I know there are decent, loving, supportive fathers out there in the world.  There must be.  I've had friends who have said that they loved their fathers and that they don't know what they would have done without them.  Good for them!!!

A year and a half ago my world fractured and shattered into the rubble of depression and anxiety and suicidal ideation/planning, and more.  Since then I have been trying to fight my way back to whatever was there before and whoever I was before.  As I work to get better, stuff comes up…a lot of stuff comes up…stuff I thought I had reconciled long ago!  Therapy is a blessed curse that opens doors that I have bolted shut.  I don't like the waves of memory, the flashbacks, none of it. Because it hurts all over again!  Father's Day! Might as well be called black Sunday as far as Im concerned! Father was not a father.  He was rotten.  That's the only word for it: Rotten.  Oh, he was great in public; Funny, charming, friendly…whadda guy!  At home he was all forms of rotten. Im an older lady now and I am still hurt and shamed by the disreputable actions of my Father.  I haven't seen or spoken to him since my son was six months old; that's 25 years!!!  Dang!! That rotten guy is still taking up space in my head!!!  Hm!!!  He's not worth the anguish, yet….it's with me.

Guess part of what keeps me on the planet is the thought that I don't want to give him the satisfaction of me checking out because of him.  Geez! Sounds sick even to me, but its the truth.  So, ……….I write a blog at almost midnight on Fathers Day to say out loud that my Father was a rotten man. And, that I have hated his part of the blood that runs in my veins all my life.  And…….I can't do that anymore and stay alive.  I can't keep hating me because of him.  I'm not him.  I'm not his image.  I'm separate.  I'm finding ………me.

 

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