This was written because my mental health today, is more important to me than my daddy’s presence, and my mother’s ignorant beliefs ever were, and ever will be.

This is an essay I wrote about my daddy, and the mental stress he has caused me throughout my life from childhood to mid-life. I originally wrote this on Facebook on Sunday, October 3rd, 2021. I spent a month working on this from the original writing because I was not satisfied with the few original details I had documented, and I felt like this work needed the full details treatment. This is the final result. There will always be more that I can add to this. Maybe I will at some point. Maybe I won’t.


Tonight I solved the riddle to what has brought some of the most unhappiness, and mental stress in my life. It wasn’t as much a “gay or “straight” issue as I initially thought, after recently being judged by my mother with her religious bullshit back in March 2021. That was just the trigger that pissed me off enough to make me start using my brain cells, instead of passively trying to ignore the real issue through life, and keep everyone else not really involved, happy, while forgetting my own happiness.

My mother claims she didn’t judge me, however as someone raised in the biggest bible belt of Alabama, I know well that if you can’t discuss “gay” without flinging around a bible verse, you are in fact judging somebody based on your ignorant, and uneducated beliefs.

I completely despise loud mouth, angry people. I always have from a very young age, and my daddy is the loudest one I ever met. He’s also the most homophobic, and racist person I’ve ever met.

I have known my daddy to have some very extreme anger issues from the time my mother dragged me into her relationship with him at a very young age. I can still hear his screaming in my head from when I was 5 years old, yapping like a rabies infested, chihuahua and pug mix breed mutt, and I’m 51 now. My daddy also has some very controlling issues when it comes to authority over who he thinks he owns. I never appreciated one bit of it, especially considering there was a time his name was not listed on my birth certificate.

I can remember as far back as grade school, coming home from school, and keeping an eye on the clock, so that I would know around what time he would be coming home from work, and deciding it was time to escape off into the woods for awhile to avoid his presence as much as possible. I remember regretting many times being called to eat dinner, because I didn’t want to sit at the kitchen table with him, but when you had no other choice…

It was always difficult to enjoy the meal my mother cooked. No one knew if he would go on a rampage about how he didn’t like the food, or it wasn’t cooked “just right”. When dinner was over, I would go to my room and try my best to avoid his presence in the residence (again). I simply couldn’t stand to hear his voice. To this day, I hate to hear the man speak. I didn’t care for the way he raised his voice to my mother either, especially considering my mother was a beautiful woman back in the day, and did not have to settle for the trash he can be.

I don’t ever remember a time that I appreciated his presence, at least not on any scale that required grattitude for a “father / son” relationship… because there has never really been one outside of the times I had no choice but to show tolerance for his presence.

My daddy’s hobby is one called “coon hunting”. I’ve always thought it was a stupid sport, if that’s what coon hunters like to call it. There was always definitely one good thing about it however. The nights when he left to “tree a coon” (as they call it) was always some of the best times for me growing up, because for awhile, it meant he wouldn’t be seen or heard. Not seeing, or hearing him has always been the most peaceful times in my life, and I can’t remember a single conversation with him I actually cared to participate in.

In regards to my daddy’s homophobia, I started noticing it before my teenage years. This man cornered me in the front yard when I was around 9 or 10 years old, and told me that if one of his kids ever “turned” gay, he would shoot him between the eyes. This was long before I ever knew what “gay” was. He must have known before I did, or suspected that I was gay, and would grow up to be a gay man. At 9 years old, all I had on my mind was Hot Wheels and the front yard dirt roads I would make. It wasn’t until high school when I realized I liked boys, but I didn’t really start thinking about sexual attraction until I found my uncles porn collection in 1989 (shut up – that’s funny and you know it), but don’t let me get off track here.

As an adult now, this is what I think about what my daddy said to me that day. Someone who would say some shit like that to an innocent child is a straight piece of shit in my book… and an ignorant one too. Nobody just “turns” gay. I would bet that he wouldn’t even remember that, or would deny it… because that’s the type he is. I’m also sure he’s the type who thinks he can just say whatever to a child, and it don’t matter how his ignorant words will effect that person through life.

I still remember that event as if it happened just now. It was very odd in a way, and happened very quick. It was a sunny day. I was outside in the front yard alone, standing next to the biggest pine tree that used to be there, and I was listening to a small AM / FM radio (the first radio I had ever owned – a prized possesion for me at that young age). My not so much beloved “father” came out of the front door of the dilapidated single-wide trailer his poor ass housed us all in, and walked across the yard to me and simply stated something about how he didn’t believe men who loved men shouldn’t be allowed to live, and that if he ever suspected one of us to be that way, that he would get a gun and shoot him in the head. I can still remember my exact thought as I watched him walk away. That’s an asshole.

