Comment from 12/12/11

          Now I said I was going to start posting the comments made to me, and then my responses to them. So far there is only one that really had any “questions” to answer, or needed more than a short response…so here we go J

From: leirigh

“Kat, thank you for starting this blog. I've found your posts have helped me rethink a few things in my life. I have a question... Is it your father you love, or the idea of a 'father' that you love? I heard that from a therapist a while back. It sounds hard, but it made me think my definition of family. 'Family' should mean something special, but sometimes we give that special term to people when it's not earned or deserved just because there is a biological connection. No matter how much I wanted the idea of that family member in my life, the real-life person wasn't it. In fact that family member was cruel and dangerous. In your case, Kat, maybe your birthfather didn't/doesn't behave like a father. You could say, he tore up his 'father card' when he did any number of the things you've mentioned. Why pursue that relationship? Why spend the most precious thing you have (time) on this? What happens if you say "I'm done with this relationship"? Will you get grief from other family members? Will you get grief from the man you think is your 'father'? Will you feel lost without this conflict?... I don't have the answers for myself, but I'm hoping you'll figure it out and post them in a few months :) Thanks again”

Then my response:

“Thank you for posting, and thank you even more for reading! I'm going to try and answer your questions the best I can :) As for whether or not I love my father...I can honestly say that I love him. Now, the idea of him is what tortures me I think. Thinking about the times he should have been there for me, and wanting him around when I'm upset...that all just makes me sad. But I spent 14 years of my life with him in my life...so I do honestly care what happens to him. My mom told me once, "The opposite of love isn't hate...it's indifference." So every time I question my love for him...I ask myself if I still care what happens to him. And I do, what hurts him...hurts me. Therefore I know I still love him, whether or not I want to (or he deserves it). As to why I pursue a relationship...I honestly don't anymore. I want to...but I don't. I got a restraining order a few months ago to keep myself from doing just that. Granted it was more to keep him away from me...but it also gave me a built in support system to keep myself from contacting him. Whether I like it or not...time will always be spent thinking about my father. Even after he's gone, I know memories of him are going to haunt me. But that's because he makes up a large part of who I am. The way I think...the way I act...the things I enjoy or don't enjoy...a lot of that came from him. Hell, every time I look in the mirror I see his blue eyes staring back at me. I have said that I'm done with the relationship, and I've meant it. But as I said...it will never change the fact that I am invested in what happens to him. Even if I'm done with the relationship...I still care. That man is half of me, and I have younger siblings that are going to have to walk this road too. Maybe not as involved...because they haven't seen him since they were infants...but they too will struggle with not having him around. Maybe he doesn't deserve my love...honestly I know he doesn't. But I'm a Christian girl...and people make mistakes. People do stupid things...but it doesn't make them unworthy of love. The majority of my family has supported me through this struggle. Some aren't happy that I have cut off ties, and try to manipulate me back into the line of fire. But I won't do it. The others see that I'm safer out of it...and will support me no matter my decision. Without them I wouldn't be where I am now...learning to deal with all of this in a healthy way. Your last question really made me think...and is the main reason I didn't respond to your comment right away (it got sent to my phone). It made me think about how I could ever truly be rid of the conflict. And honestly...the only way that could even be possible, will be after my father has died. Now to clarify, I do NOT wish that on him. Just to be blunt...that's the only time I can see myself not having to struggle with maintaining a relationship or not. However when I imagine that day...I also see a lot of pain. Very deep seated pain. The whole point of this blog is my own recovery. And a big part of that, is focusing on this conflict we're talking about. The conflict isn't just whether or not to have a relationship with my father...it's a bigger conflict within myself. Well...multiple conflicts kind of. It's me struggling with learning how to live while dealing with the chaos he radiates. I don't know if this helped you at all. I hope it did, and I hope I can continue to help. :) Thanks again...your comment got me thinking!”

Now I’ve really got to get my copying and pasting under control so it’s easier to move everything over. Not to mention breaking that up a little bit. Kind of hard to read through. It’ll get there though. Keep the comments/emails coming! J

Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me

(For the record, anyone who got the reference from the title...we should probably be friends).

Ok call me crazy. But I’m thinking I might take this blog in a slightly different direction. Keep going with what I’ve got, but also add a little bit to it. I had a comment the other day on one of the posts that really got me thinking. And as I tried to respond to it, I realized I could easily write an entire post in response to it. SO. I want to put this out there. I mentioned before that anyone could email me, or comment here…and I’d respond. But I want to put it out there for anyone reading/following the blog that I will answer all questions as quickly as possible. Whether it be about specifics, or just general stuff…I’m happy to answer it all.

                I’m going to go searching here in a minute for my response to the person who left the comment, so I can repost the comment, and my response as another post. (That was a weird sentence). Anyways…I’m rambling again about something simple. Basics…I’ll gladly take questions or thoughts. Via email, or via comments on previous posts. I welcome them…and will respond to them in their own post as soon as possible.

                Email: littlemissmadness91@yahoo.com
                Twitter: ConfessionsofRS

Kat...don't overreact...

So I’m going to have to go into a little background real quick before I explain everything I want to in this post. As I mentioned in a recent post…my husband and I have recently separated, and unfortunately are headed to divorce. Well in the last two weeks I’ve gotten a lot of messages, emails, and phone calls from old friends sending their thoughts. One message was from a guy I met back in college and really hit it off with. And when I hit it off, please let me be clear…we were good friends…end of story. Anyways, I was only away at school for 6 months or so, before I came home and married my husband. So needless to say, this guy and I kind of lost touch.

                Well a couple of months ago we reconnected via Facebook, with just a few quick messages of “Hey how have you been?” “Good you?” “Good.” And again…the end. However shortly after making the news of my divorce public…I got a message from this guy. He was incredibly respectful and just sounded concerned. Told me he enjoyed the friendship he had, we should keep in touch…was really just being a good friend. Since that message, we’ve talked almost every day about all sorts of random stuff. It was nice to have him as a friend again…2 states away or not.

                The other night we were both at parties and exchanged a few texts back and forth. I asked what he was doing and his response made my jaw hit the floor. “Not gonna lie I’m in NYC…did some coke too.” Now at first I thought it HAD to be a joke…so I asked if he was being serious and got “Yes, very much so”…which I again thought was a joke. Or maybe I just hoped it was. After continuing the conversation it became clear to me that there was no joking about it…he’d really been doing coke at some stupid party. I texted him and told him to just text me the next day…I didn’t want anything to do with the drug scene.

                The following text messages told me so much. First I got the “I don’t get into that stuff regularly but it’s a party lol” then, “I’m ok it’s not a huge deal.” So I flat out told him…it’s a big deal to me considering my father’s in jail from drugs like that and prescriptions…and that I REALLY didn’t want anything to do with it. So then I get, “It’s not a problem I live in the city it’s not a big deal,” and all I responded with was “Not to you.” But then I got my absolute FAVORITE line of the night… “Kat, don’t overreact.” Oh honey…if only you knew.

                Now I don’t even know which part of all this to tear into first. First of all I have to say…I NEVER saw this kid doing hard drugs like that. It never would have occurred to me. He doesn’t seem that type, he seems responsible…and I’d actually told a few friends how refreshing it was to talk to someone that had drive. Someone that had a future…and knew how they wanted to make their future come about. It made me feel like I could seriously do whatever I wanted to…and that I could be successful. And then to find out that he’s one of “those”…not exactly something I need in my life…and certainly not as a friend.

