Exactly. Sometimes we need an unbiased 3rd party to listen. Talking to other people can be skewed and most people don’t wanna hear others problems. A good psychologist will bring out of a person what needs to be brought out. Last time I walked out I was so angry. But not at him. He was just getting deep things out of me that I tried to hide and tuck away. Plus he doesn’t prescribe meds anyway. He’s just there to listen and talk. You guys are thinking of psychiatrists. They’re the ones who are judging you to treat you. Most psychologists are chill.

PsychOLOGISTS dont prescribe meds, you go their and vent and they help you better yourself,

PsychIATRISTS do prescribe meds, and ‘judge’ (it’s really diagnosing, but since y’all take it as judging we can use that word.) you. Going to see either if you’re dealing with mental stress is not a bad idea at all. I’m not ashamed to admit, nor do I have any doubt in saying this, I would’ve shot my school up if not for Dr. Dunn. And he’s such a cool guy he didn’t even have me committed or tell my parents or anything when I told him that shit. Instead he helped me chill out and realize how fucking stupid and pointless that’d be.

Now that I’ve got a little time at work (it’s looking to be the slowest semester ever, and that’s fuckin’ fine with me), I’ll mention a few of the things that have been gnawing at me lately.

My grandfather was a child molesting murderer. I’ve never met him. He’s been dead for I believe about 15 years. I walked downstairs one day, my dad had on a tux-type deal instead of his workboots + Wranglers + Salvation Army flannel shirt, and I asked him why he was so gussied up. 

“Going to my dad’s funeral,” He replied.

“Okay,” I said.

My dad had never told me about his own pops, and the terror he inflicted on our small city back in the sixties. My mother was the one to tell me, and my oldest brother mentioned it once. But my grandpa was an extreme womanizer for one. He’d bring women into the house right in front of his angelic wife. I’d never met her either. In fact, I’ve never met any grandparents, aunts or uncles on either side, nor cousins. All I have had the pleasure of meeting in my life are my father, mother, two brothers (one a half bro), and half-sister. Anyway skipping many other familial stories, the grandpa was a piece of shit. He targeted a 12 year old girl in town (with his same last name, too). He and another man raped and then strangled this girl, and stuffed her mouth full of leaves and covered her with rocks. 

Everyone in town knows he was guilty. This was 1964, before forensic science had it’s place in crime stories.

My brother had his girlfriend living with him at my dad’s for a brief period. My dad took a shine to the cunt (she sucks, ‘nother story), so they all got drunk and played darts. She told me that he confided to her the truth about Grandpa. He cried and explained how the police had him wear a fucking wire on his own dad to try and get a confession out of him. I don’t know the details, but it was confirmed by my mother and apparently no evidence  was good enough, as Grandpa never was arrested.

She had also said that a small film documentary crew had approached him on the phone or at home, I’m not sure, and my dad declined to give them any info. The murder is the biggest and about the only unsolved murder in our city. It was huge news. Apparently ANOTHER girl with the same fucking name was raped and murdered too, possibly by Grandpa and his accomplice. I don’t know much about that though.

I’m sure, knowing my father, he probably told the crew to leave or he’d “blow your goddamn heads off!” That’s his way. I guess he doesn’t want any more to do with the case. It’s wore on him throughout life, perhaps privately. He still has never discussed it with me.

So his father was a known rapist murderer. Why do I bring this up now? Well, my mother came up the other week and said there’s some big news and she wasn’t sure that I wanted to hear it. She is suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s and must’ve forgotten that I knew about the murders, because she eventually told me about it again.

“I already know that, mom,” I said, not too interested. “You told me before.”

Well, she went on to say how Grandpa not only murdered the girl, but raped his daughter (my dad’s sister) frequently. I had known that, as the daughter is now a very mentally unstable woman who happens to be a published author. I’ve never met her. But also Grandpa had had frequent shots at my half-brother, who was also molested by his schizophrenic mother at times, and stabbed by her. I never had any idea about my brother being hurt by his grandpa. This shocked me further, as my brother died last April.

Sorry for the length of this by the way, but I’m on a roll here…. anyway my mother says she brings this nastiness up because the local paper just ran a 50-year “anniversary” of the unsolved murder. The case is not closed. The authorities are trying to reach my dad again, and he won’t cooperate as usual.

Here’s the link, and if you choose to read it, please respect our privacy and don’t leave any crazy comments or anything. 

http://www.mytwintiers.com/sto…..NdIMKeCvWA

I say all of this because I want the family and community that still suffers to have some peace, or at least closure on the murder. My dad knows it was his own father who did this, and he is the one that possesses the DNA to help bring this issue to a close. I fully understand how he doesn’t want to deal with it anymore. It’s insane and it’s horrible and it haunts. But his own son, my blood brother, was likely murdered in 2007 in NC, and we will probably never get our own closure on that. It’s like this, we want it to be just a freak accident, but the likelihood is this: freak accident 40% chance… suicide 20% chance… foul play 40% chance. We will never know, and it is unspeakable.

