First off, I want to say that I am posting this because it is running through my head, and I am afraid if I don't put it in writing, I will forget some of the good things...and since I don't have a personal journal, I am putting it here.
Second, I do not want anyone to get a misconception about how I feel about my dad. I love my dad with all my heart, and am sooooo thankful for him helping me out when I really needed him, especially letting Sunrise and I live with them while I go back to school. But there are some things that really hurt me that I just need to get out.
When I was a young girl, probably until I was 10 or 11...most of my memories of my father were very good. Looking back now, it seemed like I was very important to him, and I was his everything. A few years ago, while talking to two of my aunts, I found out that that was the case. They told me that I could do nothing wrong in my dad's eyes. For the most part, looking back now...they are/were right.
When I was very young, some of my earliest memories were of how my dad would carry me into the house after I fell asleep in the car. I remember how I would fake being asleep just so he would carry me. I loved being held by my dad, it made me feel so safe, and so secure. It was so kind of him, to let me sleep...and though the one specific time I remember, I had to be only around 4 years old...but I remember it well. I remember around that same time, how I would wake up in the middle of the night and see monsters, and run to my parents bed and beg to sleep with them, and they would let me(I think they did...I just remember that the fear stopped as soon as I got to their bed).
When I was 5 we moved to a new house(it is what I called a shoebox now, because it was VERY tiny). Instead of my parents taking the larger bedroom...they gave me the larger bedroom until I was probably 8 or 9. I remember even at such a young age, that I was really proud of the fact that my parents entrusted the larger bedroom to me.
I remember up until I was around 12, going to Gold Circle with my dad to shop. He often would let me go play in the toys section while he went to the lunch counter to have coffee and smoke a cigarette. I would later come back and he would buy me a pop.
I remember going up to Perkins on top of the hill when I was still very young, especially the time when he joined Amway (which ended up being a joke, as you could guess) and he talked to me like I was a grown up, and explained to me how the program worked, and how he was going to make his millions. I didn't care about the money he was writing down on the napkin, all I cared about was that he was treating me like I was smart and an adult almost. I remember when he had drawn out plans for making our shoebox bigger, and how he was going to do it, and where my bedroom would be. I was so proud of his design and what his plans were.
When I was 9ish I joined the Parks baseball program. I remember being so proud of the fact that I was in fact using my dad's glove from his baseball playing days in highschool. I sucked at baseball...but it was something my dad enjoyed. He would go to the games, sometimes he would sub ump. He would help out the coaches during practice. But I also remember the first time(and only time)that I caught a fly ball. I was so excited to go back to the dug out and was waiting to see my dad's smile...and getting the pat on the back, but what awaited me was..."Good catch, but if you would have thrown it to second...you would have got a double"...I was devastated. Or when I was so proud to be picked for the Allstar team and after the game when I would brag to someone he jumped in and said that they had tried to give everyone a chance especially when it was their last year qualifying for the league.
I remember when he came to me after days of telling me that all the clothes he had in the car were going to the drycleaner, to tell me that he and my mom were separating. I remember how devastated I was. During their separation, our time together was so much more positive and wonderful. Like the time he took me to my first movie(Darbie O'gill and the little People..yep I remember the name of the movie). And then how he took me to the Woolworth's cafeteria for dinner. Then he told me I could get any record(a 45...actually...if you don't know what 45 was...dont ask, cuz then I will feel old! LOL)I wanted. The story records...with the book. I picked out the Frosty the Snowman one. Yes...I do remember.
I remember how when he moved back home how happy I was. Then, shortly after my sister was born, then came my brother. Suddenly he had to work all the time. I am sure that having a larger family now meant having to work more, and my time with my father was very limited...when he was home, my time had to be split between two little kids...but that was ok. Our trips out...became limited to none.
The next 8 years were very difficult for me. I no longer had my father around much because he was always working. When I did get to talk to him, he became very critical of me. Looking back, I know that he meant well...but damnit it hurt so bad! If I got a C, that wasn't good enough...if I got a B...why didn't you get an A....When our house got tp'd and egged when I was in 7 or 8th grade..it was my fault for having people that didn't like me. Needless to say this was the point where I started shut down.
Then, I didn't realize it, but he was like this with my mom too. I see it now, and mom and I discuss it often. At the time all I cared about was how it was effecting me.
This has even gone over into my adult life. When I left my first ex husband, the response from his was that he was disappointed in me that I left. He didn't care what had ended my marriage.
When I dated a guy for 8 months, and we broke up...he said I had let a good guy go. He didn't bother asking me why...because then he would have found out that he was cheating on me...several times with several women.
When I left my abusive second husband the first time, he told me that maybe I should go back, because maybe things were not as bad as I thought..after all I was sensitive. Boy did his opinion change after my second ex beat me up a few more times. In my eyes my dad failed me. He encouraged me to go back, just to get more abuse. Though I know now that I probably would have went back on my own anyways...but at the time, it didn't feel that way.
All through college this time, and the last time I went for a degree..I would come home after getting a good grade, and couldn't wait to tell him. It seems silly, but I so long for his approval. This is why I am such a perfectionist about my grades, and when I get an A- or lower...I get disappointed in myself. I do blame him, but I know that I need to stop that and blame myself. I need to quit being such the perfectionist and just do my best.
I know my thoughts on our past is probably skewed because of how sensitive I was then...but just one time when I say "Hey dad I got an 89 on this test", instead of hearing "Well you just missed an A, eh?", I'd hear...well if you tried your best, that is all you can do, good job. I so fear failing a class in school, because I don't want to disappoint him. That is just so wrong of me, but I can't seem to shake that feeling.
My mom and I both talk on numerous occasions on how nothing seems to please my dad. Not just with me, but with her also. Yet, my brother can do no wrong. Not too long ago, he accused me of making 20 dollars worth of long distance phone calls. When I argued with him, that I did not...it had to be my brother, he insisted that it wasn't him. I explained (and I guess him and my mom argued about this the night before) that if I were to make a long distance phone call...I would use my cell phone, because it was free. It wasn't until later that night when my brother came home, that it was settled that my brother had made the calls. That hurts. He doesn't trust me, yet I have not been arrested for DUI, quit jobs because I just don't like them, or anything like that, outside of having a child out of wedlock.
But I know...that he puts a roof over our heads, he got me a car to get from home to school, he loves Sunrise, and I do know he cares. I know that in his own twisted way, he is trying to encourage me to do better in life. To correct my life and make things better for myself and Sunrise...but it is twisted.
I just wish, in some way...that I could see the emotional love....not just the things that he does for us. I do not remember the last time he has been in the room long enough to give me a hug or a kiss on a cheek....or say "HEY good job". I could instigate the hug or kiss, but I quit doing that, because everyone doesn't want to do that all the time, with it not returned. Yeah...before we hang up...we say I love you...but sometimes the words are so empty, and just seem like they are required by him. But with every cell in my body...I do mean it.
Labels: dad
