The Judgements From Others Is Not True

I think that most people have some sort of judgment of some kind or another. You see someone do or say something that you think is inappropriate and your first response a lot of the time is judgment. Like for example, a way someone is dressed. Maybe it’s a women on the bus who is wearing too revealing clothing or someone who is big wearing too tight clothing. This week I read about a broadway actress who was judged by the costume she was wearing. The woman who wrote the review was judging the actress on her appearance, comparing her to other women on stage who weren’t big. The review (NYT) used words like bigger and described appropriate attire for a fat person as that. Even after this woman was called out for her behavior she had no clue that she was judging the actress. That’s a problem so many have been brainwashed to judging others that they don’t realize they are doing it or they do but they don’t care.

Just like hate, judgment is a learned trait. I grew up in a family who had mastered the art of judgment. Anytime I tell people I grew up in a Southern Baptist family most people gasp. It’s common knowledge that judgment is a key fundamental in that religion, as is fire and brimstone. God is the ultimate judge and all his followers are bailiffs, or even executioners in many cases. I think judgment comes from fear. Those who are fanatical in their beliefs are comforted when they pass judgment on anything that doesn’t fit into their norms. Some use God and religion as a way to come to terms with life. Rather than floating into outer space they anchor themselves to an ideology. Now I’m not saying that’s wrong, it’s only when you try to force others to fit into your box that’s when it becomes a problem. A lot of people use judgment as an excuse to belittle someone else. If anyone tries to live their life outside of their strict rules then they must do whatever they can to silence them because letting it go will crack their fragile bubble.

It’s when judgment is turned into a form of brainwashing that it becomes very problematic and a lifelong battle of getting away from the trauma that’s caused. Most people think it’s as simple as letting go of the past and I wish that were true. When the judgment turns into poison it’s hardwired into your brain. If you don’t deal with the trauma then it’s covered up and you become injured anytime a future judgment happens. Most the times you don’t have a clue that the feelings that surface from a current judgment has nothing to do with said act, it’s what it triggers from the old judgments. Endure enough judgments like that they it just reinforces the personalization until the judgment is internalized.

I’m struggling to deal with the heart of my trauma, the judgments from my father and family. These judgments were so intense that I took them on as my own and built a world around them. So it’s only natural the next twenty years would be a total shit show. There is no amount of trash that can be piled on top of something so deep, raw and dark to hide it. Doing so just creates a monster that will control you for as long as you let it. Now I have taken control of myself again. Which means I must deal with this trauma like it’s the first time it’s happening to me. I honestly feel like crap. It’s a sickness with no medicine to cure it. You just must suffer through.

So what did I learn from my father, many years ago:

He told me that I was going to hell (over and over) so that meant that I’m not worthy of an afterlife, nor do I deserve to see the people I love again like my Mom and sister. If God is going to let me burn for an eternity for doing nothing that must mean that inside I’m bad. God became the judge, jury and executioner. That is not true.

I was told that I was going to get AIDS (from being gay) and that I would die alone in the hospital. That the friends I had made from coming out would abandon me at the end. That meant I deserve to suffer and be in pain. I’m unlovable and not worthy of healthy relationships where I’m valued and supported. Unworthy of friendships that are unconditional and there for me when I need them the most. That is not true.

I also was told that apart of having AIDS that I would finally lose weight, like I had always wanted. That meant that I was a fat slob. That the only way to cope with the pain was to numb it out with food. I didn’t deserve a healthy body with boundaries and limitations. Moderation. I wasn’t worthy of taking care of myself. That is not true.

My father told me that I needed to forgive and forget the sexual abuse that my cousin did to me. This was said to me the day after I came out about the abuse, after he found out that I was upset that he went hunting with my cousin. This confirmed to me that my father didn’t love me, nor was I worthy of his care, love and affection. That my father would rather to have the person who caused me great harm to be his son. I wasn’t good enough. I was too fat, too fem and not worthy of having a loving father. This was the father I deserved. In my mind, I had no way to rationalize someone treating me this way when I hadn’t done anything wrong. So that meant that inside I was missing something. That I was the one at fault. I wasn’t good enough. Unlovable. Laughable. A hideous monster. That is not true.