                Second, the crap that poured out of his phone and into mine made me want to scream. “Not a huge deal” “but it’s a party” “not a problem” “in the city it’s not a big deal”. I mean seriously? Not a big deal? It’s coke! If we COMPLETELY ignore the whole slowly killing your body thing…there’s still the whole completely and entirely illegal thing. That show COPS where they arrest people? Not a joke, and not staged. Now if you choose to spend your life doing things that could land you in the back of a cop car…that’s your choice. But doing the “told ya so” will be my choice when it happens.

Next, I wonder if he has ANY idea what coke actually does to you. I do! Just a quick glimpse from the things I picked up at my good ol’ dad’s house as a kid…

Coke: also known as blow, stones, snow, or rocks. Most batches are laced with insecticides, pet tranquilizers, and pet de-worming medications. In the case of a bad high it can produce anything from mild itching to hallucinations, and major paranoia attacks. Hell, even a “good” high can easily bring an irregular heartbeat, tremors, mood swings, nausea, severe muscle weakness or spasm, and insomnia. Just to name a few. And then let’s visit the whole idea of oh I don’t know…um DEATH?!

And just for the hell of it, I looked up some facts, statistics, etc. Adam Goldstein (DJ AM)…died of accidental cocaine overdose in 2009, Brittany Murphy also in 2009, and Mikey Welsh earlier this year. As a matter of fact, in 2009…almost 425,000 visits to Emergency Rooms across the country were for cocaine specifically. A whopping 21.2% of all visits involved illicit drugs.

                So back to what I was saying before. I mean what more do you need? Not a big deal…sure, if possible death isn’t a big deal to you. For instance, jumping off the roof of my house could be fun…it’d be a “thrill.” Chances are I’d land safely and walk away with minor injuries if any. However, there’s also a chance that I could seriously hurt myself…and an even slighter chance that I could die. Given this information do you see me jumping off the roof…? No. Common. Freaking. Sense.

                On another note…I guess this could just be a personal preference…but I really don’t see ingesting insecticides and tranquilizers as being “fun.” I don’t care how exciting it feels at the time…that’s just disgusting. And I wouldn’t want to run risks of going completely bat crazy because there was something else funky thrown into that batch. No thanks!

                And now I have to tackle that whole final comment he made. The famous “Don’t overreact”. HA! If it wasn’t sad…it’d be really freakin’ funny. What more can I even say? When those words popped up on my phone I swear instead I read: “I’m trying to act like slowly poisoning my body with strange chemicals that could possible kill me, all while risking my entire future knowing I could get caught…is fun! And please, peer pressure, it’s not a big deal! PS Yay drugs!” Ok so maybe that translation was a little obnoxious. But I’m stressed…and I’m in that kind of mood. You get my point.

Anyways. I let myself cool off for a day, because I really did enjoy this person’s friendship. I sent him a message with my blog information, and the newspaper article from when my dad got arrested. Asked him to take a look when he had a chance…because I really want to make sure my point gets across. Maybe he already looked, maybe he will some time down the line, and maybe he never will. All I can really hope is he knocks off his stupid behavior before it DOES get out of control…and before it ruins his life. Afterall…aren’t “it’s not a big deal” just the famous last words in this crazy drug world we live in?

Hate mail is a small price to pay

Well…I got more “hate mail” today. I messaged someone who seemed to have a problem with me via Facebook and got my head bit off. I was told how immature and basically annoying I am for posting what I think. At first it kind of bothered me…but then the more I thought about it, it got kind of funny. I have met this person ONCE…and was nothing but sweet at the time. Yet here she was freaking out about how I make stupid decisions and live my life in the public eye. Now…to a point I can’t disagree. Yes, I do post too much, and I say things I probably shouldn’t. But I’m kind of okay with it. And I’ll explain more as to why later.

                Now I’ve started the other blog about my divorce, which I wasn’t sure about at first. It’s not there to dog on my husband, or say anything bad about him. It’s more about the process that’s about to take place. It seems like it will be a lot like the battle I’m fighting with myself about my dad. But at the same time there are some big differences, and I know I’m going to have to figure out how to tackle them.

                Anyways, in her message, she specifically told me to get used to the hate mail, and that I had a lot of people against me. At first reading that really hurt…I didn’t think I deserved that kind of comment. But then it occurred to me…here this “grown woman” who’s sitting here lecturing me about being mature…was going off on me for quite frankly no reason. And suddenly…it seemed kind of funny.

                People REALLY like to pull the age card with me and I can’t tell you how much it makes me want to scream. Yes, I understand…I am 20. I am young. Thank you for the update. However if you’re going to lecture me on my age…could you please be at least 30? Being 3-5 years older really doesn’t give you the “leg up” you seem to think it does. I’m young? Well guess what…I hate to break it to ya…but you are too!

                Maybe I’m paranoid…but I swear I feel like everyone in this world is filled with manipulation and just…bullshit. That’s probably not a healthy way to think…but it seems like the majority of people are “creeps and dummies” as my mother likes to put it. This girl made another comment about “people close to me” telling her “the facts” and such. And when I read it, the usual panic rose to my throat. There’s only one person she knows close to me…and it’s the person I consider to be my absolute best friend. My heart hurt thinking that this person would betray me like that. And then the sensible Kat popped back in to say hi. It hit me…my father used to say stuff like that ALL THE TIME. I even posted about it recently. How he had people “watching me” and telling him things. And it hit me that I can’t tell you how many times I have heard about these “people” yet I still have no idea who these magical people are? Hm…manipulation…table of one please. Tonight…I won’t be joining you J

                But…that’s enough of the depressing crap. As far as I’m concerned…BRING ON THE HATE MAIL! I welcome it. Because if I’m pissing people off…it means I’m at least making an impression. If people are sending me mail, it means it got them thinking. And I’m okay with that. Yes, I am absolutely living my life in the public eye with this blog, and with things I say on my Facebook. But as I said…it is completely 100% worth it. And I will tell you why.

                Facebook is just a means of promoting this blog. Plus it’s my easy outlet for whatever I want to say. I don’t hold back, because honestly there are times where I want people to know how I’m feeling. I’m not going to hide how upset I am…because it’d be a big fat lie. I’m not going to plaster a fake smile to try and fool people. If I’m upset, I’m upset…if I’m mad, so be it…and if I’m happy, I’m going to share that with people. There’s a beautiful thing about Facebook…and it’s called the block button. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to read it!

                But now back to why I write this blog. I was afraid to start this blog for multiple reasons. I knew that there would be a lot of drama in it…after all look at the subject matter. I was really afraid people would start to read it just to know more about my personal life. I was afraid to be judged for it. I’ve had some moments I’m not proud of, and I wasn’t so sure about broadcasting them…let alone all of my family’s dirty laundry. I wasn’t sure anyone would actually benefit from it…but that’s what I was really hoping for.

                The other night, being the insomniac that I am…I was up looking for someone to chat with. I saw an old old friend from high school pop up, so I decided to harass him. We talked for a little bit catching up, when he mentioned that he was fresh out of rehab for pain killers. My heart broke reading it. My father was about his age when he started…and I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else becoming a lifelong victim of those damn pills. So I went out on a limb, at the risk of accomplishing nothing (minus looking like a jackass)…and sent him two pictures. One of my father’s mugshot years ago…and one from his most recent arrest. Now, in the first picture my dad looks kind of happy (I know weird), and relatively healthy (to the untrained eye). In the second…he looks horrid. He looks sick, angry, beat up, and scary. I told my friend how this is how much just a few years of that crap could change you. I sent him the news stories from when my dad got arrested…and then I sent him a link to my blog. Asked him to read it when he had a chance. We talked for awhile that night, and I told him that whatever he needed, I would do to help him stay off of those pills.

