and
Discuss.
Showing posts with label Father/Daughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Father/Daughter. Show all posts
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Friday, September 2, 2011
Some Lessons Learned From My Dad
- People with a different last name can be the greatest family you've ever had.
- Sometimes, you're gonna get shit on. It's ok, you can always take a shower.
- Always be nice at Christmas.
- It's ok to call someone three times in an hour if you really miss them.
- Talk to those you love everyday if you can.
- A stick of butter makes anything taste delicious.
- Buy what you want and figure out how to pay for it later. (Not my favorite lesson.)
- When your kid makes stupid choices, love her anyway.
- Be the best friend you know how to be. And always have time for an old friend.
- Biological family is important - but don't let them treat you poorly.
- Your spouse IS your better half. Love her like there is no tomorrow.
- People need help. Have your truck, trailer or trunk ready. There's usually an ice cold MGD waiting.
- Lighten up. Seriously. Life is meant to be lived.
- Anything can be deep fried.
- Never gamble with scared money. If you are scared to lose it, it's almost guaranteed you will.
- September 2nd is an AWESOME day for a party. (And if your daughter throws a party for 60 of her closest friends while you are away camping, don't kill her.)
Happy Birthday, Dad!
I used the extra big font just for you ;)
*Links provided to prove I really learned the lesson. LOL
I used the extra big font just for you ;)
*Links provided to prove I really learned the lesson. LOL
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Fathers and Daughters
I don't have the emotional strength to relive the past for you today. But I hope you might take the time to read what I wrote when I had the strength.
Nature vs. Nurture
A Girl Needs Her Daddy
An Old Journal Writing
I don't have the time to write some beautiful prose about how my stepfather has come to be a father that I truly love. But trust me when I tell you, he has. I wish more than anything that he lived next door.
I don't regret any of the bullshit we experienced in the last 32 years, but I am more likely to recall the good stuff - like the mashed potato patties, the steak fondue, the motorcycle rides, and the lighter between his toes.
I love that crazy man, and I am thankful that he stuck around long enough for me to realize it.
Nature vs. Nurture
A Girl Needs Her Daddy
An Old Journal Writing
I don't have the time to write some beautiful prose about how my stepfather has come to be a father that I truly love. But trust me when I tell you, he has. I wish more than anything that he lived next door.
I don't regret any of the bullshit we experienced in the last 32 years, but I am more likely to recall the good stuff - like the mashed potato patties, the steak fondue, the motorcycle rides, and the lighter between his toes.
I love that crazy man, and I am thankful that he stuck around long enough for me to realize it.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Fathers
I might have written about fathers a time or two...
An Old Journal Writing
Speaking of Old Friends...
A Girl Needs Her Daddy
Nature vs. Nurture
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Associating Positive Feelings with a Negative Incident
I was molested as a child. I know that is a pretty cliché statement for an emotionally dysfunctional female, but I have a unique tale to tell. I want to share it in case someone has experienced something similar and did NOT have the wise counsel I did to help me through it.
I never told anyone. I never wrote about in my journal. I never even really acknowledged it until 2003. I had moved back to Minnesota and was horribly depressed (NOT because I was molested, but because the sun never shines in that God-forsaken place). In an effort to clear out my head, I started writing daily. One random day in December, the subject came up.
Dec 16, 2003
There were at least 10 people I was intimate with by the time I was 10 years old. Some relatives, some females, some I was perfectly comfortable with (some were not so comfortable). Why does the fact that I was molested not seem to affect me?
When I was three years old, there was a man’s touch that I enjoyed, but it only happened once. For many years, I longed for him. Why is it that I have a love for him rather than a hate? How can I not be angry with him?
Why do I have the memory? Does he? If he does, I desperately want him to know that it is okay. He did not harm me – I feel as if he actually showed me love, care, compassion. That night in his bed is a good memory.
WTF is wrong with me?! How could I write/feel something so perverse? I was THREE YEARS OLD! Am I completely psychotic? Am I supposed to talk about this with someone?
If I ever feel led to say anything to anyone, I pray that I have the opportunity to tell him that it is okay. I would never want him to carry any burden about it…
This journal writing bothered me for quite some time. I didn’t understand. The whole thing was confusing to me. I wanted to know how I could be okay with someone wronging me in the worst possible way.
Soon after, I started to see a counselor for my depression. In March of 2004, I finally told her about the molestation and asked her all my questions. Her explanation was so very helpful to me. Her words brought me so much comfort and relief. She wasn’t able to answer all of my questions, but she brought enough closure to the issue that I have never looked back.
