Ah. I see. I don't know if I can call my family dysfunctional (yet, although there are two uncles on my mom's side she hasn't spoken to in years, I think. One of my uncles is a tool, though -- last time I heard from him, he got my aunt really upset three years ago over Christmas, so, honestly, he's a jerk), but I'm acknowledging how really flawed they are. I did, however, while trying to make sense of certain intrusive thoughts I had in 2013...I actually did recover some stuff from when I was a senior in high school that showed that Dad really did care about me. It was after I had a fight with him and
Possible trigger:
I was actually wondering, basically, if people were better off without me. I was already having issues when I was a senior in high school -- as Mom recounts it, it was as if I suddenly turned into a really troubled kid when I became a senior -- and I was starting to believe I was some rotten kid for having these issues (I think some of the teachers thought so too; I remember a school principal basically saying that people with cancer were stronger/less wimpy/whatever than I was -- I'm mostly recounting from memory here, of course. For context, I might have not been feeling well/having what could be called an anxiety attack. I remember for unexplained reasons just feeling so anxious and like I couldn't breathe at times, and needing to just step into the hallway -- during moments of anxiety in 2013, I had to step out of French class because it was as if I couldn't take it anymore, like I couldn't breathe. So I felt like a rotten kid, I was stressed out by school, and I actually had...I guess suicidal ideations, but no plan. My therapist actually had to talk me down and on the way home...Dad was actually crying. I think it was the first time I actually saw him cry, honestly. And it scared me a little.
I think my Dad does care about me. I guess it's just in this territory he doesn't get it. He doesn't quite understand it all. But he does care about me. And I think there are many others who do too -- I guess the problem is that ever since these flashes started, and probably even before that, I've felt isolated. Crazy, alone, dirty, unworthy, things like that. Mostly I've been starting to realize I'm not that. And I guess I don't have to engage in the more flawed parts of the family. (Can't really leave right now, though; I don't have a job or a degree, so I can't really support myself. I know, probably excuses on my part)
And that's true. I know whenever I peel back a layer it does feel pretty painful. Really painful, actually. My mind pretty much shoved my senior year memories to the back of my brain for a reason, for example. And I guess I do kind of wonder if, in comparison to others, my issues are pretty small at least. But at least it can help me with the nightmares I've had, the intrusive thoughts, things like that. And the more I peel back, the more clarity, I guess, I get on my history, which is a plus.
And thank you.
I guess I just feel like I've been going in circles here, so it's good to know that I'm doing better than I think I am.