                He said he’d work on it…and I hoped that he meant it…but I was weary…and just overall concerned. I didn’t hear from him for a few days, and never really saw him online. I got a quick unrelated message from him, but that was it. Then I got a message Sunday night that honestly made all of this crap worth it. He told me that he hadn’t touched a pill since we’d talked, and that talking to him, showing him the blog, and showing him what had happened to my dad…got his attention. That it made him want to knock it off, and get off the pills completely. When I told him that he made my week (which was a gross understatement)…he told me I’d made his life. And basically that he credited all of this to why he wasn’t high.

                Now first of all, I’m amazed, flattered, and unbelievably touched that he feels that way. All I wanted this blog to do was at least touch 1 person. And it has. I feel like it has filled its purpose…and now all I can do is hope it continues. Second, I hope he reads this…because there’s something I want to add to that. All I can do is put the idea of recovery in someone’s head. Whether it be an addict or a loved one…I can only get the ball rolling. It’s completely up to that person to continue it…and fight the good fight. I know it’s not easy. It’s pure hell sometimes…but it’s SO worth it in the end. And it’s up to them to realize that…and make it happen. I’m always here to help as much as I can…but I can’t do it for anyone.

                I mean in all reality…I’m still working on it myself. Who am I to say anything…? ;)

Hope faith and love...trust patience and loyalty

The holidays are always hard when someone you love is gone. I guess I’m kind of dealing with a double whammy this year. It’s hard on me knowing that other people are in pain…even when I’m mad at them. I guess that’s one of my bigger problems. I am easily manipulated into being upset over someone else’s actions. Even when they don’t directly affect me. It upsets me knowing that their life isn’t what they want it to be. Now my head continuously tells me how I can’t do anything about someone else, and how I can’t fix everything. But for some reason I’m programmed to think that I can. I don’t know if that’s just from the way I grew up, or if it’s just in my blood somehow.

                I’ve really been wanting to send my dad a letter for Christmas. Just to let him know that regardless of our relationship, I am thinking about him. I want to tell him that I love him, and that I wish things were different. Because as much as I’m hurting…I can only imagine how alone he’s feeling. It has to be a scary feeling. I don’t want him to feel abandoned…but I also can’t help that his actions have led him to this point.

                I’ve been praying for him, and I guess that’s really all I can do. I keep him in my thoughts all the time, and I hope that one day he will find peace. Maybe he won’t…and there’s nothing I can do to control that…but I can hope.

                Hope, faith, and love. You see that saying a lot. I have the words trust, patience, and loyalty in a tattoo on my shoulder. And honestly I feel like coping with life ties into all 6 of those. You have to have hope in every situation. It might not feel like things could possibly get better…but holding onto hope keeps you sane in those dark times. Faith could mean anything. Faith in God, faith in a higher power…faith in love…whatever. Just means you believe in something. Love is obvious. Having love for life, love for others…but most of all, for yourself. If you can’t love yourself…you can’t truly love someone else. Trust is just like love. You have to trust in everything. Trust yourself, your friends, and whoever else you choose to have in your life. Trust, and be trustworthy. Patience will get you through any situation. Giving things time, even when you want to rush through them…will keep you going, and will make you stronger in the end. And finally loyalty. Be the one people go to for help. Always be there for the people who will be there for you. We may think we can conquer anything…but it’s a lot easier to act like a superhero…when you know there’s a support system behind you.

So the recap: the things needed for personal recovery and growth (in my opinion).

Patience for the grieving process,
loyalty to those who are there for me,
hope for the future,
faith in the bigger picture,
trust in myself to make the right decisions,
and most importantly…
love for myself regardless of the outcome.

It'd be a selfish thing to try and hold her back

I can honestly say this is turning out to be the hardest year of my entire life. Between my father going to jail, two miscarriages, and losing my job twice…I didn’t think I could take much more. There’s been a lot of pain coming my way this year…and I thought I’d hit rock bottom months ago. Until this weekend happened. I won’t go into specifics because I’m not going to talk badly about someone that means a lot to me. But this weekend…I decided that it was time for me to get a divorce.

                I will always love my husband. There is no doubt in my mind about that. What happens to him with always matter to me, and I want the best for him. He has been a large part of my life for over 4 years. And while that doesn’t sound like a long time…in all reality, it was a large part of my teen years, and all of my adult life thus far. He has taught me so much about myself and about life. The fact is unfortunately, that we can’t make something work.

                I’m sorry that this has to happen. But I’m sure about my decision. My husband is a good person. He’s loving, he’s smart, and he’s usually kind. He’s everything that I thought I could ever want in a husband…and he’ll make a girl very lucky someday. But there are differences between the two of us that I’ve tried to fix…and can’t. I’ve fought for our marriage for a long long time, and I’ve lost myself and my dreams in the process. I can’t do it anymore…I need a second chance at life.

                I don’t regret my marriage for one second. I regret that it’s ending like this, and it hurts me. But I don’t regret taking that jump to be with him. I went against my family and friends, and made a huge decision. It seemed crazy at the time, but never in a million years did I think it would end like this. But even if I’d known how it would end…I still would have done it. As I mentioned earlier…I learned so much about myself in the last few years. I learned a lot about life…and I learned that it is possible to fully trust someone after everything my father did to me. I didn’t think it would be…but it is.

                There are a lot of sources of pain in this life. I’m no stranger to that fact. There’s the pain you feel when someone you love makes bad choices and you can’t do anything to help them. There’s the pain that destroys you when you lose a child. And then there’s the pain of having to walk away from someone that you love quite possibly, more than yourself.

                I can’t decide which pain is worse. Losing someone to bad choices is upsetting, but there’s at least the realization that there’s nothing you can do about it. Same with the miscarriages. It hurt, like all hell. It tore my heart out and left me feeling empty for months. But I knew there was nothing I could do to prevent it. This is different. I am the one asking for the divorce, and I know that at any moment I have the option of turning it all around. I could go back, and live unhappily for the rest of my life. I could compromise my dreams and my future, to make everything “right” again. It’s taking everything I have to not do that. To not give in to the pain again. To not take the “easy” way out.

                 I’ve lost myself lately. I’ve put my husband before myself in every sense…and I’ve lost myself. I’ve let myself forget my goals, and my dreams. I’ve been so damn focused on making everyone else happy, that I’ve forgotten how to make me happy. I don’t want that for the rest of my life. I was so sure when we got married that everything would be ok. I was convinced that I could fix any problem we’d ever face. I got so caught up in painting the perfect picture for everyone we knew because I wanted everything to work out. I somehow got myself thinking that if we faked it long enough…it might happen. We got our own little house, hoped for a child…I thought that if I tried hard enough to make things look good…they would be good. And in ways they were. We were in love…I don’t doubt that. But sometimes love isn’t enough…and sometimes things just can’t be fixed.

                I am terrified to be alone. I think that’s part of the reason I’m so worked up about all of this going on. I think it’s a big part of the reason I held on for so long. I’ve always been so worried that someone else would leave me…that it never really occurred to me that I could leave if I felt I needed to. I get in bed at night and I hurt. My heart aches like it never has before…and my head spins. I wonder what the hell I’m doing, and I highly consider taking it all back. Going back to my house, and trying to just permanently forget the fact that I’m not happy. But I have to push myself out of this. It’s ok to be alone…and it’s ok to love and let go.

                I took a chance. And it didn’t turn out like I’d hoped and planned. It doesn’t mean I failed. It means life got in the way. It means I learned something and will come out stronger than I was before it all. The important thing is that I jumped. I trusted my gut, and I will never have to ask “what if”. I’ve tried my hardest to work through the problems…and I haven’t been able to. But in the future I know I can look back on it and know I did my best with what I had.

