I'm scared...
Ich werde gesorgt und erschrocken sehr.
My father is now in the hospital recovering from hip replacement surgery. Well, he is trying to recover. This has been a very stressful weekend for me. His kidney's threatened to shut down once so far and he is still battling a fever. So far no infection, so I guess it's just his body doing it's thing. A part of my scared and worried yet another part of me is detatched and indifferent.
This is hard for me to think about. I feel like my relationship with my dad is still new and to be facing losing him is pretty damned hard to deal with. I'm 36. I've been getting to know my dad for about 10 years now. I had him wrapped and tangled up in my little fingers right up until I turned 10. That was when his much coveted son was born. In a span of a month I went from being daddy's little tomgirl that he took everywhere with pride to being the rejected and dejected child who was suddenly never good enough.
It's no secret that my Dad didn't know how to love his children; he didn't learn how to until my sister and I both left home. I ran away from my father by joining the Navy (the only person that could wrench me out from under his thumb was Uncle Sam and he did so effortlessly). I remember telling my dad that I requested to be stationed in the UK to get away from him. I remember spending 15 months in Iceland without him crossing my mind at all. I remember the day that I walked into the recruiting station and tested to join the Marines; it was the day after he (my dad) told me that I wasn't an adult until he told me I was one. I was 20. I remember crying until I thought my heart would break when I found out that I'd been tricked into coming to the Continental United States and that I wouldn't be returning to Hawaii to attend the University of Hawaii. Why? Because the scholarship money that I busted my butt to earn and all of the arrangements that had been set up for my independent stay in Hawaii meant nothing to my dad. He wanted me where he could see me.
I remember him refusing to fork out the $500 parental portion of the financing needed for my admittance to UNC Chapel Hill because he wanted me to school in the same Virginia town that we had moved to... therefore ensuring that I would be home every night for dinner. I remember cleaning out the hall linen closet when I was 16 and discovering that my Dad neither honored nor cherished my mother. Can you imagine a 16 year old discovering pictures of nude women tucked in a photo album? Can you imagine what would go through her head when one of those pinup girls materialized right before her eyes while she was taking out the trash at work? Can you fathom what it felt like to have this stunningly beautiful (and equally annoying) woman tell me how my mom couldn't make my dad happy and that he was going to leave her (because she was overweight) and that me and my siblings would come and live with her? Can you imagine your father telling you that you will never amount to anything and that you'll be pregnant before you were 17 years old? Do you blame me for running away?
It took 6 years after I left home for me to want to talk to my dad. It took the start of my married life and the birth of his then only grandchild to get my dad to open his eyes and see all of the damage that he'd inflicted on someone who only wanted his love. I'm still working on forgiving him for all of the pain that he has caused and for all of the destructive behaviors that he has encouraged. He's trying to make up for all of the pain and hurt in his own way, but it is ultimately up to me to be able to forgive. I'm not there yet. Now I feel like I need to be there now. But do I?
My mom is still sitting by his side, nursing her pain with a salve of her faith. GOD is the only thing that helped her through those times. But she didn't walk away from it unscathed, she has lots of scar tissue. She was a loving mother who was afraid to love her kids. She rarely said that she loved us, though I know that she did. She was sometimes very harsh and so very hard to love; kind of like snuggling with a porcupine; but when you got through her defenses... well those were the times I remember. My mom sees herself in me. I see my mom in myself and I don't like what I see. I have such a hard time opening up and allowing myself to be vulnerable. I do for myself and I don't like to lean on people. I still haven't told Shayne that my dad is in the hospital.
It's just that bad. My mother held us kids at a distance as if she couldn't bear to give her heart and all to another fallible human being. I am afraid to admit that my heart breaks when I think of how much my kids mean to me. To utter their value could bring about circumstances that would rob me of the gifts I've been given. Instead, I watch them sleep and I kiss their sleepy heads. Sometimes I hug them a little too tight and sometimes I just break down and cry because I am so afraid of anything happening to them. I would be utterly destroyed. I don't want to live like this though. I want to love my children with reckless abandon, not fearful secrecy. I don't want to live in fear of losing what I love, not if it means that one day they will sit questioning whether I loved them. All of this can be traced back to the man laying in a hospital bed 500 miles away from me.
I know that I don't need to somehow get through all of this and heal before he departs this earth. I know that I can continue to heal once he is gone. I guess that I just want him to see and to know what his choices have meant to the people who love him. I guess I just want him to see that I was able to free myself form the shelf that he sat his family on and that I did things the right way. I don't think it'll matter much...not to him... but it will mean a hell of a lot to me.
I'm so blessed that Shayne is in love with his children. He may have twisted priorities, but I know that when it counts his heart is in the right place (and when it's not, I know exactly which button to push to get it there). I often wonder if things would've been different had my mom not had me (I am the product of a relationship that my mom had with another man while my dad (her then boyfriend) gallivanted around the Army world, whoring without a care for the girl he left behind until he came back and found that she'd moved on). I think that things would've been better if my dad had been granted a son first.
Honestly? I don't know. Maybe. It doesn't matter now. What was, was. What is, is. What will be, will be. Right now I'm just a little scared of what I will learn about myself if my dad dies.
My father is now in the hospital recovering from hip replacement surgery. Well, he is trying to recover. This has been a very stressful weekend for me. His kidney's threatened to shut down once so far and he is still battling a fever. So far no infection, so I guess it's just his body doing it's thing. A part of my scared and worried yet another part of me is detatched and indifferent.
