I’m a useless blogger on the good times, which is why it’s actually not a bad thing that I haven’t blogged in months.
Pills can help, perhaps they are best for allowing you the brain space to actually analyze the world and the way you interact with it in a rational way. Getting that time to assess what lifts you up, what makes you happy and helps you focus on those things. But I also believe it allows you to consider what triggers you and the importance of working through that.
My family life is good, but not perfect. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly blessed. I’ve grown up wanting for nothing, in a nice house in a good neighborhood. I haven’t had everything bought for me, I’ve had to learn to save up for things and value money and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
But, no duh Hayley, money and security aren’t what defines a persons life.
The truth is, my relationship with my father has never been right. My parents had to use a sperm donor to conceive, but I’m not convinced the problems started after they told me he wasn’t biologically related to me. My family, particularly my paternal grandmother often tell me he was smitten with me as a child. That he’d come home from work and spend the rest of the evening with me. I remember him reading us books, and making stupid dad jokes and embarrassing us. But I have never been ‘daddy’s little girl’ – I don’t ever recall feeling like he was my protector, my role model or my guide as to what I should be looking for in men. In fact, I’ve actively tried to find men who are not like him. Frustratingly, Leo is far more like him than I would like.
He said that he was proud of me, about 2 months ago. It was the most fatherly thing I think I’ve heard him say… Possibly ever. But even when he has tried to be ‘fatherly’, it all feels a bit too little, too late.
I don’t believe that a father should swear at his child, but that seems to be a regular occurrence when we argue. In the past, just a few harsh words and his anger would have been enough to send me into meltdown. Running into my room to hide under the covers, feeling like I would rather be anywhere. Maybe even dead.
Perhaps my biggest secret, is that I don’t think I want him to walk me down the aisle, if that ever happens. It would feel so fake, so fraudulent. My life, all safe and secure, is really such a mess that I’m not sure which way is up and which way’s down.
Tonight, another little tiff. Swearing. But I didn’t go into meltdown. But I know I could have. There’s so much there that I know needs to be worked on, but do I even want to?
I guess the point is, something’s gotta give. Either I let this always be a trigger, or I make a change. Either I get the issue fixed, or at the very least I learn to stop it eating my brain away when it happens.