldn’t navigate the kitchen because of this monolith. It was over 25 years old. My dad never maintained it.

I had just cleaned that fridge out as well as the pantry and found food that expired in 2014. Ten years prior. And that’s just when it expired, not when it was bought. Rusty cans? An unopened box of iced tea - enough for 48 gallons? So that was a waste of time. He bought a new one but did he measure the space it needed to go in? NO! Of course not. So now we have a fridge sitting halfway out of the space that bangs into furniture next to it. My father’s elegant solution was to duct tape a bunch of paper towels to the corner of the antique furniture. And no plans to ever hook up the ice maker because he let that hose/pipe crap out which goes under the house where he won’t go. So that was a waste of $. He never even put all the shelves up.

The oven/range is from my childhood. Nothing works on it but the range, but the eyes all sit crooked. So it’s unusable. There is a small microwave, though. My dad only eats out of a plastic bowl, off a napkin, and drinks out of a dirty old cup, so he doesn’t care about dishes. He doesn’t cook, whereas I am a lifelong cook. I love cooking. I told him to prepare for some great home cooking, to which he just laughed. I should know what that laugh means by now. I had a TON of super nice things to contribute to the kitchen. But I can’t use them.

About 2 months ago the kitchen sink crapped out. He has no disposal and put everything down the sink. So he said he’d fix the drains on the sink and did a half-assed job as usual. So when I climbed up under there to replace all the plumbing and attach it to his work, it fell apart. My time had just been wasted.

I should mention that when the sink did crap out, and no one has been under there in decades, it was pretty gross. He knew it was leaking when I got here and had 2 buckets under there catching leaks. But when it bit the dust, it was 100% MY fault, somehow. You’ll sense a theme with that, I promise.

But he kept using the sink and the buckets filled up with nasty scraps and water. And a mouse drowned in one bucket, which was when I found all that under there. That was over the top for me, so I left the doors open so my dad could see what was what. That kicked off a one-sided war against me.

You see it's my fault his sink eroded over 45 years and therefore was immediately my responsibility. So we had no kitchen water or sink for about a month. That’s silly, but get this: he called plumbers ot the house to work on a broken pipe outside (go figure - nothing works here, including my dad) and didn’t even get them to take a look at the many, many plumbing problems inside.

He finally couldn’t take it or I don’t know what prompted it, but he called the plumbers back to fix the sink, my tub, the sink in the downstairs bathroom, and the sink in mine. He said he was too embarrassed to let them go into his room, understandably because of the condition he keeps everything, but all the plumbing in his was inoperable. He also turned the hot water heater all the way up, so 160-degree water comes out. I measured it. That will scald you easily. I informed him that would lead to more plumbing problems and 140 is more reasonable. In one ear out the other.

At least it won’t matter with washing clothes, since he only could hook up the cold water to the washer. One temperature, that’s it. May as wash things in the creek and beat them to dry.

Since around then, he has become more and more hateful towards me. Let’s see if I can think of some examples. There are lots as I truly believe he lies in bed in his room trying to think of ways to hurt me, then gets up and does it, and goes back and locks himself in his room.

You may be thinking by now “Alzheimers.” So did I, and I made the mistake of telling him and pleading with him to see a neurologist or geriatric doctor. He refuses. And when someone won’t help themself, then how can they expect others to help them? Especially when they beat you like a slave.

What I unwillingly did though, was give him a wonderful new excuse to behave however he wants. That’s nothing new, remember; he’s been this way his whole life. He has avoided everything he “should” do and instead do what he wants or just feels like doing. And he’s reaping what that’s sown: squalor and lonesome unhappiness. He’s exploiting it to use me. He can’t fool me.

I also told him during one of his outbursts that the secret to happiness is gratitude. To which he responded, “I don’t want to be happy.” He also tells me he doesn’t want to live, but his actions say differently, although barely. He wouldn’t even need a clock or calendar if he didn't go to the doctor. Seriously. And if you’re all over the place like that and floating in space, then you’re nowhere. And no path to anywhere.

So back to the sink. Because we had nothing in the kitchen that worked, my health began to suffer, quickly. I don’t eat super-processed garbage like my dad does. I eat vegetables and cook elaborate, healthy, delicious, plentiful meals. Or I did. I explained that to him and promised I wouldn’t try to change his diet. Little did I know he planned on changing mine and not for the better. My blood sugar went haywire as a result, not to mention I lost a ton of weight because I was having trouble finding food, and not even eating a lot of times. I’d go hungry. And I still do because I can’t afford to eat out every meal, and I have no kitchen. I’ve set up a small one that looks like I robbed an RV in my bedroom for the time being at least but it’s not exactly a full-service buffet in here.