Honestly I could go on and on with all the things that my father did and said to me. I could write a book. The fact of the matter is that none of these things are true. My father is the biggest liar there is. My brain knows this but my heart is still holding onto these untruths. It’s why I struggle so much when I am triggered. While I have worked hard the last year there are still parts of me who believe him. Thankfully the healthy parts of me are stronger than the pain and hurt. I’m not going to lie it hurts like hell. It physically is draining and feels like the worst flu you can imagine. I have to fight off the voices telling me that I’m hideous and worthless. They are trying to drag me under and I refuse to let them.

I just can’t wait for the day that these voices and untruths no longer have any strength or pull. I don’t want these judgments anymore. People in my life want me to just to move on from the past yet they are the ones that keep bringing it up. I want to be free and it feels like I will never away from this trauma.

I wish people could see the level of pain that I feel, then maybe they might treat me differently. I constantly feel like I have to validate the pain, what others have done to me. I shouldn’t have to explain the pain from someone else. The only thing that I do need reinforced is my value and worth. I just took a shower (I didn’t want to) and I kept having to repeat to myself that I was worthy. So I just need to keep practicing self love, especially when I don’t want to do anything. That’s the part of depression that is tough. Everything becomes an uphill battle. You’re already held down by the pain and then you have to carry it up Mount Everest. So you have everything fighting against you.

This week has been very tough. I feel like I’m playing a game of tug and war. I’m tired of having mud slung at me. I have too much to live for to be wallering in the mud but in order for me to move on I must endure this trauma one last time. I must correct the mistakes and properly heal, one wound at a time.

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If You Can’t Handle My Struggles, You Don’t Get to Experience my Happiness

If you haven’t been through some sort of trauma or loss it might be hard to imagine what it’s like to be triggered and instantly flashback to that time and place where the pain is at. It cuts deep, right to the core. You lose all sense of reality and are in your own horror story. That’s what it’s like to live with triggers when you have PTSD. Often times the trigger is small and insignificant but other times they are a roar. It’s especially difficult when it comes from another person, one you love. Yesterday was one of those days.

My grandmother probably had no intention of triggering me. She is 92 years old and can’t help it. She’s looking through life with different goggles on. While she’s been through her own struggles and trauma she’s not gone through mine. No one really knows what it’s like to deal with grief, loss and trauma. Each pain is unique and each person just as different at the next.

I love my grandmother with all my heart. I haven’t always made attempts to see her. My mental illness has gotten in my way so many times and my relationships have severely been impacted. In my mind, I have believed I didn’t deserve love. So of course I shut away anyone who tried to love me. Isolation is a game that depression plays on you. You will never win no matter what kind of hand you have. You can have a hand of all aces and still lose in the end.

I have made attempts to be in her life. I get the sense that no matter what certain people in my life will always only see me as who I use to be. They talk to me about moving on from the past but they’re not including themselves and how they see me. It’s taken me 42 years and all my adult life to get to this point where I’m finally embracing the real me. I’m finally healing from all those old wounds. Moving on from the past isn’t something that can be forced, nor is there a time table that others expect you to move forward. When you endure decades of living in the past it’s a tough task to overcome. For me, it took being miserable long enough to start fighting back.

I’m the strongest I have ever been that means dealing with a lot of past trauma. The deepest darkest sorrows. Darkness as pitch black as a night without stars or a moon. The only thing that remains is the pain and rejection. You’ve ripped off the bandaid and you must experience it for the first time in your new healthy state. It hurts like hell and shakes you to the core. I don’t have the luxury of hiding anymore though I try with all my might to do so. No amount of Pepsi or junk food will drown out these tearful cries for help. I must endure them if I’m to move on.

Yesterday was one of those days. I was so happy to get a call from my grandmother, asking me to lunch. She was a comfortable stranger and I was so content to see her again. I have missed so much time with her and others, and now time is ticking against me but the sad reality is you can’t force things. You can try all you want but sometimes people can’t move past from your past deeds. Maybe they think it’s just a rouse.

My grandmother knows what my father did to me and for a time she tried to push a relationship onto me. The typical well he’s your father and you must respect him. Then after years of that she stopped. I thought finally she realized the seriousness of what he did to me. Finally she believed me and validated the pain. For many years she didn’t say a word about it. She would occasionally mention him but it wasn’t anything about me. I would just nod and agree, waiting for the next topic to talk about. I got good at changing the subject.

