Giving it Back
After my mother's passing, I went to go see the high priestess of my former circle. We talked of many things, but she said something to me that really stuck. That is that I am carrying burdens of my past that serve nothing except to hurt me, and in order for me to keep growing, I need to let them all go. These burdens teach no lessons, and worse than that I seem to drag them out in order to flog myself with them. A torturous device of my own keeping. After rereading my last post I realize that I have a real big one and it is time to let go.
Dad,
When I was a child and you went off to work, coming home only on the occasional weekend, I asked Mom why. She said it was something you had to do for us all and not to mention it to you because it hurt you to be away from us as much as it hurt us not to have you there. I accepted that answer, but it made me think that if not for me, you would have been at home.
When I was twelve and began to rebel, it was because I was given everything. I was given expensive toys, expensive clothes and plenty of time to be by myself. I had time to think of what I wasn't given. I had plenty of stuff but because I wasn't learning disabled or a sports star I was deemed fine to be there alone, resenting every second you and Mom spent with my brother. I hated him for it then and that feeling has never left me. I still hate him for it and it isn't his fault.
When Mom and I had all our problems I used to crave your coming home from work because it meant that I got to come home to the picture of home, hearth and happiness. I bought into your picture of family because I wanted it too, I always wanted it. I would make nice with Mom just so I could spend 10 minutes on a Sunday morning in love, feeling a part of a family that didn't want me.
When I was older I tried to meet you as an adult. I wasn't an adult, but I tried to be so maybe we could have a common ground. I moved out, moved away, moved back and the entire time I remember having you worry about me because I was making mistake after mistake and I kept on making them so I could cry to you how I didn't know what I was doing. Every so often it worked.
I have come to realize that in the past 5 years that a goodly portion of the time I've spent crying has been for you; for the time we haven't spent and for the relationship we don't have. Until today I have trudged on still feeling like I don't matter all that much to you. I mean how could I mean anything to you at all, when you have to steal away from your girlfriend to see me; or when you have to beg or bribe her to have me in your house. How is it that you can cast me and my family aside so quickly and easily to accommodate her? I feel like I'm twelve years old again, but instead of hating my brother I have to hate her. But it is not her fault either. She may give you the ultimadeum, but you take it. You choose. And again I don't feel worthy. I can send you positive and glowing progress reports of how I am making my life better and they are met only with your platitudinal indifference. And it isn't good enough. I don't feel good enough. I don't know what I have to do to be good enough, but I am tired of trying.
I am an adult now. I have my family. I have my picture of home hearth and happiness. I have worked for it. I give my blood, sweat and tears to them and I make it work daily. It is my labour of love. I may not make the money Vance does, I may not have the things but I'm happy with who I am. I am happy with what I have accomplished. I don't need your approval. I refuse to let your ignorance of me affect me any longer. I don't need it and you can have back all the tears I've cried for want of your love.