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myABBAsheart's Blog

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To Begin Again.....


myABBAsheart

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I am new to this blog thing. I was at a retreat this weekend at my favorite place to connect with Christ. No noise, no distractions; I can clearly hear myself think. It was there that I was encouraged to find my voice again. First, I must add, please dismiss my grammar errors. I will go into that further down the road, I am sure, with my brain. I have a lot to share, I hope it is useful, hopeful and inspiring breath into someone. It is a hard place to be when you are surrounded by negativity and every time you see the light a train comes. I guess one can say, you are left feeling derailed.

At some of the darkest moments in my life, some people I thought of as friends deserted me-some because they cared about me and it hurt them to see me in pain; others because I reminded them of their own vulnerability, and that was more than they could handle. But real friends overcame their discomfort and came to sit with me. If they had not words to make me feel better, they sat in silence (much better than saying, "You'll get over it," or "It's not so bad; others have it worse") and I loved them for it.

- Harold Kushner, Living a Life that Matters

Recently, I loss my biological father. The thing is, how much it just hurt me to type that word biological. I can't just say father. It is a loss for me, even though I know he is in peace, he is in heaven with Christ. He was a War Veteran. He was forgotten, like many. He met my mother through the war. My Grandmothers were friends and mentioned sending the soldiers care packages. So she did.....months later when he was injured and in the hospital, she went to him. They dated and were married. They lost my twin sisters a year or so later. Their birthday just passed. They would of been 44. I wish I could of known them. I was nine when my mother told me about them. I was twelve when I left my home state and we stopped at their grave. I fell down and just sobbed. I knew, we were connected. I was so lonely as the only daughter, the girl who had a dad who was mentally and emotionally incapable from the start. Come to think of it, what a blessing it is for them to go ahead. They were so little, even if they did survive being born so early, they would not of been strong. They would not of emotionally survived as much as I have had to. They are in the arms of Christ, what better place to truly be!

I miss my dad. I miss being able to call him. I always could tell that he was upset through the phone. I had to do some serious, SERIOUS emotional exploration of what this was all about. Still processing this too. My parents divorced when my twin brother and I, were a year old. My oldest brother, who is bipolar because of the constant fear and trauma, was only four. He had great memories of my dad through going to the lake, or helping with the tools in the father and son bonding. The thing that can set a child over the edge is what is known as "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde combination. You never knew what to expect, that made it so much more devastating, the ups and downs. Never knew what you were walking into too. I had understood my mother divorcing him, there is a piece of me that still cannot understand moving so far away. I could NEVER do that to my kids. This set my dad further over the edge. He stopped interacting with us altogether. That shunning was so painful. He almost could not trust us kids when we talked to him. My mother remarried and we call my stepfather "Dad". He is amazing.

My dad had such a rough childhood. My grandfather was like a monster at times. However, he spoiled us at times and he was giving me male attention that I craved. I was the only granddaughter, until years later. He treated my only cousin horribly because she lived with them. Too much to go into here. Let's just say there are secrets in this home and such dysfunctionalities that occurred on a constant basis. My Dad never took us out of our site when my Grandfather was around. My dad never really took us anywhere or played with us. He was always distracted or not interested. I never recall going to the movies, to fairs, bowling, or anything like that. He never knew how to do this. My best memory of my Grandfather is buying me a Betsy Wetsy type doll and playing dolls with me afterwards. I froze waiting to be yelled at that I gave my doll water and it wet him. He got me to ease up and laugh. I was nervous because I know the anger that went on in the family and how that could shift at anytime. It was always there, one could cut it with a knife as you entered the house. There is so much deep pain here, I just won't go there. It is forgiven and no need to go back.

As for my Dad, when he was fourteen, my Grandfather took him out. My Grandfather was an alcoholic. He drank heavily. He took my Dad to a bar and got blitzed. He could not drive. He gave the keys to my father and physically demanded him to get in the car. My dad, who again was only fourteen, got into a car accident. My Grandfather got injured. He hurt his back and could never work again. He made my dad quit school, and support the family with a job. He never forgave my Grandfather for things. He always told me he was a "worthless human". My Grandmother he adored. He always said I fight like her. I never take crap from people. I always thought that was untrue. I am like her, I give people too much benefit of the doubt. I am Catholic, she was Catholic. I love tea like she does, I have her hands. I loved her hands!