I want these people to have closure. Closure is important. If I approach my dad with this, him not even knowing I know, I do not know how he’ll react. But I believe in justice whenever possible, and this case is bigger than his pain and shame. All this is going to take is him giving up some DNA. That is likely the only catalyst for a post-life conviction.

What the fuck do I do? I’m about to move many miles away from here again around August. My dad wants me to write his biography, has for years. But so far what he’s told me and what I know are fucking nuts. It’s disturbing as hell, yet much of the non-murder stuff is highly entertaining. The man has his faults, but his story is amazing. And I’m part of that, but I have trepidations about even talking to him about all of this, let alone writing it down. He calls up and is jovial enough, wanting me to write it down with him, but I fear the dark portions of his tale and his potential reactions.

What do y’all think, if you’ve managed to care enough to read all that shit I just typed lol? Should I “man up” like The Almighty Smack would obviously have no problem doing, with his bulbous, masculine sack of amethyst-hard nuts, and talk to my dad and try to get him to help these people with his DNA and information? Or should I let it be and go on raising my new family?

Thanks for listening. I really was considering not writing this at all, and I still might remove it at some point if it get’s too uncomfortable. But this thread is for venting. 

Old Mr Dangerous said
Now that I’ve got a little time at work (it’s looking to be the slowest semester ever, and that’s fuckin’ fine with me), I’ll mention a few of the things that have been gnawing at me lately.

My grandfather was a child molesting murderer. I’ve never met him. He’s been dead for I believe about 15 years. I walked downstairs one day, my dad had on a tux-type deal instead of his workboots + Wranglers + Salvation Army flannel shirt, and I asked him why he was so gussied up. 

“Going to my dad’s funeral,” He replied.

“Okay,” I said.

My dad had never told me about his own pops, and the terror he inflicted on our small city back in the sixties. My mother was the one to tell me, and my oldest brother mentioned it once. But my grandpa was an extreme womanizer for one. He’d bring women into the house right in front of his angelic wife. I’d never met her either. In fact, I’ve never met any grandparents, aunts or uncles on either side, nor cousins. All I have had the pleasure of meeting in my life are my father, mother, two brothers (one a half bro), and half-sister. Anyway skipping many other familial stories, the grandpa was a piece of shit. He targeted a 12 year old girl in town (with his same last name, too). He and another man raped and then strangled this girl, and stuffed her mouth full of leaves and covered her with rocks. 

Everyone in town knows he was guilty. This was 1964, before forensic science had it’s place in crime stories.

My brother had his girlfriend living with him at my dad’s for a brief period. My dad took a shine to the cunt (she sucks, ‘nother story), so they all got drunk and played darts. She told me that he confided to her the truth about Grandpa. He cried and explained how the police had him wear a fucking wire on his own dad to try and get a confession out of him. I don’t know the details, but it was confirmed by my mother and apparently no evidence  was good enough, as Grandpa never was arrested.

She had also said that a small film documentary crew had approached him on the phone or at home, I’m not sure, and my dad declined to give them any info. The murder is the biggest and about the only unsolved murder in our city. It was huge news. Apparently ANOTHER girl with the same fucking name was raped and murdered too, possibly by Grandpa and his accomplice. I don’t know much about that though.

I’m sure, knowing my father, he probably told the crew to leave or he’d “blow your goddamn heads off!” That’s his way. I guess he doesn’t want any more to do with the case. It’s wore on him throughout life, perhaps privately. He still has never discussed it with me.

So his father was a known rapist murderer. Why do I bring this up now? Well, my mother came up the other week and said there’s some big news and she wasn’t sure that I wanted to hear it. She is suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s and must’ve forgotten that I knew about the murders, because she eventually told me about it again.

“I already know that, mom,” I said, not too interested. “You told me before.”

Well, she went on to say how Grandpa not only murdered the girl, but raped his daughter (my dad’s sister) frequently. I had known that, as the daughter is now a very mentally unstable woman who happens to be a published author. I’ve never met her. But also Grandpa had had frequent shots at my half-brother, who was also molested by his schizophrenic mother at times, and stabbed by her. I never had any idea about my brother being hurt by his grandpa. This shocked me further, as my brother died last April.

Sorry for the length of this by the way, but I’m on a roll here…. anyway my mother says she brings this nastiness up because the local paper just ran a 50-year “anniversary” of the unsolved murder. The case is not closed. The authorities are trying to reach my dad again, and he won’t cooperate as usual.

Here’s the link, and if you choose to read it, please respect our privacy and don’t leave any crazy comments or anything. 

http://www.mytwintiers.com/sto…..NdIMKeCvWA

I say all of this because I want the family and community that still suffers to have some peace, or at least closure on the murder. My dad knows it was his own father who did this, and he is the one that possesses the DNA to help bring this issue to a close. I fully understand how he doesn’t want to deal with it anymore. It’s insane and it’s horrible and it haunts. But his own son, my blood brother, was likely murdered in 2007 in NC, and we will probably never get our own closure on that. It’s like this, we want it to be just a freak accident, but the likelihood is this: freak accident 40% chance… suicide 20% chance… foul play 40% chance. We will never know, and it is unspeakable.