When a person is three-years-old, we are not mentally developed enough to know that sexual touch from an older person is wrong. If there is no physical pain involved, our bodies then associate a positive feeling with the incident. Only when we are older do we associate moral opinions with the incident (but yet still carry the positive physical feeling).
Because the touch was not painful, my body associated happy thoughts with intimacy. The fact that it happened again by someone else taught me that such activity was “common” or “acceptable,” “normal,” “okay.” This deleted the possibility that I would ever tell another adult, and so the molestations continued (and realize that sometimes, I was the aggressor).
The counselor went on to explain that when I was older, say 7 or 8, that I associated moral right or wrong and emotion with each incident. I re-created the memories to include whatever mentally developed thoughts I had. By that time, the repeated actions by others had ingrained in my mind that intimacy between two people – regardless of age or gender – was okay. Thus, deleting the possibility that I would ever tattle, and increasing my desire to have such intimate interactions with people.
There is NOTHING haywire with my brain. I am NOT psychotic! I just have a very different experience than most children who are molested.
http://www.childmolestationprevention.org/
Don’t misunderstand. There are side effects to my unique story. However, the side effects, I think, are of a completely different nature than most children who are molested. The most obvious of side effects is my ridiculous sex drive – seriously, like I could have relations with my husband four times a day if he was up for it. I believe this stems from my positive feeling associated with the first incident. I also place a LOT of importance on physical intimacy - much more than I should. I have a great fear of rejection, but only in regards to physical intimacy. Even so much as if my husband doesn’t kiss me the minute he sees me, I feel rejected. I know that my issues are still issues that I need to deal with. But truthfully, I think the abandonment by my father and the emotional abuse I suffered as a child had a much more lasting effect on my psyche than the fact that I was molested.
Thankfully, my counselor back in 2004 helped me see that I am not crazy. If you have dealt with molestation, please know I am sorry. But also know that there are a plethora of avenues to get help.
http://www.darkness2light.org/
Post Secret
I never told anyone. I never wrote about in my journal. I never even really acknowledged it until 2003. I had moved back to Minnesota and was horribly depressed (NOT because I was molested, but because the sun never shines in that God-forsaken place). In an effort to clear out my head, I started writing daily. One random day in December, the subject came up.
Dec 16, 2003
There were at least 10 people I was intimate with by the time I was 10 years old. Some relatives, some females, some I was perfectly comfortable with (some were not so comfortable). Why does the fact that I was molested not seem to affect me?
When I was three years old, there was a man’s touch that I enjoyed, but it only happened once. For many years, I longed for him. Why is it that I have a love for him rather than a hate? How can I not be angry with him?
Why do I have the memory? Does he? If he does, I desperately want him to know that it is okay. He did not harm me – I feel as if he actually showed me love, care, compassion. That night in his bed is a good memory.
WTF is wrong with me?! How could I write/feel something so perverse? I was THREE YEARS OLD! Am I completely psychotic? Am I supposed to talk about this with someone?
If I ever feel led to say anything to anyone, I pray that I have the opportunity to tell him that it is okay. I would never want him to carry any burden about it…
This journal writing bothered me for quite some time. I didn’t understand. The whole thing was confusing to me. I wanted to know how I could be okay with someone wronging me in the worst possible way.
Soon after, I started to see a counselor for my depression. In March of 2004, I finally told her about the molestation and asked her all my questions. Her explanation was so very helpful to me. Her words brought me so much comfort and relief. She wasn’t able to answer all of my questions, but she brought enough closure to the issue that I have never looked back.
When a person is three-years-old, we are not mentally developed enough to know that sexual touch from an older person is wrong. If there is no physical pain involved, our bodies then associate a positive feeling with the incident. Only when we are older do we associate moral opinions with the incident (but yet still carry the positive physical feeling).
Because the touch was not painful, my body associated happy thoughts with intimacy. The fact that it happened again by someone else taught me that such activity was “common” or “acceptable,” “normal,” “okay.” This deleted the possibility that I would ever tell another adult, and so the molestations continued (and realize that sometimes, I was the aggressor).
The counselor went on to explain that when I was older, say 7 or 8, that I associated moral right or wrong and emotion with each incident. I re-created the memories to include whatever mentally developed thoughts I had. By that time, the repeated actions by others had ingrained in my mind that intimacy between two people – regardless of age or gender – was okay. Thus, deleting the possibility that I would ever tattle, and increasing my desire to have such intimate interactions with people.