I love my dad.....My dad never had a shot in life. He never had a high school diploma. He worked and went to war. Back in that day, you either went to college or went to war. As long as I can remember, he slept on the floor in the living room like he was in a bunker. He loved to watch M.A.S.H. every night. He would fall asleep on the floor and really insist on staying there. He had terrible nightmares. I would wake him up. He was screaming one night. He was fighting in his sleep. He did this every night. He told me to leave him alone when he is like this. I used to spend the summers with him. (That was my doing). His girlfriend said it helped him when I was there. His moods were easier to handle. SERIOUSLY! Looking back, I wish I could hug him again. I tried to be sympathetic, or did I not try enough?. I was too scared, he's turned on my before. He had rage. He had fears... He would want me to sleep on the floor with him. I really did not want too. He was always scared to fall asleep. I hated this for him. I REALLY hated this for us and my family that was torn. I eventually did fall asleep, he would hold me so darn tight. I could not breathe. He was disturbed. Sorry Dad, I could not, I was just a kid.

My dad could hardly ever talk about what he went through in The "Forgotten" War. If he had any ounce of self esteem left, it was gone. If he had any ounce, of sanity, it was gone. He was on so many medication, I have to say, I honestly never knew the real him. I never knew who he was truly supposed to be. No one really did. He was medicated. It masked his symptoms and honestly what I know, what I have always had a hard time with, was we never really knew him in a normal sense when he was not medicated. I don't doubt he did not need something, I tried to help him and get help in an natural way for him. He made better dietary choices and we shared that in our great moments over the phone. I wish I was there to help him. He never knew how much his children loved him. We were all trying desperately to reach him and get him to face his fears, to talk about it, to open up. To get him to understand, that we really want to know him. It was hard.

He built himself a knew life on top of things. He had a girlfriend and doted on her daughter. We were painfully pushed aside. He loved my mother but hated her for pushing him out for her children's sake. He played games, he was spiteful, he never supported me or my life. He always complained about what our problem was, what my problem was with him, yet never bothered to ask us directly. He never owned up to things, not with me. He treated me differently, he placed things on my shoulders. He made me feel disappointment in him. He made my heart break a thousand times over. He never EVER acknowledged my birthday. He did with my brothers. I don't know what I ever did to him. All I wanted was Dad. One who would read books, and just listen, and make me feel like I matter. One who, I don't have to worry about whether I have it right or wrong. One who would show up when he said he would and not leave me devastated when he did not. When I waited for him to call and explain, I expected him too. Hurt was when the grown up never knew to do that or say sorry to their own little girl. I wanted a man who would love my mother, not wish her dead every time I spoke of her. I wanted someone who had my heart. My Dad was not normal. I have learned to accept this over time. It has been almost forty years of hurt. I am letting go. I loved my Dad, I always, ALWAYS prayed for him. I prayed that one day, God will show him this. I prayed that he would know peace at some point in his life. He eventually did in his own way.

Right before he died, he pushed me around. My health for a long time has been at risk. I have known this. I was just desperate for him for some reason. I had not talked to him in a year before he died. He forgot my birthday, yet again. I turned 39. He called my twin brother and wished him a happy birthday. He never called me. I waited by the phone all day. If anyone ever asked me what I wanted, I just wanted to hear his voice. I don't think, even now, a person should have to reach out to someone to mention it was their birthday, just to have them wish them a happy birthday. I don't know what I was expecting either. I set myself up again. He never wished me a happy birthday. He never acknowledged it. My husband and children did everything possible to make me happy, I felt blessed, yet I was so utterly devastated again. I was so upset that I let him do this to me again. I could not do it anymore, it was hurting me. It was killing me.

My heart is completely torn in pieces over our journey together. I went to my Priest and just cried in the confessional. I was hoping it was just me, that I was having some sort of crazy breakdown. I told him so much. He assured me I was not crazy. He also had something in him that made me think, He said, "AH that's it", like he knew something about me and the way I carried myself. Like he just could not put a finger on it all this time he has known me. He told me to love focus on my husband alone and our children. However, I felt the need to call my dad, still holding on to hope. I would not pick up the phone, he really hurt me again. I kept thinking about what my Priest said, I focused on that because that was what Christ needed me to do. I had one last conversation on Christmas with Dad. I told him I loved him, I meant it. I just said it because it was so hard to get close to him. He called me again on my oldest daughters birthday. I could not call him back. I was trying to go forward again. I could not deal with calling him back. She is special needs, I did not want her to call him and be put through some things. I was already dealing a lot with her, I could not have any setbacks. The fact he remembered her birthday at all over all my children, makes up for all the times he never knew mine. This I have been telling myself! This is how I begin to heal. Now, I begin to heal! I am starting to find myself again...please let me go.

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