I also had a bunch of dishes pile up from things I had cooked before the sink issue, which I then couldn’t wash. I tried washing them in the bathroom sink, but my dad maliciously moved everything around so I couldn’t, so I just left them on the kitchen counter until the sink was fixed. I explained I couldn’t wash dishes in the toilet which was the last option he was giving me. That was when he finally called plumbers, amazingly.

However, the dish pile bothered him greatly. Not that he’d say anything or want to discuss what wasn’t a big deal, like adults. Oh, no! So he took them all and hid them. This is a lot of dishes we’re taking. A crock pot dish, tons of silverware, etc… I figured he stole them and threw them away. Because I was figuring out that’s what he was doing with my things.

I had a set of expensive drill bits that vanished, for example. When he realized I needed them to work on the house, he replaced them(with some crap ones) and acted like he didn’t know anything about it. And he’s threatened to throw my things away several times like I don’t know he already does. He revealed my dishes and things he took in the garage and told me he’d throw them away if I didn’t do something with them. He even stole all my toilet paper and hid it in his closet, and tried to replace it with what he used, which was 1 ply Scott Tissue garbage.

That’s another character trait he has: he’ll do infantile things to harm people and then act like he didn’t. He gets a shot of endorphins from it. That’s mentally unsound. But he’s been that way his whole life - some people are like that. My ex was the same. She loved watching pranks. I hate them because they’re always at someone else’s expense. Which is why she loves them. When I was installing a new mailbox and post, he told me he wanted it so that if someone accidentally hit it with their car, it would destroy and hurt them. I couldn’t believe my ears and that was a disappointing thing to hear him say. Same with the backyard, when a tree fell on a metal shed and the insurance adjuster asked him to fix it because the liability it presented was so great they would have to drop him if not. He argued that no one goes back there but him. As if the idea of another taller person, like the adjuster, for example, is impossible. What he means is he doesn’t care unless it’s him.

The insurance company would drop him like a rock if they could see the wanton endangerment here. 55 drums of racing fuel, tanks of gasses indoors by the fireplace, the electrical system in this house is a fire waiting to happen, half the lights don’t work, and on and on. I have a good friend who’s a Sheriff’s Deputy and I am afraid to tell him about it. I’ve told him some things about this house, and I interpreted his silence as “This is stuff you probably shouldn’t be telling me.” The best thing at this point would be for this place to burn to the ground. Unfortunately, the few things I still have are in my room and my little “office” I had to create out of boxes downstairs. That was another issue. He kept sweeping up dog fur, cat litter, and all sorts of trash and dumping on my things. Repeatedly. And then he did the same and dumped it on the packages I needed to have delivered to others. And then he dumped it in a dish of his own mother’s, which I think he thinks is mine for some reason. That’s idiotic and inexplicable to me, but it’s how he copes with my presence.

I should mention here while I’m thinking about it, that both my recent ex-wife and father are both certified narcissists. A psychiatrist told my ex-wife that, which I told our Family Court judge, who dismissed the idea as me lying. I can’t win for losing. But in addition, my father is also a sociopath. In every meaning of the word. it means it’s “a mental health condition in which a person consistently shows no regard for right and wrong and ignores the rights and feelings of others.” - (Mayo Clinic.)

Narcissism is a word that gets tossed around a lot and I’ve heard people use it my whole adult life. But I never knew what one REALLY is. I applied my best guesses, as people errantly do, and as a result, I was totally ignorant. No more, though. My eyes are wide open now. And I’m happy to share anything I can if I can help anyone else avoid narcissists. They’re toxic. I even told my dad he was toxic today when he most recently assaulted and cussed and threatened and threw things at me today. His not-so-intelligent response? That I make him toxic as if it’s a feeling and not a terrible character trait. Sheesh.

My dad is a narcissist so it was normalized to me growing up. That behavior seemed appropriate and even expected. So it wasn’t a shock that I ended up marrying one before learning what one exactly is. I won’t go into a psychological analysis, but know this: If you meet one, run, don’t walk as far away as possible.

As you can see, the character traits are really starting to pile up.

I’m the type of person my dad doesn’t understand. I’m usually focused, goal-driven, disciplined, and hard-working. I always do my best. And if something needs to be done, I do it without hesitation. I deal in reason vs. emotion. I’m a stoic. I assume as much responsibility as possible. I live my life an open book, and welcome criticism so I can improve as a person. I plan and execute and am thorough. I got mostly straight A’s but always did my best. I went to a hard high school, which I’m proud of. College was a snap after that. And I got some Bs in grad school, but that was more from time constraints than anything else. I graduated with a 3.4. (It’s not like I couldn’t learn it, but they overwhelm you with work in MBA school. It’s part of the training.) My dad is a dropout. It’s like fire and ice, even superficially. And people seem to get upset about things they can’t understand. Even resent them.

