I'm struggling.
Right now, it feels like every day is a struggle. I know the winter blues have gotten their wicked grasp on me this year, more so than ever before, because of everything that happened last month.
I stopped going to therapy... I realized in December that I wasn't getting what I needed out of it anymore. I learned some really valuable lessons and skills in the first six months and continue to put them to use and for that, I'm thankful. While I have so much respect for my therapist and she really, truly was amazing and so incredibly smart, I felt like she too often forgot to focus on the fact that I'm a daughter in all of this and not a Masters level Social Worker.
But I did start working out again (after taking a FAR-too-long hiatus) so I'm hoping that helps to elevate my spirits... or at least help me lose a few pounds!
For weeks I've been wanting to write down the feelings in my head. I'm a "thinker" by nature so whenever I'm not thinking of something in particular, I start to think about whatever is hitting me the most at the time. For the past month, those thoughts have revolved around my dad.
December was an unusually cruel month in my life. One I was both happy to see go and didn't want to end. Knowing that we're done with the legal proceedings is both comforting and sad for me. Because it means this is all a part of my past now... a "past" I didn't feel ready to let go of. I am relieved, however, by the fact that I no longer have to be fearful of what the outcome may be. What needed to happen, happened. As hard and painful as that may be.
The 19th, sentencing day, was especially traumatic. I relive that day often. Seeing him fall apart in court... saying words of love and then words of hate. Knowing that the whole world was about to see just how bad his behavior could be but knowing that now it was far, far worse. The man they splashed across every local news station was NOT my dad.... the dad I once knew seems to be gone. A person of my past. The man in that courtroom was a different person, one that has significant mental health issues and desperately needs help (but refuses to seek or allow for it).
I struggle every day with how I grieve for my dad. One moment, I miss him terribly. I think about past memories with him. I hear his voice and the excitement and happiness it could hold (usually pertaining to Liana). I remember so clearly how much he loved my kids... the way he sat and read book after book to them. The way he colored at the kitchen table with Liana (and truly did color). He lived at their beck and call. I miss the way he would call me up and say, "You tell that peanut how much her papa misses her!" and then guilt me into bringing her over despite the fact that we were usually there just about every day. I remember looking out our back window and watching him push her on the swings, just beaming with pride and happiness. I remember the way he selflessly gave up his time to watch her/them whenever I needed help.
I also remember how often he was there to help Mike and I. Anytime something went wrong with the house, he was the one we called. If we needed something done, he did it.
He was my go-to guy. I miss that. So, so much.
But after I remember all these things, I then remember how hard it often was. How he could say such cruel things when he was angry. The way in which everyone walked on eggshells around him. How he tried his hardest to control what we all did or were going to do. I remember the anger, the outbursts, the silent treatment we'd receive for days on end if things didn't go "his way". I remember him turning our lives upside down more than once when he decided he didn't want to participate in his marriage anymore. I remember the lack of consideration he showed to us throughout the divorce proceedings and ultimately, the night of February 15th. I remember how much harder he made this past year when it seems that a "good person" who loved his family would have done anything to make things right and avoided causing any more pain.
Every day, I struggle with where to go from here. Do I write or do I wait for him to write? Do I tell him I love him in hopes that it'll help crumble that wall he's built so high? Or do I let those words pass me by? Do I put my heart on the line for a man who put us all through hell, or do I just walk away? Half of me wants to have a relationship with him still but the other half knows how foolish that would be. I fear he'll use me and manipulate me. I fear that he'll tell me what I want to hear just to get the things he wants. I fear that he won't mean whatever it is that he would say. Being betrayed by him in this way has been terrible enough but at least he's been honest (it feels terrible to say that, considering what his "honesty" has entailed)... I can't even begin to imagine how hard it would be to be lied to as well. I can't handle him telling me he loves me when in reality, he may very well hate me.
I feel like I have this huge void in my life now. A couple of weeks ago I finally thought to myself, "Wow, THIS is what grief feels like." For years I've been working in grief & loss with my patients and their families but I never truly understood what it was they were facing. Now I do. I know what grief feels like now. I know how deeply it goes into a person's soul when they lose someone so important to them. I know just how much it hurts.
(To clarify... more so for my own benefit than anyone else's due to a guilty conscious... I have grieved before. The loss of our baby to my miscarriage. But the grief I feel for my dad is very different than the grief I felt for our baby. And the grief I feel for my dad is far more relate-able in terms of the work I do.)
I often wonder if losing my dad to prison is harder than it would be if I had lost him to death. My dad was ripped from my life just the same as he would have been if he had died. The only difference is that instead of dying, he's sitting in a cell somewhere, CHOOSING not to be a part of my life anymore. Which hurts more? I can't say for sure, but knowing that your parent abandoned and walked away from you hurts like hell.
I realized over the past few weeks that I was in survival mode throughout the ten months leading up to sentencing. While I thought I was "dealing" with everything, I see now that I was only dealing with one side of things... the side that I could see and feel the most - my mom's side of things. I've grieved what he did to her and the lasting effects it's had on her and I know I'll continue to do so. I know that while my grief may someday take a vacation, it's only a matter of time until it comes back and I'm again reminded of this chapter in her story. But for the past ten months, my focus has been predominantly on her... likely out of a need for self preservation. How could I cope with the loss of him at the same time I was trying to cope with what he did to her? And getting her through the mess he made? It wasn't possible. But now, now I know I'm out of "survival" mode. I now feel the gravity of the situation....
My dad is in prison and will likely die there. While he's currently in Jackson, he could be shipped off to anywhere in the state in just a few short weeks... It could be 1 hour away or 10 hours away. He doesn't want to talk to me and I may never get the chance to see him again, at least while he's alive. I worry every day about whether he'll take his own life. I don't know how he's doing, what his days are like, whether he's lonely or made friends. After 30 years together, my dad has become an absolute stranger to me.
I really pray that this gets easier with time. I pray that I find resolution within myself to know what's right and what's wrong when it comes to my dad. I pray that God gives me the direction I need.
No comments:
Post a Comment