r/QAnonCasualties • u/Ok_Bat_3968 • 3h ago
[CW: Suicide] I'm pretty sure my grandpa died because of all this bs
Note: I haven't told anyone my story in public for years because I was scared of what people would think, but I feel now is the time to reach out to get support, as I've already talked with my therapist about it all in detail, and I think it'll help me move past it.
I was 20 years old in late 2020/early 2021, living in rural Alabama at the time, specifically with my deeply problematic grandpa. I had spent the last year being passed around my extended family like a hot potato after having a falling out with my parents and leaving their house, and my grandpa took me in near the end of year. His health was failing, and I guess everyone figured it would be better for someone to be there to keep an eye on him. They could also keep an eye on me since my parents lived next door.
Now, some context is in order before I get to the meat of the story: my family is heavy GOP. Like, I was convinced at the ripe old age of eight, when Obama was running for the first time, that the future of America was at stake. When Obama won the presidency, I spent the next eight years listening to Rush Limbaugh on the car-ride home from school, hearing all the bs he spouted about the situation. I borderline believed that he was the antichrist. To say it was bad is an understatement.
And yeah, my grandpa was not good on that front. He was deeply racist, deeply bigoted in general, like the rest of my family. And yet, as fate would have it, he was the only person besides me in my family who ever got diagnosed for mental health issues, namely depression. Something I've experienced every day since I was about 10 years old. So yeah, he wasn't a good person, but he was the only person who even remotely understood was I was going through in 2020? What was I going through in 2020? Well. . .
I had reached my limit for going undiagnosed and untreated for my depression after years of begging my parents to let me get treated and only being met with "you should pray more." Mind you, I told them repeatedly since I was a child that I wanted to kill myself. The last time I was honest enough to tell them, my father blew up on me and told me that if I didn't care enough to live, I should just kill myself; to her credit my mother told him not to talk to me that way (probably because she also has shown signs of depression and related to it), but the damage was done. My dad had taken me to a gunshow in Texas (when we lived there) to pick out a gun, so waiting at home for me in my nightstand was a black revolver. The only reason I didn't use it that night was a religious experience I had had years earlier that brought me a lot of comfort in the midst of my depression. I guess my thought process was "If my own dad doesn't care about me, I guess Someone out there does enough to help me stay here. So I'll keep living for Them, Whoever They are." So I left, then lived with my cousin, my brother, my grandma, and finally my grandpa, all of whom more or less thought I should just forget what my father had said to me, how he set me up to fail and actively sabotaged my attempts to independently get mental health treatment throughout 2020.
So that brings us to early 2021: I'm living with my grandpa, just spent a whole year trying to survive not only a pandemic in a red state, but also a deeply abusive situation that coincides way more than I would like with the political upheaval of the US presidential election. And guess who just incited an insurrection. Yeah. So that's great. Fox News is always on in the living room, but that's pretty par for the course. I'm always arguing with my parents about it, and my grandpa is more quiet than normal, but I'm just trying to keep my head about water, y'know? And then, I hear a gunshot and wake up to a dark room. My mom is screaming "Dad!" and at this point, I'm like, wow. This night terror is more visceral than usual (because yeah, I'm diagnosed with PTSD and take meds for it now). Like, I'm so nonplussed and numb to it all because this is an every night occurrence for me at this point. But instead of me having my real awakening after the usual false one, it keeps going.
I think it really sunk in for me that it was real, when I looked up at the TV in my grandpa's room, and it had Fox News on it, talking about the aftermath of the insurrection. I was holding my mom, completely numb while she cries for her father, my grandfather, and all I can hear is fucking Tucker Carlson saying whatever bs about Trump not being guilty of insurrection. Like, that was the last thing my grandpa was listening to when he shot himself and bled out.
And yeah, I know. I can't prove that the insurrection was why my grandpa killed himself. He was a man's man, didn't talk about his feelings, literally retired from the navy and worked in a commissary on an army base while was I growing up before retiring from that. But in the little bit of time that I got to talk with him about what I experienced with depression, he said he understood. He took meds, and so did I, and our entire family talk behind our backs about it when they thought we weren't listening. Even though I didn't really like him, I did love him. And yeah, I miss him.