Growing up with a Schizophrenic

Growing Up With an Undiagnosed Schizophrenic

My father was diagnosed as Schizophrenic in May of 1999. He lived to see 63 and passed that September.
My entire life I grew up with a dad that was both kind and cruel. He used different types of self medicating and distractive or destructive activities to seek refuge from his state.
I have always said that when he was good he was. When he wasn’t he was really was bad. It cycled.
With these cycles came periods without jobs, loss of driving license, periods of abusive behavior, also eccentric behavior. He would start to hoard things or collect one thing and carry in his car trunk. He would dress up on non-dress up going on. He came to my office work dressed as a full woman. This was a new one….
My dad was also sensitive and caring. When he was good he was a good father. He tried to keep it together but it never lasted long.
When he was good he was active and took us to the beach. He played race cars with my brother and I. He was funny and he would sit with me falling asleep while taking us to the drive in. We had good days with dad.
He played the guitar. To me he sang like an angel. I think music often grounded him. To be the center of attention was also a goal. Lots of times he was.
Some in town knew. He was ‘different’. But my dad was also very smart and conniving. He hid things very well. Others also covered for him. In the early years the police would pull you over and give you a ride home..”Sleep it off”.
I didn’t really understand about alcohol. I was too young. By the time I was 10 I knew. It was obvious to me as I saw it.
Throughout the years he would hook up with a woman. MJ and her kids had him for quite awhile. Thinking I would say 5 years or so. It is fuzzy for me. I have many terrible memories from that period as well as blanks. I don’t remember big chunks.
The house was a disaster most times. He drank and slept or sat in almost dark in the basement. I cannot describe thise times other than awful.
I tried to stop going. He had snapped and MJ had put him in hospital. He was released…bad. I refused. He wrote me long letters. Then MJ came to my school to beg me to go see him. She was desperate. I was 10. By 11 she had kicked him out.
Now he played my 16 yr old brother and he left our home with Mom and went to live with dad.
It never got good.
At 12 he assaulted me sexually. I stopped regular visits. I never told anyone exactly what happened but the fight prior was enough for others to not question me.
Throughout the years to come he had the ups and downs. He had moved for work. While he held that job for several years his behavior was more of the eccentric nature. But he was at his most stable. Had his own apartment. Car. Was well dressed and spotless place. There were abnormal things. Again collecting. At that time it was miniature glass animals. From turtles to swans. Elephants in super small up to just regular small…He was obsessed.
In 1997 our economy was struggling. My dad was laid off in down sizing. He refused to take a lesser job in the company. It didn’t take long for him to regress. His mental health deteriorated. His behavior became more erratic. He got paranoid. He got violent.
After shuffling from spot to spot back here in town he landed at a motel just out of town.
1997. I turned my dad away on my own doorstep. He had no money…no food..no place to go…but he refused to get mental help.
I didn’t see him for two years. He would phone but I held firm with please get help.
April of 1999 he had a massive stroke. At Peel Memorial I saw him. He was kept a long time but I only went the once. It was there he was diagnosed as Schizophrenic.
He was released August. He celebrated his 63 birthday being in eviction from his apartment and life in chaos. The social worker was afraid to go into his place of residence.
September 30 they found him in his car downtown Toronto. He had a heart attack. He wasn’t even supposed to be driving. Never mind I had busted my butt to get him into a home for the next day.
Life with a Schizophrenic is one if not knowing. Reality is constantly shifting. I grew anxiety. My own mental health suffered. And although he has left this earth I remain haunted. I have let go over and over. It chases me with simple triggers. Flashbacks. My entire sense of real gone.
We go on.