There is NOTHING haywire with my brain. I am NOT psychotic! I just have a very different experience than most children who are molested.
http://www.childmolestationprevention.org/
Don’t misunderstand. There are side effects to my unique story. However, the side effects, I think, are of a completely different nature than most children who are molested. The most obvious of side effects is my ridiculous sex drive – seriously, like I could have relations with my husband four times a day if he was up for it. I believe this stems from my positive feeling associated with the first incident. I also place a LOT of importance on physical intimacy - much more than I should. I have a great fear of rejection, but only in regards to physical intimacy. Even so much as if my husband doesn’t kiss me the minute he sees me, I feel rejected. I know that my issues are still issues that I need to deal with. But truthfully, I think the abandonment by my father and the emotional abuse I suffered as a child had a much more lasting effect on my psyche than the fact that I was molested.
Thankfully, my counselor back in 2004 helped me see that I am not crazy. If you have dealt with molestation, please know I am sorry. But also know that there are a plethora of avenues to get help.
http://www.darkness2light.org/
Post Secret
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Possible Side Effects
One of my most favorite books is “Possible Side Effects” by Augusten Burroughs. It is a book that randomly accounts the life of a man. The story is written in first person, and I don’t think the character’s name is ever stated. This writing style results in the reader never actually knowing if the book recounts the life of the author or someone else or if it is made up. Either way, this book is HILARIOUS. It makes me laugh out loud (just as much as Stephanie Plum!). If you have not read it, I recommend it.
Another reason I love this book, is because it is exactly the kind of book I want to write. I would record all of the things I remember in my life and add in the psychological aspects, the growth aspects, the spiritual aspects. Is there a market for this? Is it self-help or fiction? Will it be the autobiography I’ve always dreamed of writing? Would it have to be in chronological order? Would anyone learn anything from the circumstances I have dealt with in my life? Which ones do I include and which ones do I keep out? Are some things too private? With my book, I think the Possible Side Effects would be pissing off people who are included in the book. Would I be able to mask the truth (to protect my relationships) and still be able to convey my message (to help the reader grow)? Do I focus on childhood, teenage or adult years? Can I get three or four or five books out of my life? (I have three blogs, why not five books?)
I have memories that start when I was less than two years old. I know the memories are from this time, because my sisters left me when I was less than two years old. I also know that the memories are mine and not implanted by someone else or a photograph, because I have never told anyone these memories.
The very first memory I have is of my two sisters and I, late at night. We should have been sleeping, but instead we were all on the top bunk. We were giggling. And then we heard a door slam and Mandy said, “Uh oh, Brian is home.” And we were all instantly scared. We cowered in the top bunk together until all was quiet and then I climbed down the ladder and went to my bed. For most of my life, I thought we were scared because Brian was mean, because he had come home drunk and we thought we would be beaten. I think I assessed the situation this way based on what I learned of him growing up. Now that I have a toddler, I realize that we were probably scared because we knew we were doing something we were not supposed to be doing – we should have been sleeping!
My next memory actually includes my biological father. The details are hazy, but I was in his apartment. I can see the layout. I met his girlfriend, Lynn. She was tall and skinny and had long dark hair. I liked her. The same memory includes Rick dropping me off at my mom’s house on Louisiana Ave in Crystal. He was holding me. He had on a hat - brown leather. He had a mustache. I was happy.
Okay, not funny like Augusten Burroughs, but entertaining none the less. “Possible Side Effects” probably sold millions of copies. My book might not sell millions. But if one person learns from it, it would be worth all of the effort.
Another reason I love this book, is because it is exactly the kind of book I want to write. I would record all of the things I remember in my life and add in the psychological aspects, the growth aspects, the spiritual aspects. Is there a market for this? Is it self-help or fiction? Will it be the autobiography I’ve always dreamed of writing? Would it have to be in chronological order? Would anyone learn anything from the circumstances I have dealt with in my life? Which ones do I include and which ones do I keep out? Are some things too private? With my book, I think the Possible Side Effects would be pissing off people who are included in the book. Would I be able to mask the truth (to protect my relationships) and still be able to convey my message (to help the reader grow)? Do I focus on childhood, teenage or adult years? Can I get three or four or five books out of my life? (I have three blogs, why not five books?)
I have memories that start when I was less than two years old. I know the memories are from this time, because my sisters left me when I was less than two years old. I also know that the memories are mine and not implanted by someone else or a photograph, because I have never told anyone these memories.
