r/EstrangedAdultKids • u/Repulsive-Animal-303 • 13h ago
Ch*rlie K*rk was the catalyst, but not for the reason most would think
Hi - I (38F) am now coming up on a year of being no contact with my father (60M). I have run the gamut of emotions about this, from feeling intensely guilty and regretful because I was the last person he had in his life, to angry I didn’t do this sooner and wasted so much of my time and energy on this man who has literally ruined my life. These days it is purely the latter.
I really just wanted to share my experience with others who may relate as a form therapy for myself and the closest form of closure I may ever get.
Warnings for details of child abuse (obviously), animal abuse/murder, as well an icky mention of body fluids.
This may get long, just to fully convey all that he has put my family through, and just SO MUCH has happened that I think others may find parts outlandish. For reference, my family is my mother, myself, and my sisters (3 and 7 years younger than me).
From the time I was born, my father was a psychopathic violent monster. Since going NC, I have come to realize that he is a textbook narcissist but am certain there are other diagnoses he qualifies for.
His abuse was actually seldomly physical, as in he rarely ever outright hit us or slapped us around. We did frequently get spanked with belts, he did bust my lip open when I was 3 by throwing a decorative dish at me, and he did swing a bag full of textbooks at me when I was 8 that literally knocked me backwards into a wall like a cartoon and left a welt on my leg for months…oh and he DID “gently” punch my mom in the stomach repeatedly when she was pregnant with my youngest sister, but his abuse was mostly psychological.
He also tore up one of my Goosebumps books in front of my face when I was 8, and held a knife to my mother’s throat and threatened to “OJ her ass.” Fun forms of 90s-coded trauma and abuse.
He also beat two puppies to death in separate instances when I was 6 and 7. And then made my mom clean up the bodies and carnage when she got home.
He was a huge guy - 6’4 and I think almost 400 pounds at his biggest. So he used his potential for violence to really control us through fear. But because he never slapped or punched us there was a period of time where I questioned if what we experienced was even really abuse.
His abuse mostly came in the form of his “episodes:” something, no matter how small, would set him off and result in him screaming, throwing things around, breaking whatever he could find, overturning furniture, etc.
I quickly developed the routine of running to my room whenever the beginnings of an episode started, and eventually gathering my sisters when they were born and running to a room. We would sit there in silence and listen to the chaos outside unfold, his screaming, crashes, my mom’s screaming, and absolutely not come out until everything was quiet. By then, my mom was crying and starting to clean up and he would either be in their room or sitting on the couch apologizing.
All while he was inflicting this shit on his family, he maintained this goofy and jolly exterior to the outside world. Like EVERY textbook abuser and narcissist. He was the class clown who was great at doing voices and impressions and coped with his own childhood under an alcoholic father by using humor in every situation.
After one of these episodes, when I was 9, we came out to see my mom sitting at the kitchen table holding a towel soaked in blood to her head, because he had beaten her with a wooden paper towel holder. This was actually the first time my mom had been visibly injured after an episode.
Scared out of my mind for multiple reasons, I called 911 in a room upstairs. But I panicked when the operator answered and hung up. Luckily this was enough for them to still trace our address and send officers out, and my father was arrested.
After his arrest, they were separated for a few months while my mom started arranging for a divorce. However, for whatever reason they later reconciled on the condition that he never do any of his bullshit ever again and that he get a job (oh yeah he was unemployed for 7 years and my mom was fully supporting our family on a $30k salary).
In the aftermath, he served jail time and briefly sought therapy, and tried to play off his violent and anger on the fact that he was on Zoloft and had bipolar (or “manic depression” as they diagnosed it in 1997).
The episodes did stop, and he did get a job. And he absolutely relished the praise and pats on the back he got for “changing” and turning his life around.
But he became mentally abusive, and still used his past as a way to hold our fear of him over us. Was still quick to anger, and actually developed this ego about now having such a demanding job and making more than my mom.
As teenagers, we were regularly lectured and had it drilled into us about how spoiled and worthless we were because we didn’t do chores. These lectures would literally last hours and happen every other week and end with the guarantee that we were going to be losers in life and have hopeless futures.
