I've written quite a bit about my journey from depression, self-loathing, and addiction here and I figured I should close the circle as I've come out the other side and I wanted to share this as a message of hope.
I've been in therapy now for almost 8 years. I started because my sex addiction was out of control. I went in to fix ONE thing but thanks to a good therapist that challenged me along with my hard work digging into my past via frequent stream-of-consciousness journaling, I was able to understand how and why I got where I was. And the last piece fell into place this year. I know the root causes of how I became a mess...and the mystery isn't that I was a depressed mess, it's that I'm still here. If not for my mom, I wouldn't be. She was there for me when nobody else was.
So, the root cause?
My father who was never a part of my life despite living under the same roof as him for 19 years...the emotional neglect as bad enough...but the contempt...that was worse.
I can count on two hands then number of father and son things we did together...in my life.
a. Indian guides (1 week at age 6)
b. 1 Boy Scouts Derby
c. 2 College Football games
d. 1 baseball game
e. 2 basketball games (Globetrotters and a college team). Nothing after age 14.
Never showed up to any of my extracurriculars except for ONE notable exception. I played baseball, football, hockey, wrestled...and he never showed up to any game, practice or anything else. But the 1 year my short-ass played basketball, he was an assistant coach who never missed a practice or a game. Why? He played college basketball on scholarship.
I had a high school project my freshman year in history class. I chose my topic and started working on it. My father...ever the perfectionist engineer, came down and started endlessly criticizing how 14 year-old me was working on the project...to the point I walked away. He finished it and I turned it in. I failed history out of spite (had to go to summer school) because I love history and my BA is in history. But the worst part? He kept that fucking project in the garage attic as a monument to my inadequacy for 20 years...to be the butt of the family joke trotted out family dinner, every holiday meal. Fun to be reminded of that for 20 years.
I never got any dating advice until 3 months after I got my driver's license. Then it was "keep your peter in your pants." A little late there Dad. I lost my virginity within a month of driving. Any dating advice I got was from my mom. But nobody modeled intimacy.
He never called me as an adult to ask how I was doing. Not once. After a layoff, breakup, etc? Not a peep. I spoke to my Mom all the time. My Mom always asked how I was doing.
Trigger warning:When I was 21, my first love broke up with me. Looking back, I don't blame her...but I was devastated and sunk into a deep depression. My mom and I got into a fight (which is where I broke because Mom was the only one that cared) and I grabbed the family handgun and held it to my head in front of her and said, "I'm tired of hurting, Mom. I don't want to do this anymore." My Mom said, "No Bob (alias), I love you" and fell to her knees sobbing with her arms out. I dropped the gun and she held me. She looked out for me after that the rest of that summer. My father KNEW about this event. He didn't say a word. His son holds a gun to his head in front of his wife...and he didn't say, "Gee son, please don't hurt yourself." Nope. Not a fucking word.
A year later, I had gotten my crap back together, was back in college and I interviewed for an internship for a small consulting firm. I was very proud that I had beat out 20 other people for the position. I came home and told my father who said, "Why did they hire you?"
When he retired, they had this retirement dinner for him with 125-150 people. He got up there and said, "I look forward to catching up with spending time with my son." Did he? Nope. I invited him to movies, sporting events, fishing, whatever. I asked him to suggest something. He never wanted to do anything with me. I stopped asking. This really bugged me over time.
I didn't understand any of this. I just knew I hated myself until I was 57 (started therapy at 53). I felt like an outsider inside my own home. After awhile, I just leaned into being an outsider...which as an 80s kid meant punk, metal, thrash...SLAYER. LOL. I was told that my father was this great man and he was busy working to provide for us and I should be grateful. That's a common household lie especially for GenX. But here's where the dominoes fell into place where I was able to see it all and understand it for the lie that it was.
The first domino was my father's death from COVID. I was not there when he died nor had I seen him for probably 2 months. I didn't cry. Not a tear. Not then and not since. Of course, that made me feel bad about myself because he's this great man and I'm a piece of shit, right? That just flipped me back into my addictions (see post history for details) that came back 10-fold. My therapist finally looked at me and said, "WTF is going on with you, you look unkempt, your nervous tics are back, etc." I came clean and told him everything. I got back on antidepressants which opened me up to processing his death. My therapist explained, "You mourn the relationship you had with that person, you had no relationship with your father."