The very first memory I have is of my two sisters and I, late at night. We should have been sleeping, but instead we were all on the top bunk. We were giggling. And then we heard a door slam and Mandy said, “Uh oh, Brian is home.” And we were all instantly scared. We cowered in the top bunk together until all was quiet and then I climbed down the ladder and went to my bed. For most of my life, I thought we were scared because Brian was mean, because he had come home drunk and we thought we would be beaten. I think I assessed the situation this way based on what I learned of him growing up. Now that I have a toddler, I realize that we were probably scared because we knew we were doing something we were not supposed to be doing – we should have been sleeping!
My next memory actually includes my biological father. The details are hazy, but I was in his apartment. I can see the layout. I met his girlfriend, Lynn. She was tall and skinny and had long dark hair. I liked her. The same memory includes Rick dropping me off at my mom’s house on Louisiana Ave in Crystal. He was holding me. He had on a hat - brown leather. He had a mustache. I was happy.
Okay, not funny like Augusten Burroughs, but entertaining none the less. “Possible Side Effects” probably sold millions of copies. My book might not sell millions. But if one person learns from it, it would be worth all of the effort.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Shhhh…Don’t tell!
I ADORE my husband (WAY more than I should).
I do not have a college degree.
I am a Christian.
Some facts are better left as secrets.
I LOVE to play pool.
Seth David Fisher broke my heart in the 7th grade.
When my parents were out of town one weekend, I allowed some friends to borrow their motor home.
I was abandoned by my father at like 6 months old, and then rejected by him in my 20s.
I am a divorcee.
The constellations Orion and the Big Dipper remind me of significant events in my life.
I suffered from a miscarriage in January 2007.
I am hoping Brytin’s year in kindergarten will help me decide if I want to be a kindergarten teacher.
I think that I have a “chemical imbalance.”
I used to earn almost $25/hour.
My uncle lied to me one too many times.
I drink a LOT of coffee and barely any water.
I once ratted out a friend to save my own ass.
I do not WANT to quit smoking.
I slept with a married man (before I was married).
I am not at all confident.
I am a stay-at-home stepmother.
I feel as though I let a lot of people down in my short life.
My grandmother lives a few hours away from me, but I haven’t seen her in three years.
I miss Kristen Sue Stich.
I’ve been married in Vegas - twice.
I have more debts than four families should have.
I have never lived up to my potential.
I have a rage deep inside that no one has ever seen.
I am scared to death of inheriting rheumatoid arthritis.
I ride a motorcycle.
I hate only one person on this earth.
I used to snort a lot of crystal meth.
I swear too much.
I live in a manufactured home.
I had an abortion the summer before my sophomore year.
I long to be the wisest person you know.
I am really good friends with my husband’s ex-wife.
No one close to me has died (knock on wood).
I love to cook and knit and garden and read.
I wish I could do eighth grade all over again.
http://www.postsecret.com/
I do not have a college degree.
I am a Christian.
Some facts are better left as secrets.
I LOVE to play pool.
Seth David Fisher broke my heart in the 7th grade.
When my parents were out of town one weekend, I allowed some friends to borrow their motor home.
I was abandoned by my father at like 6 months old, and then rejected by him in my 20s.
I am a divorcee.
The constellations Orion and the Big Dipper remind me of significant events in my life.
I suffered from a miscarriage in January 2007.
I am hoping Brytin’s year in kindergarten will help me decide if I want to be a kindergarten teacher.
I think that I have a “chemical imbalance.”
I used to earn almost $25/hour.
My uncle lied to me one too many times.
I drink a LOT of coffee and barely any water.
I once ratted out a friend to save my own ass.
I do not WANT to quit smoking.
I slept with a married man (before I was married).
I am not at all confident.
I am a stay-at-home stepmother.
I feel as though I let a lot of people down in my short life.
My grandmother lives a few hours away from me, but I haven’t seen her in three years.
I miss Kristen Sue Stich.
I’ve been married in Vegas - twice.
I have more debts than four families should have.
I have never lived up to my potential.
I have a rage deep inside that no one has ever seen.
I am scared to death of inheriting rheumatoid arthritis.
I ride a motorcycle.
I hate only one person on this earth.
I used to snort a lot of crystal meth.
I swear too much.
I live in a manufactured home.
I had an abortion the summer before my sophomore year.
I long to be the wisest person you know.