This is hard for me to think about. I feel like my relationship with my dad is still new and to be facing losing him is pretty damned hard to deal with. I'm 36. I've been getting to know my dad for about 10 years now. I had him wrapped and tangled up in my little fingers right up until I turned 10. That was when his much coveted son was born. In a span of a month I went from being daddy's little tomgirl that he took everywhere with pride to being the rejected and dejected child who was suddenly never good enough.
It's no secret that my Dad didn't know how to love his children; he didn't learn how to until my sister and I both left home. I ran away from my father by joining the Navy (the only person that could wrench me out from under his thumb was Uncle Sam and he did so effortlessly). I remember telling my dad that I requested to be stationed in the UK to get away from him. I remember spending 15 months in Iceland without him crossing my mind at all. I remember the day that I walked into the recruiting station and tested to join the Marines; it was the day after he (my dad) told me that I wasn't an adult until he told me I was one. I was 20. I remember crying until I thought my heart would break when I found out that I'd been tricked into coming to the Continental United States and that I wouldn't be returning to Hawaii to attend the University of Hawaii. Why? Because the scholarship money that I busted my butt to earn and all of the arrangements that had been set up for my independent stay in Hawaii meant nothing to my dad. He wanted me where he could see me.
I remember him refusing to fork out the $500 parental portion of the financing needed for my admittance to UNC Chapel Hill because he wanted me to school in the same Virginia town that we had moved to... therefore ensuring that I would be home every night for dinner. I remember cleaning out the hall linen closet when I was 16 and discovering that my Dad neither honored nor cherished my mother. Can you imagine a 16 year old discovering pictures of nude women tucked in a photo album? Can you imagine what would go through her head when one of those pinup girls materialized right before her eyes while she was taking out the trash at work? Can you fathom what it felt like to have this stunningly beautiful (and equally annoying) woman tell me how my mom couldn't make my dad happy and that he was going to leave her (because she was overweight) and that me and my siblings would come and live with her? Can you imagine your father telling you that you will never amount to anything and that you'll be pregnant before you were 17 years old? Do you blame me for running away?
It took 6 years after I left home for me to want to talk to my dad. It took the start of my married life and the birth of his then only grandchild to get my dad to open his eyes and see all of the damage that he'd inflicted on someone who only wanted his love. I'm still working on forgiving him for all of the pain that he has caused and for all of the destructive behaviors that he has encouraged. He's trying to make up for all of the pain and hurt in his own way, but it is ultimately up to me to be able to forgive. I'm not there yet. Now I feel like I need to be there now. But do I?
My mom is still sitting by his side, nursing her pain with a salve of her faith. GOD is the only thing that helped her through those times. But she didn't walk away from it unscathed, she has lots of scar tissue. She was a loving mother who was afraid to love her kids. She rarely said that she loved us, though I know that she did. She was sometimes very harsh and so very hard to love; kind of like snuggling with a porcupine; but when you got through her defenses... well those were the times I remember. My mom sees herself in me. I see my mom in myself and I don't like what I see. I have such a hard time opening up and allowing myself to be vulnerable. I do for myself and I don't like to lean on people. I still haven't told Shayne that my dad is in the hospital.
It's just that bad. My mother held us kids at a distance as if she couldn't bear to give her heart and all to another fallible human being. I am afraid to admit that my heart breaks when I think of how much my kids mean to me. To utter their value could bring about circumstances that would rob me of the gifts I've been given. Instead, I watch them sleep and I kiss their sleepy heads. Sometimes I hug them a little too tight and sometimes I just break down and cry because I am so afraid of anything happening to them. I would be utterly destroyed. I don't want to live like this though. I want to love my children with reckless abandon, not fearful secrecy. I don't want to live in fear of losing what I love, not if it means that one day they will sit questioning whether I loved them. All of this can be traced back to the man laying in a hospital bed 500 miles away from me.
I know that I don't need to somehow get through all of this and heal before he departs this earth. I know that I can continue to heal once he is gone. I guess that I just want him to see and to know what his choices have meant to the people who love him. I guess I just want him to see that I was able to free myself form the shelf that he sat his family on and that I did things the right way. I don't think it'll matter much...not to him... but it will mean a hell of a lot to me.
I'm so blessed that Shayne is in love with his children. He may have twisted priorities, but I know that when it counts his heart is in the right place (and when it's not, I know exactly which button to push to get it there). I often wonder if things would've been different had my mom not had me (I am the product of a relationship that my mom had with another man while my dad (her then boyfriend) gallivanted around the Army world, whoring without a care for the girl he left behind until he came back and found that she'd moved on). I think that things would've been better if my dad had been granted a son first.
Honestly? I don't know. Maybe. It doesn't matter now. What was, was. What is, is. What will be, will be. Right now I'm just a little scared of what I will learn about myself if my dad dies.
posted by Essentially Jae' at Tuesday, August 08, 2006
5 Comments:
(((hugs))) I don't know what to say. So just know that I'm here for ya.
Babes...there is nothing any of us can say. This is one thing you have to decide for yourself if you are ready to forgive and heal.
But know that I am here for you regardless.
I can feel your pain and I wish I was there with you to just give you a hug and let you cry, scream, curse, whatever you feel like.
Love ya so much - lemme know if you want me to give you a call
Smoochies
I've not got the words to comfort and heal, but I've got huge long arms to give you a hug.
(((((((((((((Jae)))))))))))))))))
Jae, keep writing, you will find what you want through that vent.
Huge hugs and cyber love
Sallyxxxxxxxxxx
Jae your eloquency is a testiment to the fact that you can cope with this. Only you can choose the path to follow, but know that you have a loyal group who would wish nothing other than to fold you in our arms and let you get everything out of your system.
Whatever little we can do we are here {{{{{{{hugs}}}}}} and wishes floating your way through cyber space.
Hugs hun.....love ya lots.
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