It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday

Writing has been difficult over the past two weeks. I've sat down and thought, eh, I should throw up a post. I've been taking my food pictures and my gym pictures. I just couldn't write. I would be lying if I said it was I'm tired, I don't know what to say, I have self doubt...you know the usual. This time its grief. An unexpected tidal wave of unexpected grief. It wasn't an unexpected passing, to be honest, most of my life I've been waiting for the call I got two weeks ago. I would say "my father passed away" but that has the disingenuous ring to it. I had gone about as close to no contact as someone like me can go years ago. I won't disparage the man, because he's not here to defend himself or condemn me, and further more he left behind two sons that love him dearly and a wife who was a wonderful loving care taker for my Memaw and Robert (my biological father) when they needed it. I don't know the relationships the three of them had with him, partly his choice and by facto mostly my choice. He was an addict. And if anyone back home hates me for confessing that out in public, I'm sorry, but it really impacted the relationship we didn't have and it has actually been a major contributor to some deep rooted pain and insecurities that have major negative impacts on my mental health.

I thought I would experience relief from the guilt of the choice I made to live a separate life from him. This purposeful separation meant I wasn't entirely comfortable letting two of my brothers in my life, because he was attached. It meant I didn't see or call my Memaw as much as I should have because he might be there. I'm sure my family from there all have opinions of me and why I stayed away, probably none of them good, I'd say I don't care but I do...I just care about my mental health and also for the past decade my children as well. When I found out I was pregnant with Thing 2 I debated if I should even tell him. Sometimes he forgot the names of the kids, and I'm fairly certain the only reason he had a general idea of their ages was because my step-mother kept him in the loop. Some might say it was because I stayed away...but the truth is it was a brain soaked in his selfish choices. I daily remind myself and have for years, that even though I'm an adult, I was still someone's child...they just didn't know how to be a parent, at least to me. And yet, I still feel guilt.

I think in 8 years of playing in an orchestra he never made it to one concert. He offered to help my mother and aunt pay for my college, to continue my child support after I turned 18. He didn't. And the he had the audacity to say it was because he needed to take care of his family. I doubted that was the reason then, and at 40 I'm almost 100% sure it was to pay for his habit. I think I would be okay with it if it was about "his" family (guess I wasn't) but I'll never forgive him for putting a chemical over people. He did apologize to me once, after he had his stroke. I don't know if he meant it. I cried for 2 hours after that call, because I wasn't sure if I was an absolute dick or if I had done the right thing. He spouted off conspiracy theories, I think he believed them. He could barely be in the room with me for 5 minutes before he was ready to leave. We didn't know what to say to each other, and he was my father. I have some good memories, but honestly almost everything after I was about Thing1's age is sort of tinged with this haze of worry, concern, and and uncomfortableness that I can only describe as I felt like I was there because it was part of a custody agreement, not because there was any real love or affection. Ten is awfully young to feel out of place with your own parent.

I haven't felt relief. I'm not welcome to attend when his family scatters his ashes. I've accepted that. They will be mourning the loss of a loved one. I don't know what it would be for me. I cried in the gym, I cried in the grocery store when I passed Vienna sausages because I remember him eating them. I do not regret my decision, I have guilt that it may have hurt people or angered them, but I do not have regrets. What I used to take for granted was normal for other people to experience I've found out that not everyone had to deal with some of what I can recognize now as trauma that I experienced growing up. Being the child of an unplanned unwanted teenaged pregnancy I knew that there were some odds stacked against me. I'm not one for playing the odds and I led the life I did so that I wouldn't be a statistic. I've worked hard to be who and where I am today. It isn't where I want to be, there's still so much to do. More than working hard, I got really lucky along the way as well, I had love and support and kindness from family and from friends. I was lucky to have a really incredible step father (my dad, my pops) that supported me emotionally and made sure I had whatever I needed and more.

I think its been at least 24 hours sense I had a secret cry somewhere. To cry over grief that I don't have the right to have and to grief I didn't want to have. I don't want sympathy, I don't want kindness, I don't think I deserve peace. I just want to be. Be with my kids and love them. Love them so even if they sit down with a therapist in 30 years they will know they were cherished and loved and that no matter my special brand of crazy that they have always been and will be even after I'm gone first and foremost in everything I do. No special witty endings. Go put good into the universe.