Stick to it

I have a feeling today’s post is going to really light some people’s fires. Especially if the person I’m talking about has friends reading this blog. But I have to get it off my chest…and I feel like this is the only way to get it out there. And I want to say this before anything else…I am not defending my father in any way through this post. He is fully responsible for his actions and I’m fully aware of that.

                As anyone who’s been keeping up with this blog (or me in general) knows…my father was arrested for arson (among other things) back in January of this year. He had set fire to his girlfriend’s (ex girlfriend’s, I can’t keep track) house. Now of course, when it went to court…this girl made it all the court’s fault. There were endless articles in the newspapers in Florida about how she blamed the court for not protecting her. And every time I read another one of those articles…I wanted to scream.

                Let’s backtrack a little bit. I forget how I’d gotten her number…but in the summer of 2010 I’d gotten a hold of the woman’s number. I had heard stories of how he was treating her, and I was terrified history was going to repeat itself. I was just waiting for her to get pregnant, and then leave my father. And then I’d have yet another sibling out there in this world somewhere. There’d be another child without a decent father…and with a lifetime of problems to deal with. The idea broke my heart, as did her getting herself into a situation she didn’t fully understand. I mean as humans…how many times do we do the “if only I’d known then what I know now…” I wanted her to be able to avoid that realization years/months down the road.

                Anyways. One night I texted/called her (I’m sorry it’s been a year and a half…my specific details may be off). I told her who I was…and why I was contacting her. At the time I guess things hadn’t been going well for her and my father…so I told her everything. I didn’t want to scare her, but at the same time I did. I was hoping if she realized what he was capable of…she’d get herself out of the situation. We had a pretty long conversation and I thought she might actually understand. It seemed like she was ready to get herself out.

                Shortly after she was back with him. Shocker. Now again, specifics are escaping me at the moment…but I do know she filed a protection order with the court against him at one point. I was relieved…I knew it might not keep him away, but it would give her some kind of legal backup if he did come around. Shortly after filing…she dropped the order, and went back to him.

                Now, before anyone jumps down my throat about abusive relationships and feeling trapped…do me a favor and don’t. I get that this is a HIGHLY sensitive subject and I’m prepared to make people angry, but I’ve got a lot to say about it. I’ve been there, and I’ve done that. Keep in mind I was this man’s CHILD. I was in that SAME abusive relationship for 14 YEARS. Hell, in a way, I was in a verbally abusive one with him for years after that. If anything, that bond is stronger (even in an unhealthy way)…and I still GOT OUT. I broke that cycle, and walked away. That’s why I’m here writing about this stuff…I do have an idea of what I’m talking about. I didn’t study it…but I lived it.

                Now…some time passed and something else happened between them. I don’t really know what…I’d kind of given up. I’d occasionally text or call her to check up on her…but I had to kind of keep my distance. I didn’t want to get myself in a situation where he came after me because of what I was saying to her. After whatever happened…she filed another order. This time, the court denied it. Not because there wasn’t sufficient evidence (there was)…but because SHE hadn’t followed the order the previous time. Keep in mind…when you file a protection order…they warn you over and over that if you break it, or you drop it…your claims will no longer be taken seriously…and you’ll be on your own. So the court did what they would do to anyone…and they denied it. According to the newspapers, after that he continuously threatened her. By phone, by leaving notes at her house…none of which shocks me. It was after this that her house was set on fire.

                I had tried to help and it didn’t work. The courts had tried to help and it didn’t work. You can’t be helped if you’re not willing to help yourself. And she wasn’t. If anything, it seemed like she blamed everyone else for what had happened. Her family and friends actually blamed ME for awhile (but that’s another post for another day). Again...let me repeat to make it clear I am NOT blaming her for the fire or what happened. I am just a big believer in taking responsibility for your own life. And blaming other people for things that happen to you…isn’t going to get you anywhere.

                You might be wondering if I have a point other than to piss people off with this post. And I do. This blog is about recovery…and taking CONTROL of your own life and destiny. I could have easily blamed everything in my life on my father, and for a long time I did. Every time I did something wrong…I would find some way to relate it to him. And to be honest, my family doesn’t really help with that. Me getting married young, or wanting children was/is because “I feel a void where my father should be”. And that’s not the case. Now are certain things I do because of him? Absolutely. There is no question that the way I think sometimes is directly related to growing up around him or without him. However there’s a big BUT coming. I am still responsible for my actions. I might think one way…but the following decision is made by me, and only me. And just like me, my father’s girlfriend had choices. Walking back into an abusive relationship is only going to lead to things escalating…and this is a perfect example.

                So there are 3 main points here. One…if you honestly want to move on from something. Stop blaming other people. Hell, even if you’re not trying to move on…stop blaming people. My dad’s ex didn’t have legal protection because SHE made the choice to not take it seriously. NOT because the court didn’t want to help her. (And again do NOT take that as I’m blaming her for the fire, because that is absolutely not the case). I wasn’t harassed by my father because HE’S mean…it happened because I didn’t get help for myself faster. Two…don’t play the victim when you had something to do with it. If you get in a fight with someone, antagonize them, and then they punch you in the face…don’t blame them. You had a choice to engage…as did they. You both chose to do so. Therefore responsibility rests on you both. And three…if you are in a bad situation…get OUT. Don’t sit around and wait for it to get worse…because all the studies in the world point to it will. Don’t be left unprepared and oblivious. If your family and friends are telling you the situation makes them uncomfortable…chances are it’s for good reason. Trust those you should…and get away from those you shouldn’t.

The first boyfriend

This post was not what I had planned for today. But it’s something that really upset me, and I can’t decide if I’m being ridiculous for being upset about it or not. One of the good things that has come out of having my father as my father…is he gave me a very large family. I was an only child for the first 9 years of my life, and since then, he’s given me 2 half siblings (and in a way, a step sibling).

                Anyways, my little sister is now 11. She lives near my husband and I, and I’ve been lucky enough to have always been involved in her life. Since my husband and I got married, it’s been harder to see her. I feel like we’re always working, we always have things going on, and I feel swallowed by life. I’ve been unemployed for awhile, and even with that one thing out of the way…it’s felt like 5 things have taken it’s place. I’ve always believed in “if you want to see someone, you’ll make time to see them”. But here I am…contradicting myself.

                I haven’t heard from my little sister in awhile, and I texted her a few days ago, asking how her Thanksgiving was. As I was sitting here working on another post…I got a text from her. Her Thanksgiving was fine, phone has been off, and she has a boyfriend. It threw me off guard a little bit. I used to be the person she went to instantly to tell those things to. I remember the first time she asked me what sex was. Oh boy. Not that I had an answer for her…but she trusted me to bring those things up with me. If she liked a boy, she always told me. And here…she has a “boyfriend”…and I had no idea. Now I know…she’s 11, it’s not like it’s serious. But I had NO idea. Didn’t know she liked anyone, didn’t know she was even looking at boys like that. It got me seeing that I have next to no idea what’s going on with her right now. And I have to say…I feel like a terrible person.

                It’s not that I don’t love that little girl. I’d do absolutely anything for any of my siblings at any time. I’d give my life for all 3 of them if it would help them in some way. But lately…I’ve been distancing myself from them. My brothers are living close as well…and I haven’t seen them in months. I want to…but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m finally starting to question why…and I hate to say that it probably has something to do with my dad.

                I’m afraid of questions about him, I’m afraid of thinking about him. I’m afraid of any kind of connection with him…and that’s what they are. But just like me…it’s not their fault that they have the father they do. And if anything…I should be there more for them. I should be more constant in their lives to help them deal with all the things they’re going to face in the future when it comes to him.