Given the fact that I realize this man comes from another generation where they had no better upbringing, I’ve realized this was probably a form of scare tactic he tried to use in attempt to try and sway me from “turning” gay if it was in fact something he suspected, and that “gay” is some voodoo bullshit you can “break the spell” by throwing ignorant threats. What he actually accomplished was being recognized as an uncaring coward. I don’t care what your upbringing is. Common sense should a tell a man, even the uneducated ones, that nobody chooses to be gay just so that they can be subjected to cruelty such as that which I have just told.

This is how I think my daddy is a coward. I have repeatedly listened to this man say some ignorantly racist things throughout my life. It would usually happen during a time that I (not by choice) ended up in his living room with him, watching something on tv – one of his lame ass movies he enjoys probably. Things he would say against black people for example, or anyone who isn’t white. According to him, black people are stupid just because they are black. But as much hate as I’ve known him to have for black people, I’ve never seen him ball up and say that to a black man’s face. I would actually love to see him do that before he dies. I don’t believe the outcome would work out well in his favor, and I would be the last one to stand up for him over it.

This is the same guy who did not attend my high school graduation after I was coerced by my mother into giving consent to having my name changed to secure the rights of inheritance to land – that I didn’t get, because going hunting that night was more important to him. Oh yeah, that “adoption” was by my consent – not his, not for him, not for me, but for my mother, and considerably for my brothers. I was almost legal adult age when I was asked by my mother to allow that name change to happen, because that name change legally could not be done so close to my almost legal adult age without my consent… I never asked to be adopted. She was very pressing about it. She used every excuse she could think of to make it seem like that name change was important to nobody but me. I however know the truth.

I’m guessing my parents never assumed I figured out the reason they waited so long for suddenly wanting that, was because he didn’t want actual financial responsibility while I was young… Which would explain why he never took me to a dentist back in the day, and my mother knew the TRUTH would come out when I got out into the real world, that he is not my biological father, and that people would wonder about her after they spent years lieing to society about who I am. It’s in my grade school, and high school records that my last name was “Thrift”… but it wasn’t lol.

I remember very clearly the day that I was dragged into the lawyer’s office – Mrs. Margaret Mayfield to be exact. This lawyer brought to light a fact to me that for a minute, I had control over my daddy, and who, and what he thought he owned. I realized as I was listening to this lawyer explain to me that because I was over the age of 12, I have to give consent verbally and by signature to allow her to continue with the “adoption”, that this is a life changing event that I have to make a decision on. Do I actually want his name? Or do I want to go on and be myself, and show that man his real level of importance to me? Knowing how important this decision was to my mother, and because in my eyes and mind, my brothers were just that – my brothers, I signed the agreement. I did not walk out of that lawyers office that day with any pride that my birth certificate would be re-written with my daddy’s name on it after all the mental abuse I had endured from his anger issues up to that point in my life, but at least my brothers and I would legally share the same name. I’m sure my mother was proud that she got her way and accomplished her mission. I’m sure she thought these truths would never be spoken (or rather written) as well.

My daddy has never once saw me in the hospital, but let one of the other ones end up there, and he definitely was there. He ran his mouth to me endlessly from the time I was around 17, and worse at 19, about how I should go in the Army, until I finally gave in, and signed the next 4 years of my life away at the age of 19… just weeks before turning 20. But he wasn’t man enough, father enough, nor cared enough to visit me where I was staying with his mother (my grandmother), and uncle before I left. I’m sure he and my mother thought it was my responsibility to go see them instead… WRONG, since it was not my real choice to go in the Army. What do you think that means… that guy was glad to get rid of me apparently lol, and I’m sure he felt like he was some glorious influence in my life for it. He wasn’t. Whatever. I joke about that to myself sometimes now, because I’m older and I can… but at the time… the military was not what I wanted to do.

I don’t know what I would have ended up doing at that age if not that, but the military was not a decision I made for myself. It was one I made so that I wouldn’t have to hear about it again. During the years I spent in the military, whenever I would call home, if he answered the phone, I would simply ask to speak to my mother. I had nothing I cared to discuss with him. I really didn’t care to discuss the military with her as well. Many times, the only reason I would call home is because the military has regulations requiring it.