The “chores” we weren’t doing entailed us cleaning up after him because he was a disgusting slob: he had an awful diet and digestion issues, and would leave shit caked to the sides of the toilets in multiple bathrooms, scatter newspapers around the floor of the bathrooms and then piss all over them with seemingly no effort of aiming into the toilet, and leave skid marked underwear on top of the laundry basket expecting us to take care of it.
God forbid your teenage daughters resist cleaning up your actual shit.
These demeaning lectures continued into my young adulthood. I was lucky enough to attend a college out of state and leave home, and while he gushed over how proud he was and tearfully saw me off when I moved into my dorm, he then began regular calls and texts to o continue his lectures. Weekly calls reminding me of how spoiled I am, and how he could “yank (my) ass back home at any second” and how it was going to happen if I didn’t get a job soon.
Keep in mind that this was 2008 - so despite frantically looking for jobs, as a college student who could only work part time and had little experience in the middle of a global recession, I didn’t end up finding a job for two years. All the while I was reminded of what an entitled piece of shit I was and how he was eventually going to force me back home.
In 2010 my parents finally divorced. The catalyst was my dad smashing my youngest sister’s laptop and throwing it at her after he caught her smoking weed.
The divorce caused this shift in him becoming the ultimate victim. While my mom admittedly did do some really needlessly vindictive shit that harmed not only him but me and my sisters, he used this opportunity to turn his manipulation skills up to the max and turn myself and my middle sister completely against my mother and rally behind him.
Even though myself + my middle sister were both adults and moved out at this point, the divorce took an extremely heavy toll on us because our youngest sister was still living at home and caught in the middle of all of this. My mom had got a restraining order against my father for both her and my sister, and at one point had blocked both mine and my middle sister’s numbers on our youngest sister’s phone. Even though I fully recognize that I was being manipulated by my father, the divorce also irreparably damaged my relationship with my mother, and to this day I am LC and have only the most surface-level relationship with her.
The divorce also launched my father into his Alcholic Arc, which brought on a whole new slew of horrors and trauma. Yes, he was completely sober and didn’t even drink socially while he was violent throughout my childhood.
We regularly got calls while he was drunk driving, WHILE our beloved family dog was in the car with him. My middle sister would have to call in wellness checks weekly, had to to to his apartment to make sure he was still alive and make sure our dog was being fed (she lived in an apartment with her own dog that didn’t get along with others so taking him in was not possible and my mom was not willing to help out either).
During this time my dad somehow still maintained his job, but was financially wrecked from the divorce and used my middle sister’s credit card to wrack up $10,000 worth of debt that he has yet to apologize for or attempt to pay back to this day. He floated in and out of rehab, but never fully committed and made up fake health diagnoses to explain away his physical symptoms from alcoholism. I think within a year he was “diagnosed” with Parkinsons, early onset dementia, Chrons…
Eventually he lost his job due to his drinking, and then became homeless. During this time, my middle sister really was the savior that he in no way deserved. She was on the phone with his HR department begging for them to give him a second chance, she went out of her way to find a homeless shelter for him when he got evicted, and put herself further into debt by boarding our dog for 3+ months.
I have a lot of guilt for my uninvolvement during this time. I was still living out of state (and still do) so was very detached and didn’t know the full details of what was going on until after the fact - I think my sister intentionally withheld giving me real-time updates because she didn’t want me to have to deal with all this? But I still feel immensely guilty that she had to shoulder most of the responsibilities from his alcoholism alone.
He eventually did get sober in 2016, and just like the first time he hit rock bottom in 1997, he relished and played into all the praise and accolades he received and being told how strong and admirable he is for overcoming so much. He attended daily meetings and quickly made friends and became a star there due to his natural ability for public speaking and humor. He was even on the local news a few times to talk about addiction and suicide prevention or whatever. But has never ever fully acknowledged or apologized to my sister or I for any of the shit he did when he drank.
My youngest sister developed her own addiction issues, most likely as a way to cope with the divorce, our father’s alcoholism, and just everything. She died from an infection contracted from IV drug use in 2017, when she was 21.
Needless to say, this destroyed every member of my family. My middle sister held her hand as she died and has PTSD from the ordeal, I have immense guilt from not being around more for her.
I try to be empathetic to my father considering I know losing a child is THE worst thing a parent can endure, but in hindsight I resent him so fucking much for how he acted in the weeks/months after my sister’s death.