I’m sure her aging has caused her to go back to the old ways. I’m also sure that she’s had a change of heart due to her own ticking clock. She just wants to see her son and grandchild finally get along. I want that same relationship but it will never happen, at least not in the way I need it too. You can’t make someone love you. I learned that a long time ago. Since my Mom died I have had moments of my own changes of heart but those quickly faded at the realization that nothing has changed with him. He’s still the same person who hurt me so many years ago. He’s still just as fanatical with God.

If I’m to ever make a go at life I have to keep our worlds separate. I use to hate him. That almost destroyed me. I no longer hate anyone who caused great harm to me. People that were suppose to love and protect me but didn’t. I use to take the blame but it never was my fault. While I’m awake now that doesn’t mean that I’m gullible. I’m strong enough to realize that I’m the one that’s changed.

I use to think I was deserving of his pain and rejection. That was my purpose in life. Deep inside I was unlovable. That was the biggest lie of them all and I no longer believe that. He’s not worthy of my tears, nor my happiness and joy. I have earned this peace of mind. I have wasted so much time in pain and suffering, that I refuse to put it at risk. This is my time, my life. I can do whatever I want to. I have spent enough time in my shoes that I know what works and what doesn’t. People might have the best intentions of giving you input and advice as to how you should lead your life but usually it has nothing to do with them. I find it interesting that people who have made NO attempt in helping you heal show up at the end with all their opinions about your life. Those who act like they are concerned for you but are just really judging you.

If people really were concerned for you they would take action with you personally. They would help you find a therapist, maybe even offer to take you. Instead they talk about you to others who know you. All the shoulds and shouldn’ts. The woulda, coulda and shoulda.

I got to this point today, all on my own. I had no one to talk to, other than my therapist. I had no numbers to call in the middle of the night when I felt like I was doing. I did it by myself. I use to think that as a weakness but now I realize it’s strength. I’m the strongest person there is, well one of them.

Many hurtful words were transmitted yesterday and unfortunately some seeped in but not enough to stop the progress I’m making. My heart is guarded now by a secret garden. Now that doesn’t mean that I’m not suffering today because I am but I now realize that this pain will pass. I just must endure it, let the poison run out of my wounds. That is the only way to heal. You can’t stuff the wound expecting it to heal, it will only become infected with disease. So when you finally unearth that wound you must clean it and leave it open to heal. That’s when the real hard work begins.

I’m not going to lie, there is a part of me that wants to do but it’s faint and I’m stronger. So much stronger. I must let go of the need for validation of my pain from other people, especially the ones closet to me. It will never happen. That was clear to me yesterday. As I sit across from her I started to float away as she continued to lecture me on respecting my father and letting go of the past. I had checked out but I was still feeling the pain seep out. I tried to justify the pain with examples and it wasn’t good enough to warrant not having a relationship with him. Well that was wrong but that was the past. She even acknowledged that he hadn’t changed. That his views were just as radical as before. I couldn’t understand why she was doing this. I even told her that wasn’t why I wanted to see her. Finally after she started to see that I was upset and stopped. She apologized a couple of times but the wound was sliced open. She dropped me off, at my new place, and I was left stunned and unsure what happened.

All my life I have had people tell me to move on from the past. Which usually meant keeping my mouth shut and pretending like nothing happened. When you silence a violent act you silence the victim. I won’t be silenced anymore.

I tried to defend myself, falling into my old patterns. I knew that certain people judged me for being so open about my struggles both on my blog and on Facebook. I’m empathic enough to feel things deeply. The silence says everything. I told her the things he said like I was going to die of AIDS and be alone in the hospital. It didn’t matter. Her need to fix things were a priority over my pain and suffering. I don’t blame her. Nor am I upset with her. I’m hurt, deeply but I will be okay. I know who I am finally and working on myself. I don’t need to be fixed. I just need to heal, allowed to flourish into the beautiful flower that I am inside.

I finally know my impact, even though my grandmother doesn’t. She made it clear how my Aunts felt about my airing my dirty laundry in a public forum. She even said they didn’t approve of me talking about my father either. I tried to convince her that people did find me inspirational and she stopped me, saying that no they didn’t. It was like she was yelling at me. It shook me to the core. She might not see my impact but I do. I understand that my message isn’t for everyone. There are those who will judge me and that’s their right. There are many out there who need to hear my voice. I hope that I’m their lighthouse leading them to shore like so many were for me, like my nieces and nephew. I know what it’s like to feel so alone and no one should have to endure this but they do.