I am really good friends with my husband’s ex-wife.
No one close to me has died (knock on wood).
I love to cook and knit and garden and read.
I wish I could do eighth grade all over again.
http://www.postsecret.com/
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
An old journal writing
I write about father/daughter stuff a lot. I do this in hopes that someone, somewhere will gain from my heartache. I hope that a father will realize the life-long impact his relationship has on his daughter. I hope that a daughter might realize that the relationship problems she is having stem from her relationship with her father. No other relationship has the far-reaching an effect. (i.e. A son who adores his mother is not necessarily a great husband. )
Fathers, intentionally or not, teach their daughters how to regard themselves, what kinds of relationships are healthy, what to look for in a partner, and what to expect of men in co-parenting relationships. Imagine what a girl with an absent father learns?
A girl always wants the love and approval from her daddy. If she never receives it, “it is difficult to develop a healthy relationship because you are working from a point of need instead of working out of a position of co-equal,” said Dr. Canfield. “There is a void in her life and the search to fill that void prompts her to take risks in relationships which usually result in some really poor choices.”
A pretty good article explaining some of the impacts of the father/daughter relationship:
http://www.yourpurelife.com/articles/father_daughter.php
And now for the old journal writing…In case you have ever wondered why my biological father is not in my life...This was written December 26, 2003. I was living in NE Mpls. I had stopped at my biological father’s house earlier that afternoon…
Just short of five years after meeting my father, I now know, without a doubt, that he does not want me in his life. And for the first time, I am okay with that painful truth.
On a whim, I stopped at my dad’s house today because I knew that not knowing his thoughts was eating me up inside. He was not home, but I had the un-pleasure of a face-to-face with his wife and eldest daughter (my sister, Mandy).
I have not spoken a word to anyone in that house since like September of 2001…I haven’t seen them since Father’s Day of 2001.
Today, they told me that they did not want me in their lives because I played a major role in ruining their family…that I “took advantage of Jessica’s weaker mental state and manipulated her into believing that the Galsters were not her family (nor the DeVitos).”
Mandy and Lynn believe that I tore their family apart. Even worse, they believe that I did it on purpose. They said that I had horrible motives from the get-go; that they were apprehensive about letting me into their lives because they did not want to give me the opportunity to screw up their family – and their worst fears came true. Apparently, they thought I was so miserable in my life with my mother, that I would stop at NOTHING to ruin my father’s life.
Seriously. They said that.
They said a lot of hurtful things to me, and despite my protests that their assumptions and interpretations were false, they really did not want to hear my side of the story.
Before I went to my dad’s I had asked Jess to pray for me. I think He answered our prayers in that He made it easy for me to walk away from St. Paul. They have harbored this negative image of me for YEARS and have no desire to hear the truth. Their “reality” is flat-out wrong, and nothing I can say or do will convince them otherwise.
I do wish that I had had someone with me…maybe even a tape recorder just so other people would know that THEY have chosen not to include me in their lives.
I think that shutting the door on this five-year chapter will really help me to focus on the future. Knowing and accepting that the Galsters do not know me and have no desire to know me really makes it easier to accept that they are not in my life.
There is so much to be said about our conversation today. So much that I want to record, but I just don’t know that it is important. I do not want bitterness to rule my life. I do not want to be angry and resentful, victimized and heartbroken. I do not want to spend my time rehashing – that’s what Mandy and Lynn do, and I can plainly see there is NO benefit to such activities. It’s hard on your skin, your bones, your heart, and your attitude. Resentment is especially hard on those around you.
I have spent a lot of time and energy trying to be a good person, and it is kind of screwing me mentally to see that so many have such negative opinions of me….why? AM I a bad person? Are all of my efforts fruitless? Do I really spread evil rather than goodness? At what point in my earthly life will I be confident that I am doing this right or at least to the best of my ability?
It’s weird to think that Mandy has been so very angry with me for over two years and has never told me. She never gave me a chance…I do not ever want to be like that.
I think that when people ask me about my dad, I’m just gonna say that he is in an insane asylum, because he is fucking nutty.
Fathers, intentionally or not, teach their daughters how to regard themselves, what kinds of relationships are healthy, what to look for in a partner, and what to expect of men in co-parenting relationships. Imagine what a girl with an absent father learns?
A girl always wants the love and approval from her daddy. If she never receives it, “it is difficult to develop a healthy relationship because you are working from a point of need instead of working out of a position of co-equal,” said Dr. Canfield. “There is a void in her life and the search to fill that void prompts her to take risks in relationships which usually result in some really poor choices.”