                Things are so crazy right now…and all I want to do is crawl into bed for a few days to clear my head. But this is something I’m really struggling with. And for the first time in my life…I’m hesitant to act. I’m trying, and although it doesn’t show with the way I’ve been acting…those kids mean the world to me. Why is it when you try better yourself in certain aspects…it’s so easy to drop the ball in others?

PTSD

I talk a lot about my recovery and I give a lot of advice on how to make the transition into recovery a little easier. But I haven’t much talked about my specific struggles. I don’t mean the things I’ve been through…I’m talking more about the emotional struggles. The things that go on inside my head that no one could ever truly understand. Everyone has their unique mental battles, and everyone has to learn how to deal with their own.

                The main thing I want to address in this post is PTSD. PTSD is post traumatic stress disorder. Originally it was used to diagnose soldiers that were returning from war. It is categorized by flashbacks, nightmares, memory loss, being easily startled, a “numb” feeling, difficulty concentrating, and hypervigilance. Many times PTSD can lead to depression, anxiety attacks, even substance abuse in extreme cases. PTSD can be caused from many different things. Different types of abuse, war, an accident…any kind of traumatizing event. The event could also be a onetime occurrence, or something that was ongoing.

                In my case my PTSD was caused over a number of years of abuse…mental and physical. I was diagnosed in high school after finding a psychologist that dealt specifically with mental disorders such as PTSD. At the time I was a mess and I didn’t realize how far I’d fallen. I had taken the numb feeling on completely, but would have random outbursts of being really angry, to being really sad. My mood swings would catch me off guard, but I took it as part of the hormones involved in being a teenager. I had a very hard time concentrating on anything…school, work, friends. I was so stressed out with other things going on in my head…that I had a really hard time getting anything done to my full capacity.

                After going to the psychologist for awhile, I was diagnosed with depression as well. I was often exhausted, and was very easily overwhelmed. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that the flashbacks and anxiety attacks really started. I remember one night in particular that my mom and I were watching a talk show, and they showed a parent hitting a child. While it was just a reenactment…it threw me into my first real attack. I remember being frozen in place, and it was like something was forcing me to think about events in the past. My head hurt, my chest became incredibly heavy, and it took my breath away. The best comparison I can think of is when you walk into a very cold wind, and can’t seem to take a full breath. I felt my heart beat heavily against my chest, and it felt like it was overworking itself. I got dizzy, and my hands shook uncontrollably.  It was one of the scariest moments of my life, because I realized I had no control over the flashbacks and anxiety attacks.

                Those attacks continued for a long time, and on occasion they still happen. Not nearly as often as they did at the time, thank goodness. I eventually started to find my personal “triggers”. Basically anything that would throw me into an attack. Males speaking to me loudly or in an aggressive tone was a big one. Sometimes it would be just joking around, and someone would say something in the wrong tone, or with the wrong wording, and I’d feel my chest tighten. Other times it was someone physically touching me the wrong way. A hand on the wrong part of my arm, a hug from behind…anything that caught me slightly off guard. I was increasingly jumpy…and being startled would lead to an attack.

 For a long time it seemed like everything was a trigger…and it was hard to say how hard it would hit. Some attacks were limited, and would just lead to my heart beating a little too fast. Those were easy to talk myself out of. But other times they would be just like that first attack. A few times it got to the point that someone else had to calm me down. I wouldn’t be able to catch my breath, or slow my heart down. I’d get dizzy and lightheaded…which would force me into a deeper panic.

I was put on an anti-depressant. I took the anti-depressant for a few months, and my energy level got better. I was able to focus a little better, and my anxiety started to go down a little bit. I worked really hard with my psychologist on desensitization. She would have me run through specific experiences in my childhood involving my father. As I’d start to fall into a flashback and I’d start to panic, she’d talk me out of it. Eventually the severity of the panic went down…and I was able to have more control over the flashbacks. I never had full control, but it got better.

It wasn’t until working for awhile, that I realized I was forgetting things. There would things I would think of that had happened, or had read in police reports…that I couldn’t remember. I might remember the general event, or a random detail from that night…but I wouldn’t be able to remember specifics. I wouldn’t know what had happened…who had specifically been involved…or what the outcome had been. There were a few instances that I blocked out completely…that I still don’t remember fully today.

I was only on the pills for a few months. The idea of them started to bother me. I was taking a medication to alter my personality and my reactions. I understood that I was using them correctly and I “needed” them…but it seemed to alike to what my father did. He used substances to change himself. To change his feelings, and to mask reality. Wasn’t that what I was doing? Against the advice of my doctor and everyone else…I took myself off the pills.

(Now a quick disclaimer…anti-anxiety/antidepressants should only be used under the care and supervision of a licensed doctor. And should never be discontinued without doctor’s approval and help. This was my personal decision, and was against medical advice.)

                After going off the pills I had intense mood swings. The anxiety came back, but I was determined to fight it on my own. I still struggle with my PTSD and anxiety, and the symptoms pop up at random times. But that’s just part of my recovery. I get stronger every day, even though it doesn’t seem like it sometimes.

                I am just like my father in many ways. And this is one. I have a disease that I can’t control. I didn’t ask for it, I didn’t cause it…but it’s a part of me. We are alike in that aspect. He has a disease that he can’t control. He didn’t ask for it, he didn’t cause it, but it’s a part of him. But there is a huge difference between my father and I. It’s something I’ve tried to stress to him. I choose to fight. Despite how hard it’s been, despite the challenges I’ve had to face because of it…I don’t give up. I don’t let it rule my life and I never will. I just wish he was willing to take that same step. I wish he was strong enough to fight.

                So I’m back to what this blog is all about. It’s about learning from experiences, and never letting life take advantage of you. Everyone is strong enough to fight if they make the choice to. There are such things as miracles if you have hope. Any situation can be changed. Maybe not immediately…but with time, patience, and faith…anything can happen.

Always overthinking

                Like a lot of people, I watch certain shows every week. On one of my shows, there’s a drug addict who recently relapsed. Her friends had an intervention, and then after walking out to go home she was talking to her fiancé. They decided to get sober together, and as they went to throw out the drugs…they decided to do it “one last time”. When the girl woke up in the middle of the night, she found that her fiancé had died in the night.

                Now I know that it’s just a show, it’s all about drama. But it shook me. So many things about it bothered me.  Part of it hurt, and I felt horrible wondering how many people that may have happened to. How many people finally decided to stop, and gave in that one last time…just to have it come crashing down on them. I don’t necessarily mean by death…but that “last time” they were going to drink…their wife finally had enough. Their family members finally said they were done trying to help. Or maybe they got in the car and killed someone. Maybe they made another stupid decision and hurt someone in another way.

                It’s sad to me. Everything regarding addiction breaks my heart. In this show, the girl was so loved, and smart. But when she went back on drugs…she was angry, frantic, and she intentionally hurt the people she loved. The people that would do anything to help her. It just reminded me of my father. He is so smart and so loved. So many people would have dropped everything to help him. But now it’s too late. I wonder who would help if he asked for it now. He’s hurt so many people, intentionally, and unintentionally…people that love him.

                That really got me to thinking. I don’t know if I’d go. If he needed something, or needed me to help him…I don’t know if I’d go. That sounds horrible, and it hurts me to even say it. But I really don’t know if I’d do it. I walked away because I’d heard the “I’ll change” speech one too many times. I don’t think I’d believe that he really wanted the help, and I don’t think I’d go try to find out. I’m fed up, and to me that “last time” doesn’t exist. There will always be another time.

                Maybe that makes me a bad person. Maybe that makes me a pessimist. Maybe it means I’m going to hell. But I’m tired. I’m fed up, and I’m sick of falling for the lies. I want him to get better, and I want to help…but I’ve accepted that it won’t happen.

