Just another memory

I remember one night when I was about 9…waking up in the middle of the night at my dad’s house. I walked across the hall into his room and he wasn’t there…and I remember being so confused and scared. I went downstairs, and found him in the kitchen…with papers and a pen scattered over the table, with his guitar in his lap. I remember being afraid for him to notice me, afraid I was going to get yelled at for being out of bed. But this wasn’t one of those nights. He saw that I’d come down, and instead of getting angry, he gestured for me to come over, and he sat me in the chair next to him. He told me he’d written a new song, and he started to play. After singing it to me once, he handed me the paper and told me to sing with him. I have no idea how long we sat at that table…singing the new song, and all of the older ones that he’d written. There were silly ones like “Down on the Bayou” and “Ant Highway” that he knew made me laugh…and then there were other serious songs about love and life.

                I don’t know why that memory has been in my head lately. Part of me thinks it might be me trying to make peace with myself over everything that has happened. I don’t want to hate him. I don’t want to remember the nights of hell, where I would sit awake in bed all night terrified of him coming home. I want to remember the nights where he was calm…and he loved his daughter. He could have been such a phenomenal dad. I know he loved his kids…I don’t doubt that. But he was so screwed up in the head, that he didn’t know how to handle that. He didn’t know how to care for someone more than himself…and the drugs certainly didn’t help to clarify that. He didn’t understand how the way he acted affected me…and he probably never will.

                It all makes me sad. While the memory is good to have…and I’ll always hold onto it…it still hurts. I wish with everything in me that something could have stuck in his brain. That something could have shown him how he was passing up an amazing opportunity. I loved him, looked up to him in some strange way…and all he taught me was how you can’t trust anyone.

                Here I am, 12 years later…and I know I’ll never have that moment back. The reality is sinking in that not only will I never have that moment again…but I will never have that person again. He’s long long gone…and it’s starting to feel like I’m grieving a death. Granted that day will be an entirely new bridge to cross…but I think acceptance is finally hitting.

                I’m not angry with my father…although it’d be easier if I was. I’m not completely depressed over it either though. I’m finally getting to the point where I can see those few good times despite the hell he put me through. There were moments where my dad was in there somewhere. Moments where the real him would come out and be the dad I wanted so badly. Just because he’s gone now…and just because he spent more time hurting me than being that dad…doesn’t mean I can’t remember those few moments. Cling to them even. While my father was not the man he should have been…my dad was an amazing man. My father is still around…but my dad died years ago.

Dad,
Every time I hear a guitar strum…I will think of you. Every time I sing…I will think of you. Every time I look in the mirror and see my bright blue eyes…I will think of you. And my heart will be filled with a little sorrow but also a little joy. I miss you and I always will…and I am thankful for the chance to see the side of you that I loved so much. I wish I could have been what you needed. Be safe.

Out of whack

I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I’m usually a very calm person, especially in the face of extreme stress. I usually get quiet, I pull away, and I handle things in my own time. But something inside of me has snapped recently. Monday was a horrible day…and the anger that came pouring out of me really took me by surprise. Things had been going wrong all day, and I turned into this confrontational person that I’ve never seen before. I was so overwhelmed and put off by the situations in my life…and I snapped.

                I was moving things that night, and I had to drive around a lot. I don’t remember driving. I remember seeing white, and shaking for hours. I’m sure that’s in no way healthy…but I feel like it’s been a long time coming. So much has happened recently, and I’ve been so calm about it all. Even the things that would set any normal person off. I’ve been coping, and taking care of responsibilities. I finally just had enough, and I lost it.

                I’m back to that strange calm of mine. That calm where it feels like things are just swirling out of control around me, and I’m sitting in the middle of it all in some kind of daze. Since when can I not function? Since when do I fall apart? It doesn’t happen…hasn’t as long as I can remember. Have I had moments that things overwhelmed me…absolutely. But it’s never been this extended.