A pretty good article explaining some of the impacts of the father/daughter relationship:
http://www.yourpurelife.com/articles/father_daughter.php
And now for the old journal writing…In case you have ever wondered why my biological father is not in my life...This was written December 26, 2003. I was living in NE Mpls. I had stopped at my biological father’s house earlier that afternoon…
Just short of five years after meeting my father, I now know, without a doubt, that he does not want me in his life. And for the first time, I am okay with that painful truth.
On a whim, I stopped at my dad’s house today because I knew that not knowing his thoughts was eating me up inside. He was not home, but I had the un-pleasure of a face-to-face with his wife and eldest daughter (my sister, Mandy).
I have not spoken a word to anyone in that house since like September of 2001…I haven’t seen them since Father’s Day of 2001.
Today, they told me that they did not want me in their lives because I played a major role in ruining their family…that I “took advantage of Jessica’s weaker mental state and manipulated her into believing that the Galsters were not her family (nor the DeVitos).”
Mandy and Lynn believe that I tore their family apart. Even worse, they believe that I did it on purpose. They said that I had horrible motives from the get-go; that they were apprehensive about letting me into their lives because they did not want to give me the opportunity to screw up their family – and their worst fears came true. Apparently, they thought I was so miserable in my life with my mother, that I would stop at NOTHING to ruin my father’s life.
Seriously. They said that.
They said a lot of hurtful things to me, and despite my protests that their assumptions and interpretations were false, they really did not want to hear my side of the story.
Before I went to my dad’s I had asked Jess to pray for me. I think He answered our prayers in that He made it easy for me to walk away from St. Paul. They have harbored this negative image of me for YEARS and have no desire to hear the truth. Their “reality” is flat-out wrong, and nothing I can say or do will convince them otherwise.
I do wish that I had had someone with me…maybe even a tape recorder just so other people would know that THEY have chosen not to include me in their lives.
I think that shutting the door on this five-year chapter will really help me to focus on the future. Knowing and accepting that the Galsters do not know me and have no desire to know me really makes it easier to accept that they are not in my life.
There is so much to be said about our conversation today. So much that I want to record, but I just don’t know that it is important. I do not want bitterness to rule my life. I do not want to be angry and resentful, victimized and heartbroken. I do not want to spend my time rehashing – that’s what Mandy and Lynn do, and I can plainly see there is NO benefit to such activities. It’s hard on your skin, your bones, your heart, and your attitude. Resentment is especially hard on those around you.
I have spent a lot of time and energy trying to be a good person, and it is kind of screwing me mentally to see that so many have such negative opinions of me….why? AM I a bad person? Are all of my efforts fruitless? Do I really spread evil rather than goodness? At what point in my earthly life will I be confident that I am doing this right or at least to the best of my ability?
It’s weird to think that Mandy has been so very angry with me for over two years and has never told me. She never gave me a chance…I do not ever want to be like that.
I think that when people ask me about my dad, I’m just gonna say that he is in an insane asylum, because he is fucking nutty.
Speaking of old friends, here’s the (extremely) short and sweet
Since joining social networking sites and regaining contact with a lot of old friends, I have been asked numerous times, “What the hell happened to you? Where did you go?” To most people, I all but disappeared for most of my 20s. I had to. By the time I was 21, I was a MESS. Drinking, drugs, partying, sleeping around, wasting away...One day, my biological father, Rick, set me down at his kitchen table and said, "Look, if you keep travelling down this path, you are gonna end up exactly where you are going." And truthfully, it was everything I needed to hear.
Two days later, I met Andre. He was from the "other side of the tracks." He was handsome, rich, and safe. I wasn't head over heels crazy in love with the guy, but I needed to clean up and he was an excellent choice for a husband. My parents and all my friends knew that he wasn't the one for me, but I didn't have the guts to explain to them what I was doing, so I married him 8 months later...And then I met Jesus. I fell head-over-heels crazy mad in love with my Savior, and didn't know what to do about it. I ended up, basically, walking away from everyone I knew, everyone who knew me as someone else in order that I could get my head straight, get my life straight, figure out who in the hell I am, and what in the hell my purpose is in this world. I didn't figure it all out, but I did eventually get my head straight. I still love Jesus, I don't love Andre, and I can accept my life for exactly what it is.