                It also makes me sad that one day he will be gone. Because of his drug usage, and because of his problems…one day he will be gone. And when that day comes, I probably won’t have any kind of relationship with him. It will crush me, and I am entirely too aware of that fact.

                I guess I need to stop watching TV. Then again…drug usage is everywhere…whether or not you see it. Can’t hide from it, can’t avoid it…you just have to face it. Like too many things in life. Oh well…more on all of this later…my mind is too jumbled tonight to try and put everything I’m thinking into words.

4 months, 2 weeks, 6 days

Back in January my father was arrested for setting fire to his ex girlfriend’s house down in Florida. At the time it broke my heart, seeing him go to jail. However it had happened before. He had been in jail for a short time, and then he always found a way out. Part of me figured that this time would be just like all those others. My brain couldn’t process the fact that he may be there for an extremely long time.

                It’s now November, and there have been countless pre-trials and hearings in the last 10 months. And still nothing has been decided. My father is still sitting in that cell, and we still don’t have closure. I’ve been waiting and waiting to find out how long he’s going to be stuck there. Even if they say it’s for the rest of his life…there will be a sense of relief. It’s not knowing anything that’s just tearing me apart. They say everyone has the right to a speedy trial…but honestly I think that’s all a load of crap. There’s nothing speedy about making everyone wait around for over a year just to start the trial.

                I check the court dockets down there religiously, just hoping for some kind of information. I can’t call down there to find out, and I’m trying to keep his family out of the middle…but I have to know. And two days ago, they finally posted the date for the start of his trial. March 27^th, 2012. It makes me sick to think about it.

                These things get stretched out all the time…look at any highly publicized court case. Great example…Michael Jackson died over 2 years ago…yet the trial surrounding his death is still going on. Matter of fact, the verdict is supposed to come out today. So I guess this all shouldn’t be shocking to me. It will be just over 14 months since my father was arrested by the time he goes to trial. And that’s saying that he actually goes on the day they’re claiming. With our luck, I’m sure it will be rescheduled.

                I feel like I can’t calm down until it’s all decided. I try so hard to better myself, and learn from the things that are happening. I’ve been trying to move on from it all and not let it get to me. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to, as hard as I try. I need to know…I need the closure that comes with the end of court. Not necessarily because I want to know how long he’ll be in jail (which of course is part of it). But also because I need someone to finally tell him no. I need to see that for once this judicial system isn’t completely screwed up…and will stand up to criminals. I need justice for once in my life. He didn’t burn my house down…but he’s hurt me and my loved ones more times than I can count. I want him to finally serve the time for it.

                And as I sit here I’m going all psychologist on myself. This sounds crazy to me, but I know it’s true. I need a judge to say that my father is guilty…because if he does…that will mean that this isn’t my fault. I know I didn’t put the gasoline in his hand, I know I didn’t start the fire…but part of me still blames myself for the situation. Crazy I know. But my father has spent a long time programming my brain to make all of his actions my fault. And I’m still working on not thinking like that.

                So I guess it’s only 4 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days…until I have a chance of regaining my sanity. Not that anyone’s counting.

The final steps 10, 11, 12

Step 10: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
                Well we’d done the inventory once. We understood our faults, and what exactly it was that we did wrong. We understood what reactions were inappropriate…yet sometimes we still fall back on those defects. While everything else seemed to calm down in our heads…until suddenly the addict did something that sent us right back to where we started. We found ourselves waiting up again, or checking all over the house for a secret stash of drugs. But the difference was this time we understood we were doing something wrong. We are always changing though, and have to keep up with a personal inventory to be sure we aren’t letting ourselves slip into our old ways.
                Every day, every hour even…we should be thinking about the things we’ve said and done…and if there’s something we should be doing better. Getting more in touch with our feelings, and being more open to change is the only way to continue on the path to our recovery.

Step 11: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
                Prayer and meditation had become our chance to be “alone”. It was our time to ignore everything going on around us, and focus on what we needed to do to succeed in our recovery. It was a time to focus on just us, and work on making ourselves better people. As we got more in tune with ourselves and whatever our higher power was, we learned a better way to live. We learned how to save ourselves from the frustration we’d become so accustomed to. We had come a long way, and keeping in touch with our inner selves, and whatever our higher power was, kept us from falling back into old habits. Routinely reconnecting kept US from relapsing.

Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
                We were once in a very scary place. We had no where left to turn and truly felt that we were alone in the world. We had once felt that no one could help, and had refused the help that other’s had tried to give us. And now look at us. Our lives certainly weren’t perfect, and we still had the same problems we’d had before we started. But we had changed. It was time to get out there and share our story. Our story of recovery…in hopes that someone else would want the same peace we now felt.

So I guess that’s what I’m doing here. I know there are people everywhere struggling with the same things I used to. Hell…the things I still struggle with. And while I might not get the attention of anyone…there’s a chance I might get someone’s. And if one person gains something from anything I say…I consider that a blessing. Living with addiction is scary and lonely…and no one should have to feel like that, no matter the circumstances. Sure there are some stories that I’m sure people will read purely for the “entertainment” value…but this is more about learning about what’s out there. There are so many ways to get help, and so many places to find support. But there’s also a lot to learn. This world is certainly not perfect, and there are some crazy things going on behind closed doors. Just wait…I’ve got lots to tell you about.

It's like music to my ears

My dad had a very specific in taste in music over the years. When I was little it drove me nuts, I wanted to listen to the NOW CD’s, and all of the new stuff. But he always had this other stuff on. James Taylor, Kenny Loggins, JoDee Messina, etc. Today, I find those same artists to be some of the most calming I’ve ever heard. Whenever I get upset, I curl up with some tea and a James Taylor CD. The longer I listen to him, the more I’m able to calm down.

                This isn’t as random as it seems I swear. Last night my husband and I were at a friend’s house, and we were all talking about music. I brought up Kenny Loggins and was surprised at how they knew who I was talking about. I got to listening to the songs that I haven’t really heard in years, and was surprised at the feelings they brought up.

                I had dreams about my dad last night. Really vivid dreams…and for once they weren’t nightmares. It was strange…but at the same time it was nice to not wake up panicking. As I write this I’m still listening to Loggins and I think I finally know why I have such a strong connection with this music. I’m sure in part it’s the fact that I grew up with both of my parents playing the same kinds of music…but now I know there’s more to it. Kenny Loggins sounds just like my dad. Add some piano to my dad’s guitar playing back in the day, and a voice that’s just slightly higher pitched. They have the same style…and the same calming effect.

                I miss my dad. I don’t miss the craziness and I certainly don’t miss the horrible things he used to do. But I miss him. I miss the way he smelled (minus when all you could smell was drugs), I miss how his guitar sounded down the hallway while I fell asleep, and I miss seeing his face. So many things remind me of him every day, and I’m doing my best to reprogram my brain. As I said the other day…I want the memories to be positive…and I want my dreams to be more like the ones I had last night.

Waterfalls and a house foundation

Yesterday my husband and I got little “family pictures” done. We went all over the place around where we live trying to find pretty places with lots of colors in the leaves. I found myself directing him to drive to spots that I always used to go to with my dad as a kid. It was strange…being back to these places that I associated with my father…yet my father is no longer involved in my life.

                I have so many memories from those places…and I have to say most of them are good. It was refreshing and nice to have thoughts of my father that weren’t filled with uncertainty and hurt. He showed me places that were hidden treasures right next to where we lived. Places that you would have no idea existed…but were extraordinarily beautiful. There was an overlook up this windy and twisted road…that was filled with the changing leaves. An old house foundation…where the house had burnt down…but the stairs and courtyard pond made of stone were still intact. A waterfall in someone’s backyard…that looked like something out of a travel magazine. And finally…a beach off the beaten path. It was a beach that he always used to pull his boat up to…that was hidden from the elements by a break wall.

