My father

Right after my last post, I developed a profile at Windows Live under kikitkat's space. It's another work in progress, but I'm excited about it --- SO PLEASE CHECK IT OUT. If you do. you will probably notice that at the moment my messenger doesn't have any friends. No, I am not a hermit. It is just that I haven't told anyone close to me about either that messenger nor this blog.

While I have decided to use this blog for all sorts of things, one of them is as a personal journal. I wouldn't feel like I have the freedom to express my feelings completely on certain things if I knew the people in my life were reading my words.

To kind of change the subject, I wanted to write about something that has been on my mind a lot. A couple of months ago my father passed away. To say that our relationship was complicated would be a huge understatement. In my earlier post I said that he was abusive. This abuse took place when I was very young, and the last time I saw my father was when I was around five years old. However, there wasn't a day that he didn't effect my life. He had gone as far as to kidnap my older half-brother from his mother one time for a few days, and had threatened that he would do the same to me.

My father was bipolar and some of the professionals he had seen thought he was possibly also schizophrenic. So I guess my mom had good reason to be afraid.* As a child, I wasn't allowed to even check the mail without someone going with me, and it wasn't until I was sixteen my mother would let me stay home without the alarm on. I wasn't able to go on field trips unless an adult from my family could go with me and that wasn't often. Despite this and the other even more personal effects he had on my life, when I found out that he had died... I fell apart as if he had been Mike Brady. For the first couple of weeks after it was really hard to grasp, because he wasn't an active part of my life. So I would feel fine for awhile and then fall apart again.

I guess the reason that I wanted to write this down is that there isn't anyone for me to talk about him to. I was hoping to feel some kind of closure, but maybe this isn't something that is supposed be like that.


*I was going to wrap up there but as I was proofreading (... and I do realize that my writing is far from concise and my sentences too long) I realized something I want to clear up. I don't mean to imply that people with bipolar disorder are dangerous. My father desperately needed to be on medication for his imbalance and sometimes refuse to take it. That on top of the fact that he had abusive tendencies is what made him a danger.

---KiKi