Our pain, trauma and experiences aren’t dirty. Keeping the bottled up is what makes them dirty. There are others who will try with all their might to keep your pandora’s box closed. Don’t let them. Fight with all your might. Speak your truth no matter how loud the no’s are. Your voice is one of the greatest parts about you. The shame of others is not yours to take on. We don’t owe anyone anything.

So I’m going to live life the way I want to. It’s my choice to have a relationship with my father and I chose not to be apart of his toxicity. I love myself too much to endure the pain any longer. I will endure this pain one last time and then I will move on. Which means that I will have to suffer through this week. I will have to fight the needs to overeat. To numb out the pain. It’s already started and I’m struggling to fight but I am. I just have to get through these few days. I realize now that the storm always pass. I no longer will be swept under by other people’s floods. So while I might be eating junk food and drinking Pepsi like crazy I know that tomorrow is another day and I will get back on track. This trigger is just temporary. I will suffer for only a short time and I will push through. I don’t want to leave my apartment today but I’m going to anyways. I don’t want to brush my teeth but I will. I didn’t want to put the meat I bought last week in the freezer but I did. I didn’t want to write this post but I did. I didn’t want to call my grandmother today but I did.

I’ve learned that recovery is about pushing myself out of the discomfort. Do the things my mind tells me not to. Depression is a liar. While the diagnose and disease is real but I refuse to let it hold me down any longer. I will use my struggles and pain to help others. To spread awarenesses about the things that matter to me most like mental health and the homeless. Those with mental illness are some of the strongest people out there and so much stronger than those who try to deny it’s existence. If you beat homelessness you are the definition of strength. Those in my family couldn’t bear an ounce of that struggle. They live in luxurious, glass houses and have never had to endure the pain and struggles that I have. I use to want to be in their houses but I now realize it’s just a mirage. So I’m going to make my own home and fill it with the people who love and accept me for who I am. If you can’t handle me when I struggle, then you don’t get to experience me when I shine. Sure you can get a ticket but you will only be afford for the nose bleed seats.

How To Stop Taking Things So Personal?

That’s the question I’m asking. I think the only logical answer is repetition. As a former people pleaser (well I’m working on it) this task can be extremely difficult to overcome. When you’ve built your world around it overcoming it just takes time. Tonight I found myself in a similar situation, where I was starting to take something personal. Boundaries are really important for a sexual abuse survivor and sometimes when you put them up not everyone will respect them. Especially if there a person who doesn’t have any or few boundaries. So when you face someone like that it can be a fight or flight situation. Most the times for me it’s been a flight situation. I hide in the rabbit hole where it’s safe and I wait for that person to leave.

Lately I’ve been doing the opposite. The person I use to be would not only take it personal but take it period. Those days are over. If someone treats me poorly I’m going to stand up and say something. No is a powerful word to a survivor and sometimes you have to continue to use it until the person gets the hint. After a situation put me through that I started to feel bad. Like why did this person treat me this way? Before it was what did I do wrong. Quickly I changed my thought from I’m worthless to I’m strong as steel. Even after you’ve confronted the situation the personalization can still seep in. If will find the smallest of crack and find it’s way into your brain.

If it finds the way in it will light up all the other wires in your brain that relate to that. Every single hurt, every single word it will stir up. So you not only have to fight the current battle but all the battles before it. I’m stronger than ever and I refuse to give into that beast. I won’t let it take me down that road anymore. I deserve more.

I don’t deal with confrontation and I never have. I stay as far away from it as possible. If you’ve been victimized enough it becomes a way to keep stay safe. You learn to surround yourself with people like you. I think that’s only natural. Sure some people will argue that people need to venture out into other circles where people have different viewpoints but for someone struggling just to stay alive you do what you need to do to survive. I’ve lived many years living in an environment where it was brainwashed into my brain that I was different and I was ostracized for my views and beliefs. I was an outcast and you go where all the other misfits go. Maybe one day I can surround myself with other kind of people but today I need to do whatever I can to survive. Peace is very important to me and so is stability.

I’ve surrounded myself with bad people most of my life and I’m working on changing that. I can’t play fast and loose with my life anymore. I can’t take any chances in terms of my healing. I have too much to lose. Plus I really don’t want to be around people who don’t care about the things I do. Like for example, republican gun loving extremists. I’m a hardcore liberal but even I don’t constantly post political stuff. Why would I want to be friends with someone who was constantly feeling the need to boast his views and his way of life.

