Wednesday, June 07, 2023

Everyone Has A Story, Here's One Of Mine

I've been thinking of writing an autobiography or memoir but it just never comes together for me but I figured if I write one story at a time and post it on my blog maybe once a month, I can do that. Maybe one day I'll pull all the stories together and put them in a book but for now I'll just share some stories with you about my childhood. Some of the stories will be happy, some sad and some horrific because that was my childhood. But they will all be real, things that actually happened. If it seems like something that people enjoy reading maybe I'll keep it going. These stories will not be in any kind of order, I'll just write them as they come to me.

Trigger Warning: The following story contains a true story of gun violence and suicide. If this is something that will bother you, please do not read this. 

Larry's Suicide and How I Thought He was Going To Kill Me

If you didn't read last month's story you should go back and read that so you get a picture of Larry's personality and how we didn't get a long because he hit my mom and disliked me. 

After moving back in with my grandpa from the ending of the last story, things were going alright for a while. Larry didn't like me but he seemed to love my little brother so I just ignored him as much as possible which was hard when he hit my mom. Even my grandpa said something to Larry about him hitting my mom but it never stopped and he didn't care who he did it in front of. My grandpa couldn't do anything because he wasn't a big man and he was older and had slowed down quite a bit. We would find out months later that he actually had lung cancer that he spread everywhere and that's why he was slowing down so much. 

One day at the end of August after everyone was leaving my grandpa's welding shop, I got into a heated argument with Larry about him hitting my mom. He, my mom and brother got in my mom's van and left. I went home with my grandpa in his work truck. My mom and Larry got home before we did and when I got out of my grandpa's truck, I got the door keys from him and ran upstairs. He followed behind me because he had a real hard time getting up the stairs at that time. My mom and brother were in the driveway in her van. So I walked past them and went upstairs. 

The first thing I noticed when I opened the door was that the TV and radio were on and turned to their full volume which was weird. Larry was sitting at the kitchen table and he had my mom's gun in his hand. There was a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps on the table in front of him and he was drinking. He pointed the gun at me and I thought he was going to kill me. All he said was, "This is all your fault." He downed the rest of the Schnapps, put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I was 13 years old. 

There was so much blood, everywhere, coming from every orifice he had in his head. It pooled on the floor under him so fast and all I could do was stand there in shock until my grandpa grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me outside and locked the door. I just stood there for a minute not fully understanding what had just happened. I remember running down the stairs and going to the van in the driveway and telling my mom that Larry had hurt himself. She ran up the stairs and started banging on the door but my grandpa wouldn't open the door. When she started screaming he opened the living room window and yelled at me to get my mom away from the door. I went back upstairs and tried to get my mom to go downstairs but instead she pushed me and I fell halfway down the stairs. She didn't care that I got hurt so I just walked out to the front and stood there. The police got there first and forced my mom to come downstairs. She and my brother held each other but my mom pushed me away when I went to her. She wanted nothing to do with me. So I stood by the fence and just watched things happen. 

My grandma and aunt Cecilia pulled up and my grandma went over to my grandpa and they talked for a moment and then they took me to the side of the house and told me I shouldn't tell anyone what I saw. That if anyone asks I should say I didn't see anything and that my grandpa went in first and never let me go inside the house. They never asked me what I saw, if Larry said anything to me or how I was. And they never talked about it with me again. I know my grandpa heard the shot because he was on the stairs when it happened and the door was open. So when the police took my grandpa, mom, me and my brother down to the police station to fingerprint my mom and question all of us, I just said I didn't see anything and my grandpa went in and I never did. The police officer asked me if I was cold because I couldn't stop shaking and I just said yes. I think I was actually in shock. I kept it all to myself and didn't tell anyone for the next 4 years when I told my psychiatrist. My mom was absolutely shocked to find out what really happened. I was diagnosed with PTSD and a personality disorder called Schizotypal Personality Disorder when I was 17. The PTSD was a direct result of what happened but my psychiatrist wasn't sure if the personality disorder was or not. I could have already had it when that happened. I found out years later that Larry had lost his wallet with around $2000 dollars and that's the real reason he was upset. It had nothing to do with me.

I hope that if anyone has gone through something similar that this will help them. You are not alone. Feel free to email me if you need someone to talk to. I know how hard going through something like this is.

Links to past stories.