To anyone who has ever wondered why I never felt a need to show anything more than tolerance, and not admiration for that guy, these are just a few examples of how my daddy’s anger issues, and some stupid ass shit he has said to me, affected me throughout my childhood, and even my adult life when I couldn’t see or hear him, including now – because I hear him in my fucking head.

Yes, his anger, and his loud ass mouth was, and is THAT BAD. I think there is something very insecure about a person with the extreme anger issues he has. It has never mattered how many cars he’s fixed because in my mind, everything goes back to sorting out and filtering out the mental abuse from enduring years of it at a young age, and I have spent so much time in my life cherishing every minute of peace I have when he isn’t around. It is difficult for me to pretend to enjoy his presence, even when he’s not running his mouth.

The biggest thing however that really boils my blood is that in 2005, after coming out of the closet finally that I am in fact a gay man, this guy, my daddy, had the audacity to inform me that he didn’t “want to know” about my “lifestyle”. It’s funny though, he knows nothing about my “lifestyle”. I’m guessing all he knows, or thinks he knows is whatever stereotypical bullshit he thinks gay men and women do.

What is even funnier is that as big and tough as he likes to talk, and get angry at shit for nothing, he would not have survived the military like I did. They would have broke him. Maybe he’s the one that needed the military.

I’ve realized the real reason I stopped visiting my parents was because of anticipation of another one of his temper outbursts, or I just don’t care to hear any ignorant ass shit he might have to say – because it’s always some ignorant ass shit with him, and subconsciously I decided as an adult, I don’t have to tolerate it, nor associate myself with it… because I don’t have to. I now know also why I was never really impressed with him, but never pinpointed it until today.

I was groomed to “accept” his idea of “raising” as a norm, and I’ve also realized my daddy can go jump off a damn bridge, and I would enjoy reading the paper about it. I would even laminate the article for archiving, and reminder that I wouldn’t have to hear him again. It all makes perfect sense as well now why I can be so easily content to live alone in PEACE and QUIET.

This is a man who decided in 2005 that he’d rather not know about my life because he can’t handle having a GAY son… a “son” who never asked to know him to begin with.

This is a man who threw a small child (me) clear across the living room, into the far end wall because he couldn’t handle the fact that I’d been told he was not my biological father. For that, I am grateful that his blood does not run through me.

These words, “I ain’t nothing of yours” ring as clear in my ears, as they did the day I screamed them at him when he came home from work, started tickling me, playing around, and would not stop. I cannot stand to be tickled. I screamed those words in anger, while he was going on about his drivel saying, “that’s my boy” while jabbing me with his bony ass fingers in my side, and attempt to make him stop tickling me. Two seconds after saying those words, I found myself picked up off the floor, flying through the air, crashing into the far corner wall, and falling between the wall, and arm of a wood frame couch. My mother was in the kitchen cooking something. As I hit the floor, and started crying, I heard her scream out “Don’t kill him”, and all hell broke loose between her and him. I heard him scream at her “Maybe he needs to go back to Kentucky” (the state she was from, and where I was born). There have been quite a number a times in my life during run ins with my daddy, that I wished I had in fact been sent back. I believe it had been just a very short time before that event that my mother told me about how he was not my biological father, but those words “I ain’t nothing of yours” in my mind had nothing to do with that. I was just a pissed off baby trying to make that moron get the fuck up off of me. I did not ask for a fucking flying lesson.

This is a man who has carelessly ridiculed the clothes I wore as if he thought his opinion mattered to me, as well as judged my friends in prior decades of my younger years, but somehow expects that I respect him… “Your friend is a little gay ain’t he?”…. Said while wearing the same shirt he’d been wearing every day after day after day… Really… My friend may have been gay actually but that wasn’t any of my daddy’s business… especially if he didn’t want to know about “gay”.

This is a man who has never inspired creativity in my life. I refused to learn about fixing cars with him because I couldn’t stand to sit around and listen to him. Any positive outlook I’ve acquired in life at a young age was taken from my mother. I have never missed my daddy for any reason that I can remember. I used to love it when he would take out of town jobs for weeks at a time, and we didn’t see him during that time. During those times, I could be myself without worrying about is the way I am going to offend him. It was always a drag to hear he would be coming back home. Many times I had hoped that he wouldn’t.

If fatherhood was a report card, I would give him an “E” for effort. There would be no bonus points.

