There is a Hallmark show, When Calls The Heart, I started watching in Seattle that I pretty much only got into because my girl friends did, but I stayed with it because I liked it and I could watch it in front of my Wee One without worrying about what she saw or heard.
I had an experience Monday that sent me back down a shame spiral; a spiral of despair and loneliness I haven’t felt in a long time. Am I being hyperbolic? Maybe, but I was really upset.
I am not going to go into the whole experience, but it was the kind of situation that I went to meet someone and they weren’t there. It was actually a comedy of errors with miscommunication and we did get together and have lunch, but I’m reflecting on the experience beforehand, in hopes of finding healing.
I was a sensitive child, and I am a sensitive person. I imagine that is what makes me an effective counselor. But I am so embarrassed by that.
I Can’t Stay Mad at You
My birth father doesn’t know about the Wee One. At least, I didn’t tell him, though in these days of internet, he may know. His first grandchild, and he doesn’t know – we haven’t talked in 14 years. In the past, the few times we did talk, I was resentful of him and the years of abuse, but I was also hopeful for reconciliation. Then, when his current wife was reaching out to me, (a really fucking interesting series of conversations there),
Awhile ago I reblogged a post on what it means to date a girl without a father, and I think there needs to be a follow up article on what it means to have a child with a woman without a father. Just like its tricky to date one, its tricky to start a family with one.
Here’s what you need to know:
I am sharing a link to this article because I don’t know that I’ve ever read it put into better words, the way it feels, or rather, the way it feels for me now: The abandonment and abuse of my birth father. I wonder about him and if and how I tie into his family. Can I lose something I don’t know if I had?
…that is the most terrifying thing she has ever learned. If the only man she ever truly needed left when she was not done needing him, it is fair game for anyone else to decide it’s not worth it. For anyone else to decide she’s not worth it.
“Always have a back door” was been my unofficial motto, like, forever. Never be trapped. Never be in a place that I can not handle or get out of on my own. Even after marriage, the lack of trust still crops up, sadly.
In order to better understand what makes me, I would want to study Greg, my birth father’s, family. I don’t feel like i know that side at all. Most of the information I have is either second-hand or form half-faded memories of a child. I want to understand, as an adult, what I came from. Continue reading “Just Digging for Roots in the Ol’ Family Tree”
I breathed deeply the fresh woodsy air and adjusted the leather bound books of my booth. The cannon announcing the opening of Faire had already been shot, and it was just a matter of time before people started streaming through the lane in front of me. I was quickly lost in the current of old friends long unseen and patrons coming in.
During the first lull in the crowd, a man came to the register with several small notebooks with Celtic symbols etched into them; some of my newer pieces. I smiled at him, glancing at his face briefly before taking the proffered card. The receipt printed off, and as I started to lay it out to hand him, I read his name.
Several weeks ago, I wrote about losing or not having a father. I’d like to continue those thoughts on something I found: a father figure.
A few years ago, at a football game at my old high school, the marching band director was going to be recognized for 25 years of teaching. Since Cohiba and I met in marching band, we both went back to see him, and a lot of people we had known were also there. It was fun.
That night, he was really happy to see that Cohiba and I were together, he asked about our parents, he knew about my accident and asked about my life since then. Later, I was listening to him talk to the band – so familiar – and remembering how it felt to hear him say the things he said – so encouraging.
I realized this was the only man who was in my life consistently and regularly during a traditionally challenging and influential time in a person’s life. He was also the only man I’ve ever really trusted before Cohiba. He set boundaries with me, scolded me when I was a brat, and encouraged me to do the right thing. He did the things for me I imagine a father would do.
I treasure my memories of him.