Fathers Day 2013 and Photos as Props

In a discussion I had with a cousin last Fathers Day, I learned that Ed displays my childhood pictures in his home.

This doesn’t really surprise me – it allows him to keep up whatever illusion he has created for those closest to him now.  I imagine he plays the role of martyred father to the hilt.

Let’s examine this, shall we …

I don’t exist according to his biographies for work and high school class webpage, but he has photos of me in his house.

Doesn’t take Fellini to figure out Ed wants the people who live in his home, and those close enough to him to be invited guests, to view him as the wounded, forgotten father – the victim.  A martyr who will always love his child, but who has been cruelly cut out of his life.

The father cut out of his son’s life?   Absolutely.

But not for the reason I’d bet my bottom dollar Ed has led his friends and family believe …





Facebook and My Daughter

The cultural phenomenon known as Facebook has given my children access to my family for the first time in their lives …

Last week, my daughter was paging through the list of potential friends Facebook suggested she might connect with, and this particular day the suggestions were members of my family.

My aunt (mother’s sister I am not in contact with) appeared, as did her children, and my daughter enjoyed looking at their photos, presumably searching for a family resemblance.

She, my daughter, connected with my mother last year – it was a Facebook only relationship and nothing came of it, good or bad.

My  daughter, through Facebook, has seen pictures of her extended family … all but Ed.  I’m sure he has shown up in suggested friends for her as well, but his profile picture isn’t close up so there was no way for her to really look at him …

So, she googled him.  She found his work biography,  in which he claims to be the father of one (his step-son) and grandfather of two (step-grandsons) This she found upsetting and unsettling … not for herself, but for me.  It is difficult for a child raised in the way my daughter has been raised to understand that not all parents value their children; she has known only a child-centered home.  I’m very glad she has no basis for comprehension of how a parent can deny their child.

She is a Facebook friend of Ed’s sister and two of my cousins, and she enjoys interacting with them tremendously.  I like that she has this connection to the best of my family.


In October 2013, my diagnosis was updated; Bipolar Disorder, Dysthymia, Major Clinical Depression and PTSD.  Depakote was added to the Welbutrin and Abilify I’d been taking for nearly two years, and I actually feel better than I had ever believed I could feel.

In truth, my first diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder had come several years prior – but it was a diagnosis I was then unwilling to accept.  It came from a psychiatrist I hadn’t known long, and she reached this conclusion with little effort – and the drugs she prescribed caused side effects I couldn’t tolerate, so I dismissed this diagnosis … I should not have.

Last October, I couldn’t dismiss it any longer.  I am Bipolar.

Child abuse causes Bipolar Disorder …

But I think it also causes a need to deny and pretend things aren’t as bad as they really are.

A child living in a home with abusive parents learns he is powerless to change his circumstances, so he imagines there is no better world, that his circumstances aren’t unique.

Dysfunction reinforces dysfunction.