Welcome to part II of my personal story, This time I’m writing about a few father & son outing that went wrong. Be warned, it’s a long one.
Thanks for checking out the second post in this series, I know it’s unusual to see such a personal post on a sex toy blog but for as much as this blog is about reviewing sex toys it’s also about being an outlet, This blog originated as a creative outlet for me to be able to explore my sexuality and for me to develop as a person and this series is an extension of that although to a more extreme degree. What will be contained in this and future posts in this series are my personal recollections of previous events in my life, In an unfiltered and uncensored fashion, Some of these posts may be extremely sad and hard to read for some people while other posts could be about generally happy events in my life. Before the main body in each post will be a bolded and bracketed line of text containing possible triggers that may upset or otherwise make people uncomfortable so please read at your own discretion.
(Triggers: Alcoholism, Death, Drowning, Severe Injury)
For almost the entirety of my pre adult life I lived with my mother, step father and my siblings, While I may not have lived with my biological father we visited very often and he was a big part of our lives. I always had much more in common with my biological father than my step father, Not that my step father is a bad or uninteresting person but both me and my father always had similar interests. When I visited my father we often went camping or worked on computer together, He taught me a lot of skills that I still use on a daily basis like the importance of critical thinking, process of elimination, how to cook and much more, He was instrumental in shaping the kind of person I’ve become.
I grew up quite sheltered from a lot of things, We didn’t have a lot of money growing up so we didn’t get out much, Because of this there were a lot of things that I simply didn’t know about or didn’t realize the real world implications of, Like alcohol. We didn’t have cable at all growing up, We had a TV and a few video games and old VHS tapes but that was it, And neither my step father or my mother drank at all so I really was never exposed to anything to do with alcohol and the thought of a beverage that you could drink that could change the way you behaved or thought had never crossed my mind. My only real experience with alcohol was when I visited my father but it was never really discussed other than “Oh that’s beer” what it actually was or what it did was never explained at any point. My parents divorced when I was less than a year old, The reasons why were never really discussed but I would find out later that a large portion of it was my fathers drinking which would have been handy information given how the events later on would unfold.
One summer shortly before the beginning of my first post in the series I went to visit my father who was then living about a 5 hour drive away, He drove all the way to come pick me up and we had a great time on the drive back. The entire way there we played games and he filled me in on new things in computers, we talked about cars and engines and he filled me in on our fishing trip he had planned on the end of the week. Rest of the week was amazing and was filled with good times and great food, playing video games and getting to use his pellet gun in the back yard. The real issues started on the second to last day when we were going to get up really early and head to the local lake to go fishing, What should have been a wonderful day out with my father turned into a traumatic experience.
We both woke up fairly early, fumbled around in the early morning dark to get dressed and pack our lunches and food for the day. After a considerable amount of time we packed up the truck and headed out towards the lake, It was about an hour-long drive each direction but it didn’t seem to take nearly that long to get to the lake. We loaded all of our gear into the boat and set off for one of my fathers fishing spots and most of the morning was relaxing and enjoyable, A lot of silence and enjoying the scenery, We even got to watch an old steam train pass by the edge of the lake.(Yes, I was one of those train crazy kids, Because trains are awesome) Only at around lunch time did things start to take a turn for the worst, While I was eating my lunch so was my father but what I didn’t realize at the time was that he had packed a 30 case of beer into the cooler we had brought with us and he started drinking while we were fishing. You have to remember that at this point in my life I had no experience with alcohol, I knew that he was drinking beer but I had no idea of how that would affect him, It wasn’t an issue other than him getting louder and our rate of catching fish plummeted – Not until we decided to head back that was.
We had originally planned on heading back in around dinner time and grabbing some food at a restaurant along the way, But the weather had turned stormy really fast so we decided to head back in early to mid afternoon, By this time my father had finished almost all of the 30 beers in the cooler. While headed back to shore I distinctly remember my father asking “Want to have some fun?” and me screaming “No” because I was never comfortable on rough waters, and I had never learned how to swim, My father being drunk took my no as a yes and proceeded to rip the throttle wide open and carve through the increasingly water. Nearly paralyzed from fear all I could do was grip the sides of the metal boat as hard as I could while my father laughed at me for being scared of his driving and the rough waters, It wasn’t long until he hit a wave extra hard at an odd angle which pitched me straight out of the boat and into the water. Anyone who lives in BC or anywhere with mild summer temperatures and glacier fed lakes can attest that even in summer the lakes are freezing cold barring an extremely warm summer, Soon as I hit the water I could feel my muscles tense from the cold, I flailed around for a while trying to keep my head above water and fighting with the life-preserver until my father brought the boat back around close enough for me to cling to. After managing to pull myself back into the boat with no help from my father who was too busy laughing at the situation we got the boat to shore.