So back to the horror scene. My dad has around 7 vehicles on the property, all junk. 2 run sometimes, and 2 pickups may run every now and then. One is for taking junk to the dump since I’ve been here. I’ve made around 60 trips to the dump, getting rid of garbage in this house. I’ve made 5 trips to the Animal Shelter to donate blankets and bedding and towels and bags of food mice have gotten into. (He keeps a 20# bag of dog food in the closet, and blames me for mice being in the house! There’s poop all around it, and they chew right into it and there it sits.) I never scratched the surface though, before my father clearly made it apparent he didn’t want me doing that anymore. This means I’m going to have to just call and have a dumpster dropped in the driveway and grab a pitchfork.

But my SUV is filled with my daughter’s things since they aren’t allowed in the house, and now the battery’s dead, so I’ve just been driving one of his. I don’t care as long as it’s reliable and roadworthy. They all aren’t. But NBD, right? WRONG!

Last Friday he decided he wouldn’t let me use his SUV anymore - no reason provided, just to be hateful, so he took and hid the keys. He doesn’t speak, you see. He thinks I’m clairvoyant. He only yells, at me. What he forgot about is the keys to the other vehicles. Smart guy.

So I just took the VW Rabbit he has. I parked it on the lawn out back instead of the garage where he has a disassembled race car(don’t even ask), 2,000 cans of explosives, a 55-gallon drum of gasoline, and enough accelerants ot make this house go up like the Death Star. But when I got home, from the laundromat mind you because the dryer still sits unable to be used, I parked it back in the back like a good boy, where I found it.

What did he do? He moved his huge old SUV along the side of the house, so he’s blocking all the cars in and I can’t leave. I am out of food and have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, 3 days later, (for my chronically high blood pressure and new sudden ailments believe it or not), and he knows this, and this is what he does. He’s seriously trying to kill me.

I also have business to conduct in town which my income solely relies upon. He’s simultaneously figuring out ways to kill my income. This is why he dumped all that dirt and crud on my business things, not once, not twice, but three times before I made it nearly impossible to do again. I had to build a wall in the living room out of boxes. It has 2 pocket doors into the living room, so there is now no reason for him to go into the 1/3 of the room I need. That’s where I have that stuff organized and stored, which is currently about $5k worth of stuff. For some reason that really pisses him off.

Now, keep in mind that my dad has spent his whole adult life here in this house. I have lived in 20! places during the time since I moved out way back when. So I have seen and done things he can’t even imagine. I’ve grown as a person in many ways. He has remained inert and even declined somehow in every possible way. What he’s been doing for the past decades is anyone’s guess. He cut down every tree on the property and killed all the grass. I know that at least. He’s built some impressive piles of metal garbage out back. That pretty much sums it up.

What has really been getting me lately is this: before my mother died, she, being the only responsible one, went and bought a gravesite and headstone for herself and my dad, to be buried next to her. It must be weird seeing your name and DOB on a grave, and no date of death…yet.

But here’s the thing. He hasn’t bothered to set aside the money to even be buried next to his wife. And has made no plans for himself, or me, who’s going to have to deal with it all. I don’t mean to be morbid, but it’s a natural part of life that’s inevitable. Planning for it seems like a decent idea, and he has nothing but time on his hands. Nothing. It’s not his problem, right? He’ll be dead. I guarantee you that’s what he is thinking. I don’t think he’s considered Mama at all, even though he and I went to her grave when I got here in November 2024.

I don’t know what he’s imagining, but he’s about to endure the worst years of his life, out of some bad ones. No plans, whatsoever, and no ability to create, much less execute plans well. I’m thinking he’s going to have to be cremated and I’ll dump the ashes somewhere. And my mother will rest in eternity alone. I find that pathetic personally if not outright unforgivable. If nothing else it’s as disrespectful as you can get. Maybe. His outburst today took the cake. He barged into my room, threatened me, threw something at me, and cussed at me, which we never (used to) do in our family. It’s trashy and shows a low intellect. Said he was going to “punch the fuck out of” me, which at his age and shape would be like an 80-year-old Korean woman swatting a fly.

Instead, he grabbed me by the beard and yanked me across the room. I reminded him the entire reason I was there was to help him. I haven’t been retaliatory or anything but nice despite the mistreatment, assault and hatred. When he dumps trash on my things, I clean it up and don’t say a word. I’m an adult man and try to behave as such, and maybe even set a good example or two. But I refuse to look downward to where he is.

I have a long, miserable trip ahead of me, with no foreseeable off-ramps.