I’ve finally got to the point in my life where I can accept differences and not feel the need to convince others of mine. I’ve been at the end of that with my Father and his religious beliefs. I don’t want to be like that person nor do I want to have someone like that in my life, at least full time. I guess for me it’s your approach. There’s a neighbor lady of mine who loves Trump and one day she was going on and on about him but she wasn’t trying to get us to love him… nor was she trying to convince us that she was right and we were wrong. Though no one was really engaging her. I know I certainly wasn’t. I’ve done the whole debate thing and the only thing you get from them are headaches.

The person I use to be would  have totally written her off. She’s just like my family. I now see her for the person she is underneath. Now if she starts to disrespect my boundaries that’s a different story. She’s always been so nice to me and I enjoy having her in my life in that way. Now will we become best friends, probably not but it’s nice see her out with the other neighbors.

You get to a point in your life where you want peace and you do whatever you can to keep that. Some people won’t understand that and love to argue but they’re not me. They haven’t lived my life. I’ve had to cut certain people out of my life and I don’t think there’s nothing wrong with that. I think it can be quite healthy to weed out toxic people.

It’s a fine line of balance. I can see why people feel so passionate about the matters that affect our lives. It’s not always been easy for me to separate the beliefs from the person. Like for example, a person who loves Trump. Here they are willing to vote in a President that will most likely take away my rights, that being marriage equality. How do you go about being okay with that? Many of my family are like that. Not only do they support Trump but they don’t believe gay people should have any rights. Why should I have to sift through the dirt to find out if a person is homophobic? Sometimes it’s easier to not put myself in the same room as that person. It’s like a gay person going into a straight sports bar. I wouldn’t feel comfortable going into one not because I don’t like sports because I know it could put me in harms way or at the very least I would feel like I couldn’t be myself or would watch how I acted. No one should ever have to hide who they are out of fear but that’s the reality we live in.

While I enjoy this neighbor and love seeing her, in the back of my head I wonder about the other stuff. Usually most of Trump supporters have something in common with each other. I mean Trump is pretty anti on a lot of different matters. Rejection is no fun and part of the reason I look for others like me. You learn to gravitate towards people with the same way of living life. Maybe one day I will be strong enough that I will be able to be good friends with a Republican but I’m not promising anything. Everyone has their right to believe in what they want to but it’s when you’re beliefs start to infringe on my rights that’s when it’s a different story. It’s also why sometimes I struggle to separate the two.

Sure my first thought was to try to get her to see why Trump is bad but I realized there was going to be nothing I could say to make her see things differently. It would just be wasted energy. So I just sit back and let her go on and on about him. It’s tough to live in a world where people are so blinded by their fears and discomfort that they’ll put others lives in jeopardy. It goes deeper than taking things personal. Though I do have the foresight now to realize that these people are the ones with the issues, not me.

My Aunt and Father are very much like this. You should see their facebook page. It’s anti-Hillary this, anti-dems this… and not just them but gays as well. They don’t even see how much hate they’re spewing, it’s rather toxic. I look at people like that and I just feel bad for them. They’re so radical in their beliefs that they cause harm to other people and are proud to do it. My Aunt is so blinded by her faith and discomfort she doesn’t realize who she is hurting and people like her are very willing to vote our rights away. They can’t see outside of their tunnel vision. The sad reality there are millions of people like that in this country and I think that’s why Trump scares so many of us. He just doesn’t care about other people and people just love that about him. You can take the whole not caring what people think too far, to the point it turns into narcissism.

I still struggle with letting go of the personalizations, especially with my family. My Aunt is nice to my face but then is posting all this hurtful stuff. How does one not get hurt by that? That’s why I just stay away from people like that. It’s not that I don’t agree with her beliefs, which I do, but that she’s so willing to vote away my rights. Marriage equality gives so many LGBTQ people so many rights and it boils down to safety and security. Taking away the right to marry will harm other gay people. Yet people like my Aunt don’t see it this way. They’re so insecure about their faith that they have to prove to the world their way is the only way and they’ll vote for things that prove just that. I love my Aunt and I know underneath she’s a good person but I can’t have that in my life. It’s too painful. So I stay away. It’s just better that way.

I’ve come a long ways and I have further to grow. One day at a time. That’s it for now. Thanks for reading! Huggs

Coat of Many Colors

Watching Dolly’s movie about her life called Coat of Many colors reminded me of many things. There was a line in the movie that hit me most and it was Dolly saying that growing up was not only some of her hardest times but best times as well. I wish I remembered the quote exactly, as it was more eloquent.