My friend Jasmine shared this gem with me:
"You do what you know how to do, and when you know better, you do better." Maya Angelou
Two days later, I met Andre. He was from the "other side of the tracks." He was handsome, rich, and safe. I wasn't head over heels crazy in love with the guy, but I needed to clean up and he was an excellent choice for a husband. My parents and all my friends knew that he wasn't the one for me, but I didn't have the guts to explain to them what I was doing, so I married him 8 months later...And then I met Jesus. I fell head-over-heels crazy mad in love with my Savior, and didn't know what to do about it. I ended up, basically, walking away from everyone I knew, everyone who knew me as someone else in order that I could get my head straight, get my life straight, figure out who in the hell I am, and what in the hell my purpose is in this world. I didn't figure it all out, but I did eventually get my head straight. I still love Jesus, I don't love Andre, and I can accept my life for exactly what it is.
My friend Jasmine shared this gem with me:
"You do what you know how to do, and when you know better, you do better." Maya Angelou
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Saturday August 30, 2008
a girl needs her daddy
Current mood: exhausted
My biological father's name is Rick. Him and my mom got pregnant in high school. They married after getting pregnant a second time. My mom made a feeble attempt at saving her marriage by having me...Rick thought I was someone else's kid and walked out when I was six-months old...My sisters lived with my mom and me for a couple years until my mom cracked. She was twenty-three, divorced, and had three kids under five (the oldest was four, Jess was two and a half and i was one and a half). She dropped the girls off at their dads and never looked back.
When I was thirteen, I tried to contact my dad. I was having a difficult time with my mom and stepdad and thought that the answer was to at least learn about where I came from...Rick called my mom and told him that my sisters were not emotionally strong enough to deal with the chaos that would ensue if he spoke to me...
When I was fifteen, I tried again. We all met once. It was awkward. I had phone conversations with my stepmom for a few months, but eventually just gave up.
When I was twenty, I decided it was do or die. I was going nowhere, doing nothing and really needed some direction in my life. Rick had a college education, he had a great career, he had children in college and a successful marriage. I needed a role model like that, so I tried again. We tried for about three years to forge a relationship. It never worked.
Not that it isn't possible to have a relationship with a relative you didn't grow up with, it just wasn't possible for us. For a million reasons. The first being that my dad thinks I am "too much like my mother" whom he despises. The second being that my stepmother refuses to allow me into their perfect world lest the "devil's spawn" would fuck it all up.
It's been a difficult road for me.
A girl needs her daddy. I believe that now more than ever.
Thankfully, the Lord has helped fill the void left by the men that could have been great fathers to me.
Current mood: exhausted
My biological father's name is Rick. Him and my mom got pregnant in high school. They married after getting pregnant a second time. My mom made a feeble attempt at saving her marriage by having me...Rick thought I was someone else's kid and walked out when I was six-months old...My sisters lived with my mom and me for a couple years until my mom cracked. She was twenty-three, divorced, and had three kids under five (the oldest was four, Jess was two and a half and i was one and a half). She dropped the girls off at their dads and never looked back.
When I was thirteen, I tried to contact my dad. I was having a difficult time with my mom and stepdad and thought that the answer was to at least learn about where I came from...Rick called my mom and told him that my sisters were not emotionally strong enough to deal with the chaos that would ensue if he spoke to me...
When I was fifteen, I tried again. We all met once. It was awkward. I had phone conversations with my stepmom for a few months, but eventually just gave up.
When I was twenty, I decided it was do or die. I was going nowhere, doing nothing and really needed some direction in my life. Rick had a college education, he had a great career, he had children in college and a successful marriage. I needed a role model like that, so I tried again. We tried for about three years to forge a relationship. It never worked.
Not that it isn't possible to have a relationship with a relative you didn't grow up with, it just wasn't possible for us. For a million reasons. The first being that my dad thinks I am "too much like my mother" whom he despises. The second being that my stepmother refuses to allow me into their perfect world lest the "devil's spawn" would fuck it all up.
It's been a difficult road for me.
A girl needs her daddy. I believe that now more than ever.
Thankfully, the Lord has helped fill the void left by the men that could have been great fathers to me.
Saturday February 23, 2008
Nature vs. Nurture
Current mood:over it
Rick told Jess that for 7 years all he could think about in the silences of his world was "I need to bring my daughter home."
Jess asked him, "Did you ever once think that about Leslie?"
He matter-of-factly said, "No."
"Why? She's your daughter, too."
"Because she doesn't have the morals and values that you do."