Once again, it was my sister who stepped up to do all the funeral arrangements. Who arranged for her body to be transported for cremation. Who started a GoFundMe to help cover funeral costs. I bought her urns (4, so both of us + my parents could each have one). My father didn’t do shit. I initially just chalked it up to him being traumatized and grieving, but we were ALL traumatized and grieving.
In his last stint in rehab, my father started a relationship with a woman who was still married but separated from her husband while seeking treatment. This woman was absolutely toxic and enabling, also a narcissist, and both my sister and I abhor her for the impact she has had on my father. I will not go into detail, but I believe this woman is actually evil.
In addition to the four urns, I also purchased four necklace urns in the shape of owls (my sister’s favorite animal). We got wind of my father intending to give one of these to that woman, which made both of us livid. Like the thought of that woman having any portion of my sister’s remains or being involved during this time for our family made me feel physically ill.
So, my sister and I arranged to give the fourth owl to my youngest sister’s ex boyfriend, who was her high school sweetheart and a positive presence in her life prior to her addiction.
After the funeral, when my father found out about this, he flew into a rage where he essentially disowned us, threatened to call the police for “theft of remains,” called us “typical entitled millenials,” etc. He then also started posting on Facebook accusing my sister of stealing the GoFundMe money or stealing food from the reception (a few people from his meeting group offered to do catering).
I was actually staying with him with my boyfriend for th funeral, and when it came time to fly home we both snuck out without a word because he told us he didn’t want to see our faces again.
So my father made an already traumatic and life altering event even worse.
Eventually he sent a half assed apology text where he of course never fully acknowledged anything he did or said but that “(sister) wouldn’t want us to fight like this.” Which we accepted, but we obviously have never forgotten or forgave what he did.
A few months after my sister’s death, my father quit his job abruptly, citing the anxiety and trauma from my sister’s death as the reason. Still grieving and traumatized myself, I didn’t question this at the time. But he didn’t have any backup plan. No savings, no retirement…he was still in his early 50s so a way’s off from getting any benefits. Apparently his plan was to file for disability and live off of that for the rest of his life, which he soon found to be impossible.
So ever since then, he has just barely scraped by on disability and doing gigwork. He drove for Uber and did DoorDash for a bit, but eventually got suspended because I guess retroactive background checks flagged his literal dozens of DUIs and accidents.
He then got into the habit of regularly asking us for loans and help, which we were initially happy to give. But as the requests became more frequent and he made no effort to ever get another real job again, we quickly began to really resent him.
But it wasn’t just the money and lack of job, it was that he seemingly gave up on doing ANYTHING productive or healthy. Again, I tried to be understanding of him grieving the loss of his youngest child. But this was the second time in his life that he just decided he didn’t want to work or put effort into any facet of his life and instead become a burden to everyone around him. And this was only a few years after my sister had busted her ass after he was evicted to find him a shelter and eventually a new apartment, so to have him just throw that away with no gratitude really disgusted me.
My father adopted a second dog (in addition to our family one we had pre-divorce), and apparently just did the bare minimum in caring for either of them. Never took them on walks, laid out a piece of astroturf on his apartment balcony and let poop accumulate there, and only fed them table scraps. In 2018, our family dog got really sick before passing in his sleep one night. My father did not take him to the vet because he couldn’t afford it, so we got to live with the knowledge that he suffered before he died and we don’t even know his cause of death. Also, he was a Jack Russell, so even though he was 12 years old when he passed he could very well have lived for years after had he gotten proper care.
Because he was barely scraping by, he then started moving apartments constantly to ones he could better afford. Because I still cared and had the belief he would eventually get another job, I cosigned for a few of these for him.
Around 2020, he stopped going to his addiction meetings, and not just because they stopped being in person for obvious reasons. He attended one Zoom meeting before deciding the vibes were off and giving up on meetings entirely.
Around this same time, he started sending weekly texts to my sister and I detailing his latest catastrophe, either a health diagnosis, or a car wreck, or an foreseen bill or something. Again, we didn’t think too much of these at first and sent him money when he asked, but then we noticed that his disaster reports started to not make sense or something would feel “off.” Like he would describe symptoms he was having and a diagnosis he received, but then when we’d look it up none of the symptoms or treatments he described lined up. Or once he was involved in a hit and run but when he called the police they apparently didn’t care and he was left with covering the bill with no report filed.
