My goodness gracious, I haven't blogged in for-ev-er. I think I just get sucked in to crap like Frontierville on Facebook but I have also been taking a more active role in my local Moms group, trying to make it to more playdates and meetups. This, combined with work, have just left me a bit on the tired/lazyside at the end of the day. As a result, forming a blog post, a thought out blog post, well it just hasn't been a priority.
Also, I have been working my way through some issues lately. Ever since my sister passed away in March, things have been harder. Losing her was quite the catalyst for some other things to happen in my life, the biggest one being whether or not I should pursue a relationship with my Dad.
Ah, Dad. A little background on that subject. My parents divorced when I was 4 mostly due to the complications that my Dad's alcoholism brought to the marriage. My Mom doesn't talk about it much as I think she just didn't want to influence the relationship I would have with my Dad. She has said a few things that let me know how controlling he was and how family basically wasn't a priority in his life. On the weekends I would see him, he mostly took me to visit my Grandparents. I remember helping my Grandpa in the garden and him letting me mow the grass on the riding lawn mower. I remember eating lima beans for the first time at their house, and I liked them! The best part was they had this old house on their property, fully furnished, that they would rent from time to time. It had a huge wraparound screened in porch with a well out back. That well always had the coldest water. But those memories aren't so much with my Dad as they are with my Grandparents.
As I grew older, the visits became less frequent. My Grandparents eventually passed away and the times I spent with my Dad weren't so memorable. They were filled with evenings at the "club" which was basically the campground and him drinking and staggering back to the camper. He also liked to talk trash about my Mom. One thing I can credit my Mom with is never saying anything derogatory about my father. She was very careful about that, thinking I would eventually form my own opinion of him as I grew older.
I always wanted more from that relationship, I always felt more like he tolerated me than loved me. Sure, cards with checks arrived every Christmas and birthday. In the grand scheme of things, he could have been much worse but he could also have been much better.
So, in March, when I saw him at my sister's funeral, well it was weird. He called me the night before and I was expecting him but ever since I told him I was marrying a black man and then he bailed on showing up to my wedding, well that was the last straw. My life was going one way and he wasn't going to be part of that. So at the funeral home, when he was looking at pictures of my son, of my husband, of my FAMILY, well I didn't like it. Not one bit. I became protective of them. I don't need his blessing to lead my life. He has never given it to me before, he has never really cared before, why would he start now? Why would I start wanting him to care now?
Because he's my Dad. That's why.
It took me exactly eight therapy sessions to figure that one out.
I ended up in therapy because I wasn't sure what I wanted out of a relationship with my father. I wasn't sure if I even wanted any sort of relationship with my father. He showed somewhat of an interest, could he be softening up in his old age? Even so, would I want to expose my family to that? Then, you know, since it was a mere 4 days after my sister died at the age of 42, my mind went a little crazy. What if something happened to him? What if he died tomorrow? Would I be ok with my relationship (or lack of) with him? How would I feel, what sort of regrets would I have?
That's a dangerous place to be. The "What If" barrel. It's motivating for all the wrong reasons.
So I dug myself out of that barrel and moved on. I still have some things on my mind, but for the most part, I seem to be at peace with where I am now.
And thus this blog post comes to an abrupt end. But really, things are ok. I promise.
Reading Challenge - Book Eight
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