Father’s Day…one of the days that I dread the most during
the year. This year I wanted it to be different…and I didn’t want to spend the
day feeling sorry for myself. After all, this year has been a year of new
beginnings and trying to move on from the things that have happened in my life.
Making positive changes and such. Saturday I spent the day with family at my
cousin’s softball games, and then I spent the night with good friends
celebrating my other half’s birthday. I was on a positivity kick. Then Sunday
morning kicked in. I’m not sure if I was over tired, over stressed, or what
exactly the issue was. But I was a crab ass. I went to more softball games in
the morning, and then planned to spend the rest of the afternoon holed up in my
room, doing laundry and packing for vacation.
I got
home around 11:30, and decided to lie down for a minute. My head was pounding
and I was tired as heck. All of a sudden I woke up…at 5 in the evening. I woke
up with a start because of the dream I had…and I felt like I was in a total
fog. I was upset, irritated, and in even a worse mood than I had started the
day in. Splendid. I had had a dream that I went to visit my father in jail…and
it threw me off. Usually the dreams I have like that are horrible because they
always end badly. They end with him attacking me, or they slip into a flashback
of something that really did happen years ago. This dream was different…and
left me wishing I’d had one of the bad dreams.
The
dream was nice. My mind went and created some alternate reality where when I
went to visit my father, he was nothing but sweet and kind. He spent our visit
telling me how proud he was of the woman I’d turned into, and how sorry he was
for all of the bad times. He seemed to really see all that he had done…and
seemed to honestly feel bad about it. I woke up missing him horribly…and
wanting nothing more than to drive to Florida to see him. Thoughts flew through
my head, maybe he could change…maybe he did see all the wrong he’d done…and
maybe he was truly sorry. Of course reality set in, as it usually does…and
smacked me in the face. My father will never change…because he doesn’t want to.
I want that dad…that tells me I’m a good person, and is there to support me no
matter what. I want the dad that people celebrate on Father’s Day.
Unfortunately that’s never going to happen, and it’s yet another reality that I
have to learn to accept.
Sometimes
I wonder if my dad did the best he could. It’s hard for me to figure out if he
was trying…but just doing a terrible job. He’s so mentally ill that it’s very
possible…he did all that he could for his children. It’s very possible that he
just wasn’t capable of loving like a parent should. And that makes me sad. I don’t
hate my father. I hate the things that he’s done, and I hate that he’s hurt so
many people that mean so much to me. I hate that he’s hurt me the way he has.
But I don’t hate him. I feel bad for him. It must be a very lonely life to not
be able to love the way a person should.
While I
feel bad for him…it also makes me incredibly thankful. I’m thankful for the
family that I do have, and all of the amazing father figures that I have in my
life. Mostly I’m referring to my mom’s brothers and brother in law. My uncles
are amazing men, that (even unintentionally) have gotten me through a lot. They’ve
shown me what a real father should be, and have helped me create high standards
for the person that I will one day have children with. I live with my aunt and
uncle currently, and have at least a weekly check in with my uncle. He watches
me make mistakes ALL the time, and never judges because of it. He gives advice,
but doesn’t push. And I’m so thankful to have that in my life. I don’t talk to
my other uncles all the time, but I know they’re there. They create such an
amazing example for their own children, and it makes me happy to see what an
amazing family I come from.
Most of
all though, I’m thankful for my mother. Father’s Day sucks…don’t get me wrong.
But at the same time, I see it as a day to honor my mom. She was a mother and a
father…even when she was going through hell herself. Sometimes I get caught up
in thinking about what I could have easily become with a father that acted like
mine did. And she didn’t let that happen. Even when I made stupid decisions and
took the wrong path, she pulled me back into line. Am I perfect? Absolutely
not. I’m in the middle of trying to recover from decisions I’ve made that threw
me off track. But she didn’t let me become a statistic. I’m not just another “drug
addict’s kid”. I’m a fighter, and I’m a lover.
So
Happy Father’s Day mom…even without my dad around…I’ve got everything I’ll ever
need in a parent. These days are slowly getting easier to deal with…because I
have you around. I don’t see you as much as I wish I could…but I hope you
always know how thankful I am that you never gave up on me.
I’ll
post more soon I’m sure. But this has just been on my mind the past few days.
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