burried hurts, and misguided lies

The pain our parents can dole out upon our lives can be lasting. At one point I thought that the issues with my relationship with my father had been dealt with.

I was wrong.

My childhood is split in two. The chasm of drug addiction forever changed my relationship with my father. Before his addictions gained the upper hand in his life he was a fun-loving playful soul. My father was my buddy. I was a true blue daddy's girl. Everything my daddy did, I wanted to do. Wherever he went, I wanted to tag along. On construction sites, to the lumberyard, the junkyard, around town running errands, anywhere and everywhere my daddy went I wanted to go.

Then he changed.

In what feels like an instant, my daddy became another man. The daddy I adored so very much was dead and gone, and in his place stood a shell of a man. A man so gripped by his addiction that he was blinded to all the hurt he was causing. He states nowadays that he purposefully worked himself out of my life and became distant to protect me. Unaware--even still-- of the damage that action caused me.

It hurt so much. Time and time again I would find myself so disappointed and heartbroken. My father's addiction controls him. He wants so desperately to be free, and he has been, but he just cannot break the chains his addictions hold over his life. Even thinking of this breaks my heart yet again. I can't stand the fact that the daddy I so loved as a little girl is dead and gone, and in his place is a broken, lifeless man. The saddest part of all is that my father will likely die without ever having lived. He will likely lose this fight. I want so badly to see that light in those ice blue eyes of his. Just once more. What I would give just to see his face light up with that infectious smile and his piercing baby blues twinkle.

How do you mourn the loss of someone who you see every day? The paradox that is the life of my father. He is alive and well. And yet all the while he is dead and gone. Buried deep within the confines of crack addiction is my daddy. Will he ever see the light of day again? I am not sure. But I refuse to give up hope. I know that he is capable of being clean. He just has to want it bad enough.

It is almost indescribable the hurt that I feel knowing that my daddy, the one I miss so dearly is here, just hidden away. That the one I spent my days with, the one I palled around with is missing. But yet a very similar man is ever-present in my life. This man looks exactly like my beloved daddy, only aged. He sounds like him, it's all the same man...only he is empty. His eyes no longer sparkle, they cry out with the anguish of a man so full of life caught in the death grip of addiction. He sits there in his room with crack rock after crack rock, day in and day out. Living the life of a dead man. He tells me he loves me more than I know. He loves me more than anything... But how do I believe this? How when I would ask him to come to my school functions, or see me sing at church...or just talk to me, and he chose to get high instead. I want to be angry about this. But while he lit that pipe and smoked it every time on his own volition, he is also controlled by it. It is there screaming in his ear ever louder, a near brute force twisting his arm, his will and ultimately controlling his entire life.

Heartbreaking.

I learned as a young girl to just turn off my feelings of hurt. And when it was really bad, I would just flip that feeling of hurt into fuel for anger. I got to where it hurt too much to hurt. I refused to be hurt, I just chose to either turn it off and bury it within, or get angry. It became so much of my daily life with my father that it translated into my relationships with others. I thought that this was a great solution. I was wrong. It was fine and dandy while I was in the situation. Because frankly it was a day to day thing. It was seemingly more worthwhile to just act as though it weren't happening rather than attempt to heal from hurts every single day. Especially when those hurts would not end, nor would my need for restitution be satiated. It was one of my many auto-protect mechanisms.

I am now discovering the many facets of my childhood need to protect my heart, and the seemingly brash and harsh ways I deal with those who hurt me. I am realizing that I need to allow people to be people. I cannot protect myself from further hurts. People do not live up to our expectations, they disappoint, upset and annoy us, and they break our hearts. But these are all the plot twists that create the great novels of our human existence.

I have realized that I attempt to force anyone who crosses me to pay for the hurts my father caused (and still causes). This is no one's debt to pay. My father could have apologized all the times he hurt me, but he didn't. And now the damage is done. I choose to forgive him. And now I need to allow myself to heal. So that is my mission right now. To fix me...

I am the fixer. The one who must fix it...whatever it is I must make an attempt to make it better. So here goes. No matter the multitude of tears and personal wrangling, and contemplation I will fix this. I will find the way to fix me. And thus fix my relationships both current and future.

The woman I want to be is not a harsh volatile person who causes people to tread with fear and trepidation around her. I want to be exactly the opposite of that. I want to be an approachable kind woman who instills a feeling of trust in all the souls she encounters.

Obviously I want this fix to be permanent. And I would love to be able to just flip a switch and be that woman...but healing and retraining yourself takes time. A dear friend (one of the most influential friends I have made, and one who wounded me deeply...a previous blog is written on this topic) who knows me more than I know myself at times, gave me some of the best words of encouragement: "Val you need to be patient with yourself. You cannot unlearn something you have done your entire life in one day. You worked hard to protect yourself in that way, and that is the way you know. " That is what I will tell myself. Continue on...press in and fix this. I will heal from this deep set wound from my childhood, and be the woman I long to be.

loss on top of loss...

Wow...what can I say besides wow.

People surely never cease to amaze me. So my supposed best friend, and roommate has done just that: amaze me...well maybe a more accurate description is: disappoint and appall.

I just don't understand people.

So here I am in the midst of dealing with the loss of my aunt, the one and only aunt I am close to(One of the only 4 people in my dad's family I am close to). And my supposed best friend couldn't care less. I told her of the situation with my aunt the day it happened, when she was put into the ICU and on the ventilator. She had no concern or even interest--or so it seemed. And through the following weekend and into the next week I heard nothing, nor was I checked on by my supposed best friend.

How is it that near strangers are calling me and texting me and emailing me to see how I am and how my aunt is doing? And my best friend can't even find the concern to even ask me how I am or how it is going with my aunt?

So now I am left in the aftermath of the loss of my aunt, left in the middle of the grieving process and my best friend has no idea that she even died, nor--as it seems--does she even care.

For the first time in my life I am left at a loss for words. I have nothing at all to say to her...nothing. I don't even want to look at her, let alone speak to her. I am so upset, disappointed, and hurt by her I have nothing to say.

There will be words said, but not now. Not while I am dealing with more important things... I just don't see the worth in speaking to her right now.... A good friend suggested that maybe she is going through some hard times as well and she just hasn't told me about them...but if that is the case, she should speak up. And even still she should be able to care a little about my losing someone close to me. I would think that were just basic human compassion...but apparently she is devoid of this...it is just too hard to think outside her own juvenile world, and think about someone else for one second.

This whole situation is ridiculous. At this point I feel our friendship is over. Why should I invest so much time and energy and caring in someone who can't even show the slightest bit of concern for my life? So how should I even want to fix things between us? I see no worth in fixing our friendship at this point... I just want to tell her exactly how she has hurt me, and explain to her that from here on out we are simply roommates. Just people that live together. That is it. No concern for the other's well being, nothing. Just roommates, no longer friends.

I feel that is what this comes down to...she has shown her true colors. And they are colors I don't like... she has shown me who she really is. And I suppose who she really is is not someone I want in my life. So unfortunately not only in the last week have I lost my aunt, but now I have lost my best friend as well.