                I will pull it together. I have no doubt about that. I just wish it would happen faster. It’s frustrating having to be patient when dealing with something like this. This is something that I feel should be simple…it’s all in my head. I should be able to fix it in a little bit of time. But that’s not at all the case. It’s all twisted up and chaos up in that brain of mine…I imagine it to look something like one of those pawn shops they show on TV, or the inside of my closet. Once you go in…you’re probably not coming out.

                I’m rambling. Maybe I’m finally starting to get my inspiration back (if that’s what you want to call it). Or maybe I’m just losing all the sanity I did have left. But I do know it’s time to start writing again. I’ve got so much to say, and so much to work through. Whether or not it’ll help anyone else work through their issues remains to be seen…but I can hope it does. I’m putting a lot of very personal details out there for anyone to read, and that’s a little scary. But at the same time, I want it to be clear that I’m not perfect. All those people who keep telling me how well I’m holding it together…I want them to know that I’m really not. I’d love to be superwoman…but the truth is I’m not! I’m just a little girl from Ohio with a crazy parent. A girl that struggles with his influence on her life…and a girl who’s every action reflects that influence.

                It’ll all be okay. I’ll survive, I’ll manage, hell I might even surpass some expectations. But it won’t be easy. And right now…it kinda sucks.

Struggling

I’ve been fighting with myself a lot lately. I’ve fallen out of writing…and I can’t really say why. Granted it was a lot easier when I wasn’t working full time and doing all of the other things I’ve been doing lately. But I feel like there’s more to it than just being busy. I’ve kind of lost my voice…and I’ve really been struggling. I look at the situation I’m currently in, and I see beautiful people who are surrounding me with support. But then I look beneath the surface and I can see all the turmoil that my father has caused in my family. And it’s really getting to me.

                My sister’s mom and I were talking the other night about the situation and how it was affecting my little sister. And it hurt me to know how hard this is on her. I’m thankful she doesn’t have it worse than she does, and I’m even more thankful that she’s such a smart girl and isn’t falling for all that I fell for.

                She knows now…knows where he is. And that breaks my heart. She’s not old enough to deal with that kind of burden, hell…I’m not old enough for it. I’ve spent a long time keeping that information from her, because I don’t want to see her hurt in any way. I know how hard it is for me to deal with on a daily basis…and she’s still so young.

                Her mom told me about the letters he had been sending to her, and how she didn’t want to talk to him. And as much as this next part shouldn’t have bothered me, it did. He was blaming me for her refusing to talk to him. I know he’s crazy and that he blames everyone else for his problems…but I am so SICK of being the one who is blamed. Between all of the people blaming me for what he’s gotten himself into…I’m ready to scream. His ex blames me for not warning her…when that’s all I did for months. Her family blames me for not putting him behind bars before now…which they have no idea how hard I tried. I was just a kid. And on top of it, he blames me for everything that happened that night. Says that he snapped because I wasn’t there and refused to be in his life. That my birthday sent him over the edge.

                I know it’s not true. I swear I do. But there’s this sick part of my brain that hears all that and just sucks it up like one of those damn magic sponges. It sits in the back of my head and I start to randomly doubt myself at the worst times. I feel horrible for what happened, and in all reality, I had nothing to do with it. But it still haunts me.

                I am so proud of my little sister. More than I can even begin to say. She is so smart and strong…and she’s far beyond her years. She shouldn’t have to be, but she is, and she never ceases to amaze me. I didn’t want this to be something she’d have to deal with…but I guess deep down I knew it was inevitable. I just hope she continues to keep up this amazing strength, and is able to get through this all as unscathed as possible. I really hope that she doesn’t end up as mentally screwed up as I did.

                Maybe there’s just too much in my face right now, but I don’t feel like me. Maybe it’s just all a part of the healing process. I really don’t know…I’m new at all of it. All I do know is I’m trying. I’m working ridiculously hard at pulling myself together, and getting my life back on track. I’m not perfect, and I’m no stranger to that fact. I mess up, I fall apart, and then I find a way to fix it all. I’m in this on my own…and it’s a fight I’ve got to win by myself.