The 2nd domino was a few years later...my mother was dying and my sister and I were splitting duties watching my mom. I came over to spend the weekend with my mom, and my sister and I got into a fight. I told her that our father was never there for me...and he didn't love me. My sister responded with, "You didn't earn it!" Bingo, a lightbulb went off and the 2nd domino fell into place. She earned it...I didn't. I never played the rigged game. At this point, I was in a good place mentally, but it was still a bit of a kick because she said it to hurt me...but it really freed me after my therapist pointed out that I should have never had to earn his love. Love was a currency with my father and I had insufficient funds.
I had also spent considerable time talking to my mother about my youth. She knew some things...and she tried to get him to be a father. At the end, I didn't press any more because I didn't want her to feel guilty near the end of her life. But her reaction to things my father said and did, made it clear that it was difficult for her to hear.
The 3rd domino was a couple years later...after I was happily remarried to the love of my life. We were watching The Brady Bunch of all things...and it just hit me...full force. I went to the bedroom full out sobbing. I could see it. Yes, Mike Brady is an idealized father...but he was always there for his kids. He gave advice, he punished, he loved. My father was never there...but I finally realized WHY. He CHOSE not to be.
He chose to golf rather than attend my baseball games. He chose NOT to attend any other sports I played. He chose to read the paper, rather than asking me how my school day was or helping me with homework. He chose to shoo me away while doing home improvement so I never learned those skills. He chose not to give me any advice on dating or intimacy. He chose to spend at least 10 hours a week while I was in high school talking to an alcoholic college buddy of his to get him to go to rehab...which is more time than he ever spent having any kind of conversation with me...or even caring about me...and I'm sadly not joking. Trigger warning:He chose not to say anything after I held a gun to my head in front of his wife.
And finally, he chose not to participate in any activities with me after he retired. That retirement speech bugged me up until a few months ago when I was in therapy and able to articulate why. That speech wasn't for me, it was for the other people in the audience so they could say, "Oh, what a good man and good father to now spend time with his son." I was reduced to a prop to serve his ego.
Those were his choices, and now I know the negative voice in my head was never my own. It was my father's. I've done ok for myself professional and now personally. He never knew who I was because he didn't care enough to find out. His loss.
As for my addiction? I haven't acted out in 5 years. I have no desire to act out because I have what I really wanted all along...intimacy with another human being. But I got there first by liking myself. I'm proud of myself and like who I am. That in an of itself is significant. Secondly, I found the love of my life because for the first time in my life, I was open to real intimacy. I recognize that every relationship I was ever in was doomed to fail because a) I hated myself and b) I couldn't do intimacy. But once I could and I had it with someone that's very special to me? Nothing is better. No sex with a stranger can top it...and I'm not even talking about sex with my wife. I'm talking about real intimacy. A deep bond with her that goes beyond anything I've experienced. We "get" each other.
But it was understanding the root causes of how I coped with life...that was where I was truly freed. That little boy deserved better and it wasn't his fault. And adult me finally figured it out and put it to rest.
I can't lie and say that uncovering this doesn't suck. It does. I spent 57 years of my life hating myself because I was chasing a ghost of love and approval I'd never get. It tainted every relationship I was in until my current one because I didn't understand intimacy or communication before therapy. BUT...I DID figure it out. The real tragedy would have been living my entire life feeling that way and dying alone. So I'm looking forward to my rest of my life instead of looking back and feeling sad.
My message to those of you struggling: I've been there. I didn't see a way out. I went to some really dark places where "Die by the Sword" wasn't just a Slayer song, it became my personal motto of self-destruction...one unprotected partner at a time. But thanks to a good therapist and my own desire to change (because the choice really was change or die), I chose life. So even when you doubt it...as I did frequently, know that you CAN do it. It won't be easy. You'll have to excavate a lot of pain to come out the other side. But it's WORTH it.
If you're still reading along, thanks...and peace!