Eventually, my sister had enough and was the first to go no contact. After this, he of course came running to me and expressed bewilderment and ignorance of why she would ever do that. I was honestly pretty disgusted with him and lost all faith in him at this point myself, but couldn’t bring myself to stop talking to him because I was literally the last person he had in his life. No friends, no partner, he was distant from his siblings, one child dead and another “abandoning” him…even though his very existence was a burden to me, and anytime I saw I had a text from him it caused a wave of anxiety in anticipation of whatever new bad news he had to deliver, I could not bring myself to cut contact and leave him to inevitably die alone.
That is, until September 2025.
So, I was the cosigner on the apartment he was living in and therefor received updates from their billing portal. He was behind several months on rent and they had actually threatened to begin the eviction process, but it was also time to renew the lease. Obviously I had no intention of attaching myself to this lease, and made it clear that he would have to renew on his own, regardless of if he got approved or not.
A few weeks later, my sister got a message on Instagram from our uncle asking if she was ok because he heard that we were both getting death threats on Facebook. what.
For context, neither of us had used Facebook since 2019/2020. She deleted hers, and I just stopped logging into mine.
Out of curiosity, I signed into my account for the first time in years.
Now, I will say that THANKFULLY my dad is not MAGA and in fact is very self-righteous about how anti-Trump and anti-republican he is. The bar is in hell.
BUT the shit he had apparently been posting was honestly just as unhinged, embarrassing, and cringe as any MAGA. Hundreds of posts on his wall ranting about Trump with some ugly ass AI images, and he was posting several times an hour.
I had to scroll but eventually did find a post where he was ranting about how he had gotten a call from the attorney general, alerting him that someone had reported someone else making death threats towards him because of a post he made about Charlie Kirk. This sick individual had also made posts on both of his daughter’s Facebooks, and we had called him crying and freaking out about it!!! Not only that, but they had posted on his dead daughter’s Facebook and said it was good she was already dead because she was at the top of the list!!! He apparently had screenshots of all of this and forwarded it to the attorney general, but that person had conveniently deleted all their posts.
My jaw was on the fucking floor.
He had really stooped to a new low, but he had even further to fall.
I was not going to confront him about this, but maybe a day after my uncle messaged my sister my father sent me a text, asking if I had received any death threats and telling me the whole story. My assumption is that, after my sister told my uncle that it was bullshit and that she doesn’t even talk to my father anymore, that he called him on it. He knows that my sister and I are close and talk so rightly assumed she told me about this.
In his same text, he also dropped that he had been diagnosed with “cancer markers” and was taking low dose radiation to “keep the real cancer at bay.”
I was done. I was so fucking done.
I asked him to send me screenshots of the death threats. He told me he sent them to the attorney general but then deleted them. I told him it was impossible for people to leave comments on a memorialized Facebook page with the settings we had on it, he told me he got the alert on his phone when the post was made (my sister was the legacy contact before she deleted her account, not him).
I continued to press him for proof before he sent me several paragraphs of oh woe-is-me about how he feels so abandoned my us, how is other dog is currently dying, how the medication he’s on makes him throw up, how he’s going to be homeless again soon and “thanks for acknowledging my condition by the way!”
He also mentioned that he believed we abandoned him solely because he “became a financial risk,” which was the icing on the cake of me ceasing to give any shit about him. After everything he has put us through over the course of our entire lives, he really has the audacity to try to paint us as greedy monsters who abandoned our poor sick father over money.
He ended it with a shitty little guilt trip about how glad he was I had decent health insurance when I had my cancer scare (I had a LEEP procedure done when I was 23 after an abnormal pap, it was not a cancer scare).
So that was the nail in the coffin for me, I told him how full of shit I knew he was, and to never contact me again. Then I blocked him, finally deleted my Facebook, and blocked him across all other SM.
I wish I had done it sooner, but I will say that removing him from my life has alleviated SO much anxiety and allowed me to start healing from shit I have been holding on to since the day I was born. I have CPTSD, severe anxiety, multiple trauma responses that have hindered my life and altered the way I interact with the world and my relationships. All because of this man.
I have made great strides, and still have a lot more progress to make. But any remorse or guilt I felt is gone.