                So many memories of hiking, swimming, boating, and being a kid were rushing through my head all day. Occasionally one that wasn’t so pleasant would pop into my head, but I was trying to push those out. I’m trying to see things from my father’s perspective these days. To this day he thinks my childhood was filled with butterflies and rainbows…when it was kind of anything but.

                Now I don’t want to brainwash myself into forgetting the bad…because the bad makes me who I am. But at the same time…I don’t want to dwell on that. I want to dwell on the good memories…the times when he was sober…(or even if he wasn’t) the times when he was calm…and just wanted to spend time with his daughter.

                It was calming in a way to go back to those places. I could remember silly things he did, and times he got me to push my limits. It was those places that I learned a lot about myself…and learned a lot about him too. Sober, my dad could have been such an amazing guy, and an amazing dad. It makes me sad to think about how lost he must have been to make the choices that he did.

                But this post is supposed to be positive. Those memories are things I cling to while trying to get further in my recovery. Focusing on the negative is only going to throw me deeper into an area I’ve already spent entirely too much of my life in.

I guess I’m kind of like that house I mentioned. It burnt down to the ground and a lot of people probably wrote it off. So much garbage and dirt everywhere…it couldn’t be worth much and could just be ignored. But after time, and after all the dust cleared…there were still a few things left that could be salvaged and turned into something beautiful. The courtyard with the stone encased pond…with lily pads and little frogs. The edges of the house made of beautiful pieces of stone and brick rising up behind bushes and hidden between the trees. And the random stairs tossed randomly through the area. Doesn’t look like much…but it could be turned into something absolutely beautiful. It might never be, because it’s been ignored with so much focus being put on the negatives. But if you looked at the bright side, and the beauty that’s left in it, it could be built into another beautiful home. After all, they do say ash is a good fertilizer. Must be God’s natural hint to us that wonderful things can come from total disaster.

So I’m going back to my foundation. Something that doesn’t look like much at the time…but could be turned into something beautiful if I put in enough hard work.

Made of glass

Today has been incredibly frustrating. I’m desperately trying to find a balance between people who treat me like I’m made of glass…and then people who pile too much on me at once. I don’t know which is worse, or which drives me crazier. I have a lot on my mind most of the time…that’s just how I am. When you live a life that’s involved in addiction (one way or another)…it’s easy to get overloaded. Your mind is so busy focusing on the craziness in your life, that simple everyday problems seem to be that much harder to deal with. Or situations that would normally seem difficult, are nearly impossible to work through.

                Like I said, there are two ways that people treat me. Some completely ignore the fact that I’m stressed and pile things on…even when I tell them I can’t handle it. You would think telling someone “I’m sorry but right now, I can’t deal with this” would get the point across. But somehow…some people don’t seem to get it. They think because you’ve dealt with a lot and you’re a “strong” person…you should just learn to cope better. Learn to “figure it out.” I’ve gotten to the point (especially today) where it doesn’t matter to me what these people “need” immediately. I need things too, and I can’t help them, until I’m personally ok.

                The other group…are the people who act like they have to walk on eggshells around me. I will be the first to admit that sometimes I snap. Sometimes I get a little too high strung and I lose it for a second. I get overwhelmed easily…but I mean can you really blame me? There’s a lot going on in this head of mine. But it doesn’t mean that I can’t be talked to. It doesn’t mean that I have to be “protected.” This whole post came from something I found out on Facebook today. A good friend announced her pregnancy…something that she’s been wanting for a long time, and has known about for months. I felt so hurt, that it wasn’t something she would tell me before posting it. Yet when I asked her about it…she just said she “didn’t want to upset me.”

                I have been through a lot, and I can handle a lot. But I want to be treated like any other friend would be. I’m not going to break if I hear something that hurts me. I may have to do a little damage repair after the fact…but it’s not going to kill me. I need people to stop acting crazy around me…I can’t recover if everyone tries to cover me in bubble wrap. I’ll be fine if I’m given the chance to be.

The letter I never sent

Since my father has been in jail (about 10 months now), I have written a million letters, and then thrown them out. He used to send me 2-3 letters at a time, at least once or twice a week. We haven’t had any contact in a few months (for a reason I will cover at a later time). But there was one letter I wrote before we broke all contact that I found today. It was mainly in response to the letters he had been sending me, and the phone calls he’d been making. I’m not sure why I kept it, but I did…and as I reread it, I could hear myself saying every word. I think it spells out a lot about the feelings that fly back in your face constantly when dealing with an addict.

***8-1-11
                You keep asking me to write, and I really don’t understand why. I don’t know what you want or expect me to say, and I have a feeling that what I’m going to say isn’t going to make you very happy.
                Every letter you’ve sent me has had some negative comment about me, or been targeted at making me feel sorry for you. Don’t get me wrong, it hurts me very much to know you are in jail. I think about it all the time. But you did this, and I have to remember that. This isn’t anyone’s fault but your own, and while I understand that’s harsh…it’s the truth.
                Your letters make no sense and they jump all over the place. I can barely keep up. I’m going to attempt to go through each one to make sure I say all that I need to.
                One of the first letters you sent me was about your trying to commit suicide. You told me all about how you’d had it planned and how you wanted my voice to be the last thing you heard. But how dare you put that on me? You decided to take an easy way out of a situation you created, but wanted me to live with knowing I was the last person to speak to my father before he offed himself? You wanted me to question if there was something I could have said to change it? Here I was thinking that parents were supposed to be selfless when it came to their children, but that’s about the most selfish thing I’ve ever heard.
                You have a lot of serious problems, and you’re in total denial. One minute none of this is your fault, and the next it’s all your fault, and you want attention and pity. My heart hurts for you and I’m haunted daily by the fact that I can’t do anything to help you. But for my own sanity, I’ve got to stay away.
                You say that I said something about your grandchildren you’ll “never see or touch”. And yes I know that I’ve said that at some point, and I stand by that decision. I will never subject my children to this craziness and instability. I’m sure that hurts you, but I don’t say it to hurt you. I say it because I know how it affected me, and I will never let my children be put in that situation. Not that it really matters quite frankly.
                You told me that if you didn’t make it, to love on and to not hurt or lash out at anyone. I think we need to get something straight. If you consider what I’ve said to you “lashing out” then so be it. But I’ve been angry for a good reason. You attacked and hurt my family, not to mention me. You put me in horrible situations, and you put me in danger. Again…some parenting. I will always love on because there is a wonderful man in my life who has taught me what love should be. He has taken care of me, been there for me, and picked me up every time I’ve fallen. That is love, not whatever version you’ve created in your mind. I have an amazingly strong mother who has been there for me, and has dealt with me treating her badly when I was angry…when in reality I was mad at you. She has been there every step of the way, letting me deal with things how I needed to deal with them…and having endless patience for the entire situation.
                I’ve done a lot of changing in the last two years, and you missed almost all of it. I graduated college and then graduated high school…all at 18. Then I got engaged to my high school sweetheart after going through a 5 month separation while he was at boot camp. I helped start a program for high schoolers so they could become more involved in the community. I started coaching mock trial and I go to meetings almost every week for FA. I got my name changed the day I turned 18 because I was sick of police seeing my name and assuming I was some kind of criminal. You left a legacy that I wasn’t proud to be associated with.

    (Now the next section requires a little back story. He had heard that I had “lots of piercings and tattoos” as he put it, and told me that I “must be insane to mutilate my body”. So this was me responding  to those “concerns.”) 

