It has been about 3 years since I've really had a father. The person that he is now is not the person I grew up with and there are several major factors that have to change before I can again consider him by that title. There are certain people who feel that I am heartless and cold -- but I cannot allow him to be enabled and will not have compassion on him until he admits his own faults. Needless to say, we have not spoken since February.
My best friend and I had a conversation a few weeks ago about her injury and how she has just been sitting in wait for months while the doctors try to figure it out. She said that she gets frustrated sometimes because when she tells certain friends how lonely she feels about sitting at home all the time that they give the "Sunday School" answer of "But, you're never alone. He is always with you." Her frustration with that answer comes from the fact that she knows that. It has been Him that she has been clinging to through all of this, Him who has brought her through it. She is just physically lonely. Her family is amazing and they've taken amazing care of her, but she's learning who her true friends are now.
I get that completely. I've been there; am still there in some regards to friendships, etc. I am SO grateful for the love of a Heavenly Father. I am saved and renewed by His example of unconditional love and commitment. Nothing can separate me (truly) from His love.
Its fitting that this week is Father's Day as I had reason to think of my own father for the first time in several weeks. I feel badly about his current situation. But to say that he is a victim of circumstances is beyond what I believe is a fair statement. He is, merely, a victim of himself.
When I took advantage of the free counseling offered to CCU students, my counselor and I worked through a lot of my emotional issues. My whole life I have had difficulty expressing what I am feeling. I've shared that on most Christmases until I was 20, I would be very angry and in a foul mood. I once threw my tenth birthday present across the room. When I was 6, I laughed when my mom told me that my grandpa had died. And in counseling, I finally got to talk about those issues. Jenny, my counselor, gave me a "feeling wheel" which I became dependent upon in our sessions. She would make me identify how I felt about the topics we discussed by using the wheel. Eventually I learned to be able to better say what I was feeling without this aid. One thing that I learned was that anger itself is not considered an emotion. Anger is a reaction to an emotion. On Christmases and Birthdays my emotion was excitement, and I responded in anger.
My mom is always telling me that I need to let go of the anger I have toward my dad. But knowing that anger is a mere reaction to what I'm really feeling her request is easier said than done. In this case, my anger is a reaction to my disappointment. I am disappointed that I have to mourn the loss of my father to whom I never had the chance to say good-bye. I am disappointed that I have to try to paint a picture of who he was to people who can never truly understand. I am disappointed that I have been lied to and manipulated. I am disappointed that he can never see me get married or graduate from college because he chose a woman he is no longer with over me. I am disappointed that I feel like my whole life until now has been a lie.
This is all, in honor of Father's Day, that I have left to say (written circa 2007):
A Venomous Disguise
Call me a rat.
A furry vermin,
four legs with a tail.
Stupid is my middle name;
because he lied,
over and over;
and I believed him
every time,
regardless of the legend.
I couldn’t help it.
He hissed the words
when he put them past
his fragmented lips
with a laugh,
and a slither.
Dubious as it should have been,
I am hitherto a rat
blinded by his venomous disguise,
I was converted
to the faith of the traitor –
exchanging my rodent loyalties
for my own head.
Watching him feast on bones
crushed in his throat, I listened
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