This brought up something I never talked about until now and pushed down and forgot about.
I was approximately 11 or 12. My first real girlfriend. Holding hands, talking on the phone. Smooches, nothing too crazy. She lived in a huge house in a really good neighborhood. I will go over there on the weekends. This happened for four or five months.
One weekend, I don’t know how I found out of the specifics, but I was unable to see her and didn’t really understand why.
Before I go any further, warning trama warning, don’t read any further if you’re sensitive.
The father shot everyone in the house except for one of the younger sisters. Murder suicide situation.
Wait, I remember a little more. How I found out. my parents went to drop me off at their house and their cops and police tape everywhere.
I never realized how deep my subconscious that event has been pushed down and why I feel the need to speak about it, now. Thank you, poster. Maybe I can deal with it now that I remember it.
Yeah, exactly. Packing my bags and going elsewhere for a while was actually something I did when I felt really depressed and I had gotten a little too suicidal.
I’ve not heard detailed accounts of many of these kinds of crimes, but the ones I vaguely remember seem to have been done by the kind of asshole with a huge stick up their ass, who snap from desperately keeping up appearances to going all the way to the craziest, cruellest, most drastic option.
I feel like there’s no good reason to not stop and consider the other crazy life decisions one might take that actually have a chance of turning out good, and are comparatively much less crazy than their pointless nuclear option.
And if none of the alternatives work out, if they’ve done all the packing of bags, – living as a hippie, trying out for Broadway, helping out on a farm and going hunting with the locals, getting a small dinghy and living off fishing on some island, studying Taiwanese Mandarin and computer science and trying to get involved in the chip industry, or going full modern hermit sitting on your ass collecting welfare checks eating cheap and playing terrible video games all day (except maybe lifting weights every few days and being a total slut on Tinder) – if they’ve done all that they can stomach, with no desire to try anything more and no capacity to endure any more, then checking out without taking anyone with them is fair enough. They don’t owe it to any of us to stick it out. But they’ve no right to take with them their family that they don’t love right.
This brought up something I never talked about until now and pushed down and forgot about.
I was approximately 11 or 12. My first real girlfriend. Holding hands, talking on the phone. Smooches, nothing too crazy. She lived in a huge house in a really good neighborhood. I will go over there on the weekends. This happened for four or five months.
One weekend, I don’t know how I found out of the specifics, but I was unable to see her and didn’t really understand why.
Before I go any further, warning trama warning, don’t read any further if you’re sensitive.
The father shot everyone in the house except for one of the younger sisters. Murder suicide situation.
Wait, I remember a little more. How I found out. my parents went to drop me off at their house and their cops and police tape everywhere.
I never realized how deep my subconscious that event has been pushed down and why I feel the need to speak about it, now. Thank you, poster. Maybe I can deal with it now that I remember it.
It’s insane that some men think this kind of murder suicide is the right response to anything.
Agreed this was in the 80s. Not sure if it was more rare back then or not.
Terrible response. Why don’t they just pack their bags and go somewhere instead. It seems pretty drastic.
Yeah, exactly. Packing my bags and going elsewhere for a while was actually something I did when I felt really depressed and I had gotten a little too suicidal.
I’ve not heard detailed accounts of many of these kinds of crimes, but the ones I vaguely remember seem to have been done by the kind of asshole with a huge stick up their ass, who snap from desperately keeping up appearances to going all the way to the craziest, cruellest, most drastic option.
I feel like there’s no good reason to not stop and consider the other crazy life decisions one might take that actually have a chance of turning out good, and are comparatively much less crazy than their pointless nuclear option.
And if none of the alternatives work out, if they’ve done all the packing of bags, – living as a hippie, trying out for Broadway, helping out on a farm and going hunting with the locals, getting a small dinghy and living off fishing on some island, studying Taiwanese Mandarin and computer science and trying to get involved in the chip industry, or going full modern hermit sitting on your ass collecting welfare checks eating cheap and playing terrible video games all day (except maybe lifting weights every few days and being a total slut on Tinder) – if they’ve done all that they can stomach, with no desire to try anything more and no capacity to endure any more, then checking out without taking anyone with them is fair enough. They don’t owe it to any of us to stick it out. But they’ve no right to take with them their family that they don’t love right.