One of the hardest parts of processing my childhood trauma has been hurting the people in my family who don’t fully understand what I went through, the ones who refuse to acknowledge the things I endured and the ones who fully believe that I am speaking out to help others for attention to feed some kind of ego trip.
The truth is, the ones who don’t understand what I went thorugh- don’t want to understand what I went through. And that’s okay with me.
The ones who refuse to acknowledge what I endured on their watch, aren’t ready, willing, or able to acknowledge that those things occurred on their watch. And that’s okay with me.
And the ones who believe in their mind that I have written blogs, books, and tweets, sharing my experiences to shine a bright light on myself for selfish reasons? There really isn’t anything to say about them, except that they choose to believe what makes them feel most comfortable. And that’s okay with me, too.
I can’t tell you how many years I cried at night. How many years I wasted time wondering why I wasn’t good enough to be in with the “it” crowd that is my family. Why wasn’t I good enough? When will I rise up to the level that is acceptable to be worthy? Why don’t they like me?
Thank God that isn’t me today. I have realized that sometimes, things truly work out and settle the way they were meant to. Often, life will show us the way-and too often, we fight it. So I chose to let things fall into place naturally. It’s a less exhausting way to live. There’s peace here.
Father’s Day is always tricky for me, still.
A part of me knows that our lives were so complicated. There were so many variables. So much illness. Illicit drugs. Dysfunction. Messy messy stuff.
Another part of me knows that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my children, to help them to heal their pain or to mend our relationship if something derails us.
Love and logic tell me that there isn’t anything that would get in the way of me trying to cultivate some kind of connection with my kids.
Reality tells me that life is messy and complicated. Sometimes people have their reasons and we aren’t always privy to someone else’s “why.”
I used to spend Father’s Day a little sad, as I helped my own kids celebrate the dad they have. Silently pondering my worth and questioning why I am not enough. Asking what I have done wrong or what I could have done better or should have done more of.
Acceptance has helped me to separate my dad from his role as my dad. He is also his own person, who has built a new life that he loves; a peaceful one. One that he does deserve too.
This year it was nice to spend Father’s Day wholly focused on what matters. And that is what and who is right in front of me.
I hope he did the same.
Happy Father’s Day.
Note* I chose a photo that doesn’t reveal your identity. Thank you for not suing me as you have threatened in the past for writing about you.