I spent the next 20-30 minutes trying to dry myself off with greasy shop rags that were in the boat house while my father gathered up all the stuff from the boat and secured the boat to the dock. After what seemed like ages we got into the truck and at this point you would think that he would use his phone to call someone to pick us up because he was clearly drunk, But he didn’t. The road that led to and from the lake was a narrow one and was made mostly of hard packed dirt for several kilometers before finally giving way to asphalt, It was the longest drive of my life. We were driving a large late 70’s Ford Bronco at the time which took up most of the small dirt road and a wide truck with a rock face on one side and a 20 meter drop on the other with a drunk person behind the wheel is a terrifying experience, I was so cold I don’t remember much other than after a while I just stopped looking out the windows and stared at the floor because it was easier, One thing I do remember though is the song that my father had on at the time because he had it on repeat the whole way and sung along to it while I was huddled in the passenger seat getting mild hypothermia and fearing for my life. Things got a little better once the paved road started and I think some of his drunkenness had worn off. Finally after what seemed like eternity we got back to the house and I didn’t have the energy to do anything other than go inside and strip off my wet clothes and put dry ones on. I didn’t come out of the room till the next day when my parents had arrived to pick me up, I said nothing to my father loaded my stuff into the car and then fell asleep on the ride home because I hadn’t slept that night.
A few years later, Around 7 months after the events in Part I I was invited back to go visit my father, And for whatever messed up reason I convinced myself that it was a good idea. Upon arriving at my father’s house the he sat me down and apologized profusely for what had happened last time, and that he wouldn’t have anything to drink the entire time I was there and for the entire time that I was there everything went a lot better. About a week and half into my two-week stay my father had recommended that we go out fishing again, Given the good week and the apology I reluctantly agreed to go fishing the next day, But at the time there was no way I could have known that I would be one of the most traumatic days of my life.
The fishing trip started off the same as last time with an early morning shuffle to get dressed and get everything packed for the day and then off to the lake. And for the first few hours everything was fine, We had caught a few good-sized trout but the area of the lake we were in was starting to get a bit crowded so we decided to head for a different area, We fired up the outboard motor and headed nearly to the other side of the lake when the engine made a gurgling noise and cut out. My father said that the engine had been giving him some issues lately but he thought he had fixed it as it hadn’t acted up in a while, He pulled the cowling off the engine and started tinkering with it hoping to get it running again and after a while he was ready to give it another go. The engine was an older model and didn’t have an electric start, It required a pull on a cord to start it much like a lawnmower or chainsaw, But when my father pulled the cord the combination of the force required to pull the cord and poor footing caused my father to fall out of the boat and into the water. At the same time that my father fell into the water the engine of the boat had started back up again, I immediately scrambled over to try to help him back into the boat but when I reached for something to steady myself on I mistakenly grabbed the side of the boat and the throttle control stalk on the motor, When I reached down to try to grab his arm I twisted the throttle and send the boat surging forward which ended up tossing me out of the boat as well.
This summer was a lot cooler than the last time I was thrown from the boat, The water felt like it was stabbing me and I could barely breathe, As bad as it sounds soon as I hit the water the thought of my father drowning as well didn’t even cross my mind, the only thing I could think of was getting back into the boat. Somehow I managed to keep my head above water long enough to see where the boat had gone and I managed to flail and make my way to the boat, It took every ounce of strength I had left to haul myself into the boat and the only thing I remember after that was searing hot pain across my back before I blacked out.
I woke up 4 days later in the hospital with my back in excruciating pain, It turns out that when I fell out of the boat my back slid along the back of the boat where the propeller was, It carved three large gashes into my back that required 71 stitches and several staples to close. It was several minutes before someone came into the room and realized I was awake, She told me about the injuries and that a fellow fisherman had seen me in the boat and I was medevaced to the hospital, But after that she asked me a question that I hadn’t even thought of since I woke up “Was there anyone else on the boat with you?” I immediately broke down into tears – My father had drowned.
The physical recovery from that took a long time and was extremely unpleasant, I have three extremely large and sensitive scars across my back and they will never go away but that’s nothing compared to the emotional effect that I’ve struggled with since then. Small boats terrify me, I can’t set foot anywhere near them, The only boats I can handle are the ones large enough to feel like a solid surface. Lakes and ponds are a source of unease and bad memories and can send me into emotional breakdowns. Last year when me and a few friends were out a pub for drinks someone put on the song that was playing while my father drove home drunk and I completely broke down and had to be taken home. Not to mention the gut wrenching feeling I get whenever someone asks me about my father, Nothing about dealing with this has been easy and it’s a constant source of triggers for my PTSD but I’m in a place now where I can write about it an share it. Writing this post has been extremely difficult but also extremely therapeutic and I want to thank anyone who’s taken the time to read through the entire thing.
– Perineum Plunders