    I got my ears pierced 5 million times just because. I was 18 and I could. I got them pierced once (twice) just to show Ari (daughter you never bothered to parent) that it didn’t hurt. She wanted hers done so I went first to show her there was nothing to be afraid of. I got my nose pierced for my 17^th birthday just for fun. Who cares? I still carry myself well and it will heal when I want it to. I’m young, and you only live once. I have 5 tattoos, and since you’re so concerned with them, I’ll gladly explain. My first is of 4 hearts, very small and hidden. Each heart has initials in it. One for each of my younger siblings, and once for my god daughter. My second is a yellow rose for my great grandmother, who is the biggest inspiration to me. The third is on my shoulder and it says “Trust patience loyalty,” and it’s for my husband. The words to live by in any marriage, let alone as a military wife. It’s my daily reminder to keep my marriage strong at all costs. I have a purple butterfly on my foot, which is also for my god daughter, to remind me to always make smart choices so she has good footsteps to follow in. And finally I have one that I got for you. It’s cherry blossoms that go all the way down my ribcage, with the Serenity Prayer symbols in the middle of them. Serenity, courage, wisdom. That tattoo tells me with every breath I take, I can slowly deal with the situations involving you. Cherry blossoms symbolize new beginnings, and every time I take a breath, I’m working my way to a new beginning.
                Anyways, according to you, I’m ruining my life, and I’m falling apart. But on the contrary, I’ve got it almost all together. I’m sure as hell not perfect, but I do my best to achieve the “perfect” that works for my home. I have an absolutely amazing husband who treats me better than I ever thought I could be treated. I have a job that I love and that could more than support our family if I needed it to. I work 50 hours a week, I’m trying to go back to school, I still coach, I’m a wife, and a big sister. The only thing I can’t do is have my own children, but I know I’ll be a damn good mother the moment I’m given the chance. Still think I’m a horrible person? Probably…but whatever. I don’t need your approval, I never have. You will continue to think whatever you want, and thankfully…I’m learning not to care.
                By the way, I just reread another letter. You compared being mentally ill to being born with no legs. And I have to say, it’s one of the most ridiculous things I may have ever heard. You hurting people mentally and physically is why people are angry…NOT because you have problems. You could have gotten help over the years. You could have tried to stop using drugs. You CHOSE not to. And that’s one of the major differences between you and I. Despite the fact that I have problems too, PTSD…depression…etc. I work through it. I take care of my responsibilities, I work on bettering myself, and I get help. I have never turned to drugs, and I never will.
                I have been worried about you, but I’m also not going to be your parent. You’re supposed to be the parent in this situation, and it’s about time you learn to act like it. You say you needed me and I wasn’t there. But how about I’ve needed you…for over 20 years now. I needed someone who wasn’t completely insane to see my prom, my graduation (from college and high school). I needed my dad to walk me down the aisle and threaten my fiancé as to how he’d better always take care of me. I could have used my dad to dance with at my reception. But more than anything…when I lost my baby boys in January, I could have used my dad there to tell me it wasn’t my fault…and that he was still proud of me. What I DIDN’T need…was 2 days after getting out of the hospital to see my father’s mugshot all over the news and internet. 

    So the next time you “need” me…why don’t you try and remember who the “adult” is supposed to be here.
                I want to be clear…I don’t hate you, and I’m only mad sometimes. I’m trying as hard as I can to forgive you, but it’s very difficult. Part of me can’t get all of the horrible things you’ve done out of my head, and part of me physically hurts because you’re stuck in jail. It hurts deeper than I ever thought it would  to think of you in there. And that’s a burden I never imagined having to carry.
                You say you’re sorry the pressure falls on me…but you’re not. The pressure has always been on me…since I was a kid. On the plus side, it’s made me an incredibly strong and determined person. I can (and do) take care of everyone in my life. I can’t help you. I don’t have any magical solutions to your problems, and I’m not going to kill myself over trying to find one. I have too many other things going on in my life that are much healthier to deal with.
                Your letter said you need someone to live for, so live for yourself. You can’t be there for anyone else until you’re somewhat stable. And right now, you’re nowhere near stable. As much as I miss listening to you play your guitar, the new lyrics you sent me haunt my thoughts. You need a lot of help…and if you feel like you have to live for someone else…get help for me.
                You can’t be my dad…it’s far too late for that. Too many missed memories, and too many nights I spent crying over you. And honestly, I don’t think it’s healthy for you to be there for the other kids. They don’t know you, and they have plenty of other people to care for them. You coming around unstable would just confuse them. It’s not fair and if you truly care, you won’t do that to them. I don’t need a father anymore, I’ve learned to take care of myself. I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you wanted.
                There is a song by Kelly Clarkson called “Because of You.” You should look it up. I used to be afraid of everything, but I’m finally getting past that. Not everyone is out to hurt me (or you), and this world is a very beautiful place if you let it be.
                I’m sorry that you think I’m such a horrible person for not wanting a relationship with you. But you have to realize that you have a very different version of my childhood in your head than what the reality was. I’m not bitter anymore, it’s just the truth. I have to protect myself and I have to be able to start to move on from it all.
                You don’t need to worry about me. My (our) past has taught me a lot. And though it’s made my life really difficult…I don’t think I’d change it. I wouldn’t have all that I do today without my past experiences, and I wouldn’t be able to help so many people.
                I will probably never convince you that I’m doing well. I’m not nearly as good as manipulating people as you are. It’d really be a shame if people took you seriously, and believed the things you say about me. But I’m not going to let it bother me anymore. You will think whatever you want to think, as will everyone else.
                I love you very much despite everything you’ve done, and nothing will ever change that. No matter how angry I am, I will always care and will always be affected by the decisions you make. But you will not run my life anymore. I have planned my life around your actions for a very long time, but I will not put myself through it anymore. I have a life to live now, and other people that are there every day that need my attention.
                I’m not sure what hurts me more, the fact that you don’t seem to have any idea all the wonderful things I’ve done, or that you think I’m a horrible person who is intentionally trying to hurt you. I’m not trying to hurt anyone, that’s just not in my nature. I’m trying to protect people. Myself especially. Haven’t I been through enough over the years?
                I’m sorry I can’t fix you, I’m sorry I can’t be what you need. I wish I could. I’d love to make this all go away, but I can’t. I don’t want to hear excuses anymore, and I don’t want to hear you badmouth other people. The decisions you’ve made put you where you are. And although I don’t want you to be there, I know you need to be. You’ve got a lot of problems that make you dangerous to yourself and others.
                You wrote me suicide letters, and talked about the other kids. You act like you care so much, but you need to think about something. If you kill yourself…what are you telling them? What message are you trying to send?
                You have a lot to think about and consider. You could attempt to get off on what you did in court, you could commit suicide and take the easy way out. And all that your children will know when they grow up is that you were a coward. They will think it’s ok to take the easy way out of problems. Or…you could stick this out. Admit to what you’ve done, and spend your time in jail in therapy or rehab, work at making things better. What an amazing message to send. “Hey kids, everyone screws up, and I did big time…but you can always make the best of things and attempt to turn things around.” So all I can really ask now…is which person are you? Show me who my dad is…instead of spinning me lies. Because as of right now…I have no idea who you are. ***

The letter was all over place, and I see that now more than I did when I was writing it. Some of it doesn’t make sense when you haven’t read the letters he sent first. But the overall idea…and almost frantic sound of my writing shows the state of mind I was in. I still have days like that, where my emotions and thoughts are all over the place…but they are becoming fewer and farther between. I’m slowly working my way to recovery. But just like an addict…I will never be “fully recovered.” This is a lifestyle change you have to work every day for the rest of your life…and you’re always still in recovery.