I have to agree. I can look back at my life and see all the wonderful things. There was a time that all I could see was the bad. Like little Dolly when she lost her soon to be brother to heaven, my heart hasn’t sung in a very long time. I’ve been angry at God… angry at Mama. I’ve tried to do it alone because I didn’t want to hurt anymore but that doesn’t work either. God is like love, without it the world becomes a very dark place.

I was raised in a very similar background as Dolly. My family was quite religious, Southern Baptist as a matter of fact. Many of my Sundays were spent in a similar church as shown in the movie. I don’t remember the fire and brimstone but I do remember all the singing. For a moment I was transported to my Mama and grandmother singing. I’ve tucked away my spirituality because of the fire and brimstone not realizing I was giving up the singing.

I think the moral of the movie and the testament of Dolly’s life is letting your heart sing. I can’t remember the last time those melodies plucked at my heart strings. My heart stopped singing long before Mama died.

While my childhood wasn’t quite like Dolly’s in regards to be poor we certainly didn’t have it easy. While I was watching Dolly’s Mother portrayed in the movie it was like my Mom was on the screen. My Mom did what she had to do to provide for us including making crafts for extra money to get my sister and I the things we needed.

My Mama did grow up in a family much like Dolly’s as they were very poor. To help the family my Mom had to work in the muck fields which meant picking onions in the sweltering summer sun. When kids were out playing she was out in the muck. The house she grew up in was the size of a small apartment with an outhouse for a bathroom. There were nine children in the family as well. So it was a full house.

I don’t know when but my Mom also stopped singing as well. We were both very codependent. She grew up with a father who was an alcoholic. From a very early age she learned how to walk on eggshells and was groomed to expect it out of life. Her adult life only mirrored that just like mine has.

When you grow up in dysfunctional family you learn how to survive, not to live. Chaos becomes the norm and it transforms you into an altered being. One where you tolerate other bad situations because you feel that’s what you deserved.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cycled through these moments where I’ve questioned what will happen next… as in when the ground will fall apart underneath my feet. So many times it’d fill up a book.

I’ve been beat down before but I’ve always gotten my voice back within a considerable time. While I’m further from that bad place (where I tried to kill myself two years ago) my voice is still soft. I don’t know how to get it back. It’s the exact feeling when I was being abused. I wanted to yell but nothing came out.

It’s been three years since my Mom has died. What keeps me from singing??? My therapist recently asked me if my father was a wise man. At first I thought why the heck she was asking me but after a few moments I said no… that he was foolish. She then asks me what I believed such an idiot and to which I replied I don’t know…

Ever since I’ve been scratching my head wondering why all these years I’ve listened to foolish people. I’ve let them keep me from singing for far too long. I’m just not sure how to create the life I deserve.

I’ve built a world around all the wrong things. Life (a happy one) seems so far away. No matter what I refuse to give in to the hopelessness. At times those voices are so loud they’re painful but I’m just angry enough to say fuck it. The good thing about getting kicked to the ground, you can’t go any further.

I would just like to use all that junk (the bad feelings, people not believing in me, the pain, the grief, abuse) as fuel to fight. To just say fuck it to the world and push through. Up until this point it’s dragged me down.

There is great resiliency in taking a stand and saying you’re fed up. No one has control over me but me. I don’t know how or when but I will move forward from it all.

So I’m going to put back on my coat of many colors as I’ve earned it. I’m going to hold onto my songbook and wait for the day I have something to sing about again. The notes are still there deep inside of me. I just have to discover them and I will…

 

Father Figure

My relationship with my father has been estranged for as long as I can remember. For many years I didn’t want anything to do with him because he was just too toxic. I couldn’t handle the risk of rejection so I set a healthy boundary, more like a impenetrable wall. Not only has he caused a lot of harm to me but my sister and Mom as well. The last ten years of my Mom’s life was extremely difficult because of him. He left her with no money or a place to live. My Mom also lost her insurance.

If she hadn’t had her insurance taken away the Doctors might had found the Cancer sooner. Instead she couldn’t afford to go to the doctor. It’s impossible to look at him and not feel all of that which make me angry. I didn’t realize until recently how much anger I had hidden. I mean I knew I didn’t care for him but I didn’t know how the damaging that hatred was for my soul. I held onto the anger because it was easier than dealing with the hurt. The only way I knew how to cope with the loss was to fuel it into anger.