I suppose I can at least thank him for the shit on the shingles (chopped hamburger meat with gravy) plate he provided on his kitchen table he sat me around nearly every day so he could build up his “fatherly” ego by talking shit (calling me stupid every chance he could get) to a child he didn’t really want anything to do with when what he should have been doing was get an education so that he could provide better groceries for my mother to cook.

It might have changed my overall opinions of him to something more appreciative, if he had shown better acceptance and tolerance of the child I was, and the man I am today, looking back on his presence.

Others may not have any issues with his flamboyant behaviour, then or now, however I’M NOT THE ONE. I never was the one. I just kept it to myself, until now.

You can’t be homely as hell, and loud as hell at the same time, all the damn time. It’s too much for some folks to take.

I hate this got put out publicly like this (no I don’t), but this is for my own mental health and happiness. The alternative was continuing to keep this bullshit bottled up… and FUCK THAT!

Perhaps he should have chose more peaceful ways with a young person to resolve issues with that wouldn’t cause mental issues that person would have to solve later in life, like I just did… Perhaps he should have set a better example for himself to look up to. Every opinion I’ve ever had, and ever will have of him, is, was, and will always be by his own actions.

At 51 now, when I think about “dear old dad”, I can only laugh and take pity on the guy. These reflections on his involvement in my life and “raising” are all clear indications that he, and whoever he may have called friends in his equivalent years to mine that I speak of, must have been complete shitty pricks I never would have wanted to hang out with had I grown up in his era. That’s probably a good reason I’ve never cared to hang out with the guy as his “son”.

DISCLAIMER: This post is not written to express “hate”, and I don’t “hate” my daddy. My daddy has gotten me out of some things in life I made myself a fool for. All the other bullshit he’s about however, I won’t miss him for when he’s gone. I would be foolish to spend my life with hate over someone who don’t know how to act better. I however do not waste minutes of my life dwelling on “admiration” of this man… because clearly that would be a waste. This was written to bring light to important issues from my life experience that brought huge amounts of unhappiness, and mental illness I didn’t need to be put through from somebody who never made himself out to be anything more than an uneducated, loud mouth, bigoted, homophobic, pipe welder and coon hunter. Of course there’s nothing wrong with pipe welders, or coon hunters if you can’t find anything better to waste your time with… unless you’re a bigot.

There’s just shit you don’t do to some people at any age, and expect them to forget it, hold admiration for it, or never speak about it… especially if they were caused mental disorder in life over it, and your ways caused them to despise your presence. Since this was a part of my life, and since it effected my life in negative ways, I have the right to my own opinions… for anyone who may feel I shouldn’t have wrote this.

Going forward, if I see the guy, great… whatever. If I don’t… even better. I will enjoy my peace and quiet in the meantime. I made my peace with his passing a long time ago.

Today also, I realized that I still have control. I can legally have my name changed again, take his name right back off of my birth certificate, out of my life, and become somebody else all over again with a new name, if I decide his homophobic bigot, and angry habits, along with my mother’s ridiculous religious and homophic beliefs, don’t fit well into my “lifestyle”…


I can’t thank you enough for browsing my website, and I hope you are enjoying my content. Your support for my work, and my small business is very much appreciated. Please check out my store links below.

DUDECAPZ BEANIE STORE – Do you like handmade crochet and knit beanies and other items? I make one size fits all beanies that are great for adults as well as kids and teenagers. NOTE: I only ship items from my store to addresses within the 48 continental United States. –

MUDPIX OUTDOORS – Do you like to view nature photography and collect photo ebooks? My outdoor photography taken at West Point Lake, and Lake Harding in Alabama and Georgia. –


Below you can find some random content that I am featuring in my blog for a limited time period. This content is updated frequently.

TRAINS – Since Tuesday, November 2nd, 2021, I have been on a train kick. It started on Twitter when I decided to follow the #train, #trainspotting, and #railroad hashtags while working on my website, in hopes of seeing some cool train photography. This isn’t the first time I’ve been on a train kick, as I have enjoyed watching train ride videos on YouTube prior, as well as I love taking train photos when I get the chance, but this writing is my first real record of it. Below I would like to highlight some accounts on Twitter, and other links related to Trains that I think are interesting and that I recommend checking out.

William A. Hamlin – @SE_Railfan84 – Truck driver, PRO FREEDOM & train photographer. Be sure to check out his teespring store link. He’s got some nice train themed t-shirts, and hoodies.

See also:

Create with Spring –

Enter your email address below to receive an email each time I post something new to my blog.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s