I want these people to have closure. Closure is important. If I approach my dad with this, him not even knowing I know, I do not know how he’ll react. But I believe in justice whenever possible, and this case is bigger than his pain and shame. All this is going to take is him giving up some DNA. That is likely the only catalyst for a post-life conviction.

What the fuck do I do? I’m about to move many miles away from here again around August. My dad wants me to write his biography, has for years. But so far what he’s told me and what I know are fucking nuts. It’s disturbing as hell, yet much of the non-murder stuff is highly entertaining. The man has his faults, but his story is amazing. And I’m part of that, but I have trepidations about even talking to him about all of this, let alone writing it down. He calls up and is jovial enough, wanting me to write it down with him, but I fear the dark portions of his tale and his potential reactions.

What do y’all think, if you’ve managed to care enough to read all that shit I just typed lol? Should I “man up” like The Almighty Smack would obviously have no problem doing, with his bulbous, masculine sack of amethyst-hard nuts, and talk to my dad and try to get him to help these people with his DNA and information? Or should I let it be and go on raising my new family?

Thanks for listening. I really was considering not writing this at all, and I still might remove it at some point if it get’s too uncomfortable. But this thread is for venting. 

First off, you’re an excellent writer. I think you gotta let him figure it out on his own fam. Maybe deep down he loved his dad for his good traits and doesn’t want to think about the fucked up shit you grandpops did. If you do attempt to talk to him try to make comparisons to you brother, 

LTB said
My dad forced me to eat steamed cabbage, red potatoes, and other shit I find disgusting. Technically, I was force fed. And I too had to sit at the table until the meals completion. I also wasn’t allowed anything to wash it down, as it would make me full. It didn’t traumatize me none, just pissed me off. I come from a family of huge eaters, and was always told not to “stuff myself” but made to feel obligated to eat my huge portions as there are people who would kill for a meal, let alone whatever meal we were eating was. Also didn’t traumatize me. I guess different people react differently to shit, but of course that’s just the tip and I don’t know anything further than that. 

Old Mr Dangerous said
that long depressing and fascinating tale up there  

I think you should press your dad to do it. It’s the Christian thing to do. (i say that as a metaphor not as a literal religious statement, lest others get angry at me for being all “Christy”) Those families deserve the closure of finally having confirmation it happened.

 

LuckyNumbrXIII said
I have OCD.  Like, not just the “I like my workspace neat” type.  The real deal.  It also is accompanied by intrusive thoughts.  It’s the worst.  Like, I used to be camping and be on a cliff, and actually imagine myself jumping to my death.  To the point where I was actually shaking my head and smacking myself to make it stop.  

 

It’s the worst now because I have a little baby.  And I hold her and sometimes imagine (with disgusting detail) what it would like if I dropped her or something.

 

I might go for help if it gets any worse.  Right now it’s just every once in a while.  As a teen it was bad, but that’s only because of hormones and immature brains.  In my late twenties now, it seems manageable, and I never actually feel like any of these things will happen.  It’s just a personal annoyance that has me actually chanting prayers to God to make them stop.  It sounds bad written out, but it’s no worse than like… some baptist that gets a bad urge and just starts saying, “Help me Jesus, help me Jesus.”

That’s the shit that happens to me all the time. Im holding a knife and just paint a portrait in my head of me stabbing whoever is nearest at hand. I havent came remotely close to doing it, and usually think “man that would be fucked up” and shake it off. Certainly a harmless thing, and I refuse to believe it isn’t normal.

Oh, I’m not tramatized, I’m mad cuz it made me chubby.

LTB said
Made me fat too. That and being a lazy unmotivated fat body piece of shit. How old are you chuklz? 17? You got a criminal record, tattoos, taken any psych meds (that are well documented), any surgeries, any medical or (diagnosed) psychological disorders? If not, (and depending on which is a yes, even some yeses) I suggest you got your local recruiters and talk to the Marines and join the delayed entry program. I lost 34 pounds in 5 months and am in way better shape. Mentally and physically. Plus they let you wear turbans in the military now! ( that last part was meant to be a light hearted jab, my bad if it offended.)

I’m 18, my shit got exspunged after i trned 18, only meds i took is adderal, nothing except stiches, and none that are documented. Yeah bro i was thinking about enlisting. It’d be a great way to get my disapline up and shit. Also I like lighthearted racist jokes, they’re funny as fuck.

Protip: even though I’m arab me and most of my immediate hate most arabs

LTB said
How long did you take adderral? What were the charges that got expunged? (Fed background checks can access expunged offenses, and the military, naturally, does federal background checks)

The quacks put me on adderal from 1st grade (6 y/o) then i stopped in 8th grade (13 y/o). The charges were carrying a concealed weapon, shoplifting, and obstuction(luckily i changed and only got that insteacd of assult and battery)

It was a fuckin BB gun lol. Looked real as fuck though.