While I’m not as angry as I was before it’s still difficult at times to see him and not see the hurt. I recently ran into him during a family function and it felt so awkward and strange. It didn’t look like he was going to attend my Uncle’s birthday party and I was okay with that but at the last minute he showed up with his new wife. I refuse to call her stepmom. She’s more like the evil stepmother in Cinderella with her two wicked daughters. Yeah, I still have some anger in there… lol

When my Mom died three years ago it felt like I was an orphan. It’s a horrible feeling to feel that way with a parent still alive. It wasn’t until recently that I had started to think about having him in my life again but how do you trust someone who has caused you a lot of pain???

I’m still not at a point in my life where I can deal with the rejection. I know that if we had a relationship again it would be on his terms. It would be different if he had made an effort to be in my life and he hasn’t. At this family function I heard him talking about his new family and it still stung.

Five years ago he apologized for his approach to religion. These were the words I had wanted to hear for a very long time and when I finally heard them they didn’t mean a thing to me. They were just words. It didn’t make me feel any better. To give you an idea of how he approached anyone who he felt needed saving it would usually be all fire and brimstone. He told me so many times that I was going to hell that I believed him. I would have end of the world nightmares of Jesus calling people’s names of who was going to heaven and my name was never called. There was a time that the thought of God or even Jesus would set me into a panic. So I dealt with the only way I knew how and it was stop believing in anything.

The father I want and need just doesn’t exist. That hurts deeply. I feel robbed. I see fathers with their children and I think to myself why couldn’t I have had that. For too long I took it personal, a reflection of who I was. If my father didn’t love me (or didn’t know how) it must mean that I’m unloveable. I grew up believing that. My relationship with God has been very much the same way. I didn’t feel I was worthy of his/her love. I need to learn to separate the two but that’s difficult.

I’ve had over thirty years of believing that I was unloveable to the point where it’s been hard wired into my consciousness. I’ve come a long way from where I once was. I still struggle with my self worth but I now know that I deserve better. It’s difficult when the people who are suppose to love, protect and support you don’t. It’s very easy to take it personal. That’s my greatest flaw. I take everything personal and it’s something I’m working on.

I just have to learn to separate my feelings from these relationships and realize that it’s all on them… not me. It hurts and it sucks royally but it’s something I’ve had to accept. Some people just don’t have the capacity to give you what you need or deserve. I’m sure in some way my father loves me. I’m almost forty years old and I still feel like I’m that little boy who wants his dad to do the things fathers usually do.

In the end, he’s missed out on a lot of wonderful moments and a great person. He’s the one missing out. I’m done waiting. I’m done trying to make someone love me. It’s just not possible. If I’m to have a relationship with him it will always be conditional and it’s something I just have to accept. It’s sad to say but I’m at the point in my life where I will take whatever I can get.

I will never have the relationship with him that I need and that’s not my fault at all. I also can’t forget all he’s done. I can and will let go of all the anger because it doesn’t do me any good. It just poisons me.

 

Happy Birthday to my baby Sister

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You’re the best sister that any brother could ask for. You’ve always been there for me no matter what. You have a heart of gold, just like Mama. I hope you know how much I love you and how blessed I am to have you as my sister. You are such a giving person, so selfless. They’re not many people like you in this world. I hope you realize that. You’re a true gem, beautiful and pure. You’re strength is boundless and so is your love. Not to mention what a wonderful Mother you are to those three beautiful angels. You’re just like Mama in so many ways and that’s one of them.

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We’ve been through a lot together. Lots of ups and downs. I’m thankful to have you by my side. I look back on many fond memories like playing in the corn crib that Mom made into a home to fixing up the creek down the street. As well as playing McDonalds from the bathroom window with BJ, and playing the game as well. I can’t remember if it was McDs or BK? You were more than my sister, you are my friend. It’s nice to be able to look back to our childhoods and see the good memories like free-falling from the top of the bunk bed with Christina Freeman to the many vacations up north. These memories are gems to me and I hold them dear to my heart. We were the three musketeers.

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You’ve blossomed into such a warrior queen and I’m so proud to call you my sister. I hope you have a very special birthday. Thank you for everything you do. I love you with all my heart. I hope you day is just as fabulous as you are. You will always be my baby sister.

Love and Huggs,

Derek

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