Mentaly Ill

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Names or initials are the original writers of the collected memoirs

Sorry for so many versions of this and thanks everyone for shareing your stories.


Noxfish: My mother awoke me, my father wasn't home yet, he was still

out drinking …

RaveOn: The blankets bunch up in between us like a third person in the bed, but we don't seem to mind the separation in the dark. Back to back, you face west and I face east.

Jinxedandcharmed: Do I stay with my mother, wallow in the toxic life that’d I’d grown used to, the safety of knowing I could stay for the sake of familiarity, or do I flee to a better life and risk the fear of change? …

A: I was in bed when I heard my dad coming home late, followed shortly after by my mum's sobbing and questioning: "Who did this to you? Who beat you up?"

HE: The dog began barking & in my excitement …

JS: the voices in the kitchen are loud, louder than they should be. They are angry..... he is angry, she sounds afraid. I walk down the hallway and look into the kitchen,

MC: My dad was wearing dark Converse high tops, tall socks, and had a bandaged left ankle.

JS: I see a knife. I see my father holding it ... he's moving towards my mother...

I see him threaten her with it. I scream at him, he runs towards me with the knife, I ran back down the hallway.

HE: I recall hearing a lot of noise and seeing swirly blurry orange and green & black colours in super fast motion, and found myself suddenly facedown on my Dad’s arm while his other hand pushed on me forcing the knife to pop out and onto the floor …

SS: He’s Down in the basement now yelling. I can't make out any words. The phone jack (back from when phones plugged into walls) is in pieces in the middle of the room. Did he kick it off, crunch it under his Converse? Did he pull it out by the cord? Was she trying to call someone? There is a whirring groan of machinery rattling up through the floor boards. (I know now it was the chainsaw). There is lightning in the street and he is running out the backdoor. She is still screaming. Still crying. All around me, my mother's body crushing me to the ground

A:Turns out the truth was even more sinister as my dad had stolen her moped, got himself drunk and driven off a bridge.

Mlandau212: Dealing with my fathers death was both the hardest and the greatest learning experience in my life.

SM: I remember being held in my mother's arms in the midst of a raging storm. While she rocked me, I watched the lightning dance across the blackened sky through a small window as the thunder clapped. Suddenly, I stopped breathing. She shook me and said, "Breathe!" This continued throughout the night.

LW: And I remember the sound of marching as my mother rocked me. Marching, marching, marching, and the slight terror that somewhere those Converse were coming to get me.

I know now it was the sound of my own blood, my pulse in my ears.

Anansigirls: He was mentally I'll ...


Shamb123: At the age of four I remember my Father pulling up to the driveway. My peddle car sat in his way. I was to afraid to go and get it. Looking back maybe I knew he was a drunk and thought he was going to hit me. He drove over it.

In another memmory of him He bought my Brothers radios. I ran and pulled the dresser from the wall and hid behind it. He found me and gave me the biggest radio out of my five older Brothers. Was this a bribery for love or a forgivness for something he did in his drunken stuper. I don’t know why I was afraid and him.

He was mentaly ill from the booze in his system and I swear to this day I will never be like him

Created: May 01, 2017

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