And I cried. Not because there is a dillusional man and his family who are so wrong about me and don't care to correct their mindset. But because the man whom God chose to create me refuses to know me, to accept me and is so willing to believe the bad stuff, the lies.
I cry because the man whose blood runs through my veins is not a man who is worthy. I struggle with that today, because I've always given him the benefit of the doubt. Even last week, when Joe asked me "What kind of man is Rick?" I told him that to the best of knowledge, he is a stand-up guy. He has the best of intentions; he is just grossly misguided.
I dont know why, God, you have given me such a sunny disposition, such an infinite naivety. THREE times now this very week, my faith in people has been proven wrong. How am I so well-adjusted that I just let this stuff roll off my back? Seriously? Is it possible that I am just stuffing the emotion and will some day end up bitter? I don't think so. It is very easy for me to say, "Rick's loss," and accept the love of Mom, Brian, Jess, Joe, Chris, Amy, etc as more than enough to replace him. It's like you, God, My Heavenly Father, have filled the void created by that ridiculous man...
I cry because he is missing out. I cry because he is not living up to his God-given potential as a man, a father. I cry because, I am almost sure, You cry. He is a disappointment and I don't think You intended for him to be as such. I cry because it would seem as though Jesus is not in his heart...
And now I cry because I think of Brian...He did the best he could with what he had...And even though he's quite crazy and not always nice, he would never ever ever say that I am void of all moral character.
For many years, I was angry with him. Eventually, I got over it and accepted what the therapist said, "He did the best he could with what he had." And today, I feel as though I owe him a thank you, or an explanation, or credit...I'm assuming that from his perspective, he thinks I do not give him credit. He doesn't realize that I do, I have. Specifically, my thoughts are, "His methods were fucked up, but something he did was right, because I turned out to be an amazing woman. I love who I am, and I know Brian is a part of that."
I want him to know this. I want him to know I appreciate how much he adores my husband. It means so much to me that he was at our wedding.
I don't know if I have or ever will actually forgive him for the shit he has done, but the truth is, I have forgotten.
Lord, I thank you for all the beautiful people in my life today.
Current mood:over it
Rick told Jess that for 7 years all he could think about in the silences of his world was "I need to bring my daughter home."
Jess asked him, "Did you ever once think that about Leslie?"
He matter-of-factly said, "No."
"Why? She's your daughter, too."
"Because she doesn't have the morals and values that you do."
And I cried. Not because there is a dillusional man and his family who are so wrong about me and don't care to correct their mindset. But because the man whom God chose to create me refuses to know me, to accept me and is so willing to believe the bad stuff, the lies.
I cry because the man whose blood runs through my veins is not a man who is worthy. I struggle with that today, because I've always given him the benefit of the doubt. Even last week, when Joe asked me "What kind of man is Rick?" I told him that to the best of knowledge, he is a stand-up guy. He has the best of intentions; he is just grossly misguided.
I dont know why, God, you have given me such a sunny disposition, such an infinite naivety. THREE times now this very week, my faith in people has been proven wrong. How am I so well-adjusted that I just let this stuff roll off my back? Seriously? Is it possible that I am just stuffing the emotion and will some day end up bitter? I don't think so. It is very easy for me to say, "Rick's loss," and accept the love of Mom, Brian, Jess, Joe, Chris, Amy, etc as more than enough to replace him. It's like you, God, My Heavenly Father, have filled the void created by that ridiculous man...
I cry because he is missing out. I cry because he is not living up to his God-given potential as a man, a father. I cry because, I am almost sure, You cry. He is a disappointment and I don't think You intended for him to be as such. I cry because it would seem as though Jesus is not in his heart...
And now I cry because I think of Brian...He did the best he could with what he had...And even though he's quite crazy and not always nice, he would never ever ever say that I am void of all moral character.
For many years, I was angry with him. Eventually, I got over it and accepted what the therapist said, "He did the best he could with what he had." And today, I feel as though I owe him a thank you, or an explanation, or credit...I'm assuming that from his perspective, he thinks I do not give him credit. He doesn't realize that I do, I have. Specifically, my thoughts are, "His methods were fucked up, but something he did was right, because I turned out to be an amazing woman. I love who I am, and I know Brian is a part of that."
I want him to know this. I want him to know I appreciate how much he adores my husband. It means so much to me that he was at our wedding.
I don't know if I have or ever will actually forgive him for the shit he has done, but the truth is, I have forgotten.
Lord, I thank you for all the beautiful people in my life today.
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