My Daddy Scared Me

By: Marc McMahon

I want to share something that has been eating at me I think but I haven’t really known how to share it all. The words to use or the tone. Then the question do I really want my dad to maybe read this now? Not my hope but never the less I think I am gonna try and I don’t know it all kinda seems silly but was very real for me. I think first I should say, would like to say that I love my dad today, we have a great relationship that blows my mind I see him for who he is now and am ok with it today. Frustrated by it, but ok with it, there is a difference.

I have been trying to figure out what brought on this bought of depression I been going through. It started about 5 months ago and is just now with medication starting to mellow out to where I can start to function normally again. It has been very difficult for me lately although I don’t share it much recently but I will once I start to feel better.


But my dad came down for a visit in November for a week and stayed with me we discussed him moving here and hung out and it was great for 2 days then I could not stand to be around him anymore. I just wanted him to leave just like I wanted to always run away from his abusive discipline all the time as a child. You know I hated him growing up, I hated living in my house, and I tried running away many times. But it was so confusing for me because the same house I hated living in also was the house I was captain of all my baseball teams at and same with football. My mom was president of my football booster club while my father never came to a game after 8th grade.

Try swallowing that when your friend’s dad is the one to pat you on the back after another all-star performance. Was normal for me then it seemed, it was just the way it was, the way it had always been. I couldn’t and wouldn’t allow myself to think any differently. What was the point? The only consistent thing in my house growing up was a bitchy mom who I watched get hit for it. And a dad who beat my ass when I screwed up. So guess what? I quit screwing up early on. How many teenage boys do you know from the 1980’s who had long hair, leather jackets, and Metallica shirts do you know that never got detention, in school suspension, unexcused tardy, none right lol. Especially the pot smoking variety like I was.


Now in the midst of that attire mind you I was a jock in disguise lol but still. I never ever got any of those. A model student with horrible grades. I acted right because I had to, scared of the consequences because you just never knew what would happen. All you do is wait in your room for dad to come home and mom to tell him what you did. So you sit in your room till he gets home because mom told you to. Then based on past experiences as soon as you hear his truck coming down the road not even home yet mind you, and you start to cry! Tears of sheer terror, Fear with that capital.


You hear him close his door and you cringe. You hear the front door to the house open you cringe again. While you listen to mom tell him as soon as he walks up the stairs you begin to cry harder. Then as he descends the stairs and down the hallway to your room your crying becomes intense and your body starts to quiver uncontrollably. Until the door Flys open and you immediately stop shaking and only cry because he hates it when you shake! God, I fucking hate him for those days excuse my french please, but damn I was a young. This started in third grade and didn’t stop until I was 17.

I am not gonna tell you what he would do right now its another story but do realize that until about 3 years ago I never considered my stepdad abusive. Seriously I always thought that was just normal and even though I knew better I think out of self-preservation I just made myself believe it was normal. Even though I found it quite embarrassing as a high school stud linebacker in football who cried if his dad even raised his voice to him at all. Ya, I could, not, not cry if he raised his voice to me at all it was bizarre. Today I know why. The man I grew up with, the one I called my dad and do today, scared the living shit out of me for years and rightfully so!

But you want to know what the hardest part is. It is trying to come to terms with how confusing it all was. I mean this same man I feared also coached my baseball team I was proud of and proud he coached yet I could run away from home any day. He would always hunt me down like a wild game animal vowing to not stop until he found me. Driving to each and every one of my friend’s houses and personally going to the door to see if I was there and if not inform them he would not stop looking for me until he found me so I should just go home. Scary shit!!! I always went home, I had to he meant what he said always!

Wow, there is a lot more of this in me than I thought. I think now I’ll continue this with my therapist tomorrow and go from there then I will share some more with you all. Thank you for exploring these feelings with me it makes it safer for me to not do it alone and with you all, I never am so for that thanks for making a guy feel special today, I love you.

About the Author: Marc is a 48-year-old Author, Speaker, and Soldier in a war to loosen the grasp that Substance Abuse has on our society. He is a Father, Son, and friend to all those seeking refuge from this incorrigible disease. Marc resides in the beautiful Pacific Northwest where he enjoys, writing, hiking, and kicking the disease of addiction in the teeth, every chance he gets. As Marc always likes to say, “be blessed, my friends!”



6 thoughts on “My Daddy Scared Me

  1. Dear Marc,
    Do not doubt yourself: what you write about IS abuse. Why you never thought of it like that before? I am thinking that has to do with the workings of an addiction. Child go into survival mode emotionally and physically when we experience a threat. To a baby, a child, a teenager, even to adults: parents who are violent are unsafe. And the body knows unsafety may lead to death, so we do all kinds of things to either save ourself (running away) or, if not, develop coping mechanisms. Addiction and ‘forgetting about things’ are coping mechanisms. In the past 3,5 years I keep on falling, stumbling, tumbling into memories which I had ‘forgotten’ about. It is no such magic as hidden memorie, it is like cleaning up your house and finding stuff in a corner which has been there for years and suddenly you REALISE that it is there. For me that is sort of what un-addicting is about: finding stuff in a corner and sorting it out.
    Did you happen to read my post ‘the land of no self-hate’? The video from Teal Swan in there very explains how things work. 😦 How abuse turns into destructive behaviour in a child. . It sort of explains that we can not give what we have not been given. Which is by NO excuse for your father’s, or anybody’s behavior, but it is, well, what it is: What we do to another is how we learned to survive. 😦 And mostly it is what we do to ourselves. 😦 Not sure if it connects. I thought you might like Teal, she is a bit ‘acquired taste’ and she sometimes says stuff I do not agree with but, well, you might want to check her out. Also, Jeff Brown and Jeff Foster are current wiseguys. Jeff Brown is very much into undoing the patriachal patterns of this society. I think you’ll like him. He speaks clear and simple.
    Sending hugs,
    xx, Feeling
    PS: we have a saying in the Netherlands: ‘Bezoek en vis blijven 3 dagen fris.’ Translates into: Visitors and fish both stay fresh only 3 days. Unless one is intimate (giving up borders) then nobody appreciates company more than 2-3 days. It can actually ruin friendships to overstay. 🙂 We’re all just human.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I remember a few times my dad spanked me “unfairly”. He did it in a sneaky way, so I didn’t know it was coming. One time I was a teenager. It was horrible. It was not ok.
    I had to work through those times, and I finally was able to forgive him, but those few times are stuck in my body. Time has helped make them way less powerful.
    Much Love,

    Liked by 2 people

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