It's not over...til it's over...

I've been writing this blog in my head for a few days now... I just didn't know where to begin. I thought of starting at the beginning, but couldn't really find where that was... Then I thought of beginning at the end, and that's when I realized that it's not over. It's FAR from over (or at least I hope it's far...lol)

You see, Friday night it was confirmed that Daddy has remarried (third wife...at least I only know of three...lol). Let me make it very clear up front that it does not bother me that he's married - I just feel sorry for the woman - it's simply the significance that is marked by the fact that he's married, and yet I didn't find it out from him...but through family that heard it through someone at church, because he happened to marry one of her relatives. Yeah. Twisted, I know.

March 14th marked the one year mark from the day I called Daddy and left him upteen messages pouring my heart and soul out to him. Ok...I think that I already wrote this pretty well the other day in an email I sent a friend after I heard the news. The email went as follows:

I know today's news probably shouldn't have bothered me at all...but I guess this was just a bad week for it. Last Saturday was the year mark from the day I last tried to make contact - I called him and left messages, cause he didn't pick up, and offered him complete forgiveness for all he had done to me, and I asked his forgiveness for holding onto everything as long as I had. I apologized for not being the daughter he wanted, and apologized for expecting too much from him. I hadn't heard from him for 6 months before that call, and I haven't heard anything from him since.

Daddy was physically abusive toward me until I was 8, and Mama moved us out of the house he had built, and we all had shared as a "family." Instances ranged from him using his hands, fork, hairbrush and remote... But even more than the physical abuse was the emotional and mental abuse. I could never be enough for him. Ever. I made straight A's through my entire school career, graduated 13th in a class of 380 something students, with honors...and that still wasn't enough. I could have applied myself a little more - I could have been in the top 10 if I had tried a little harder!

The only times he EVER showed up to anything that I was a part of was when I was being recognized for an achievement, and being given an award! Those were the times he would actually acknowledge me, hug me, and tell people he was proud of me. But let me just be singing or acting - which were two HUGE loves of mine - and he would never show up. Then came my looks. I can't remember a time in my life that he wasn't constantly making fun of fat people (though he never directly called me fat)...his favorite saying was, "there's never a shortage." He only likes my hair long - which is probably why, even though I prefer it long as well, it is usually short. He let's me know clearly, and loudly, of his disappointment every time he sees me and my hair is short.

He claimed to be saved, but would never go to church with me, or join me in any other church functions or outings.

The only time I could get him to spend time with me was if I laid down my preferences and did what he wanted to do. The few times we've done things together, we always ate where he wanted to (and he would always order for me!), watched what he wanted to watch, went where he wanted to go, did what he wanted to do. I watched EVERY single one of the Star Wars movies just to be able to spend time with him! I went with him to the Scottish Highland games (we're apparently Scottish, and he's intensely proud of the heritage...even has the kilt and other junk to go along with it), and would wore my sash and hat with the pompom on it! Just so I could spend time with him! And he'd be proud of me because I was doing what he wanted me to!

My daddy couldn't tell you what foods I hate, what foods I love, what my favorite color is, what my dreams and hopes for the future are, what candy I like best, what drink I crave on intensely happy days, and what I crave on days when I just want to feel loved, cared for and all wrapped up. He couldn't tell you what my favorite restaurant is, or what my favorite movies are. He couldn't tell you that I absolutely love to cook, and he couldn't tell you that I love to have things neat, organized and clean, but only go into cleaning "frenzies" when something is really weighing heavy on my mind. He couldn't tell you what kind of car I drive, where I live or where I work. He couldn't tell you who my friends through school were and he couldn't tell you who they are now. He couldn't tell you who my first boyfriend was, and he couldn't tell you how my heart and soul longs to find my husband and the father of my future children now. He couldn't tell you my biggest fear, and he couldn't tell you the thing I consider to be the worst thing that ever happened to me - physically or emotionally. He couldn't tell you that my eyes change colors depending on my mood, or that I have a freckle on my bottom eye lid. He couldn't tell you that I prefer jeans to any other bottom wear on the planet, but enjoy dressing up in skirts and dresses every now and then. He couldn't tell you that I layer every top I put on. He couldn't tell you that flipflops are my favorite footwear, but that some days I just want the comfort of my tennis shoes. He couldn't tell you that I have always thought of myself as being his greatest disappointment and failure. He couldn't tell you that for years I have considered myself to be too icky to deserve anyone that could truly care about me, because of what he put me through. He couldn't tell you that I have a horrible time trusting males, because he is the male I measure all the rest against. He couldn't tell you that when I finally allow myself to get close to a guy, I immediately try to go ahead and figure out why he is going to stop wanting to be around me, so I can prepare myself in advance. He couldn't tell you that I long for the day when God will finally make all these memories so distant, and I can completely accept the man God has for me - totally allowing him to become a part of me, and to see inside me to all the hurts, disappointments and scars, and allow him to completely love me, and become my human protector and provider. He couldn't tell you that there are many nights I lie awake and wander how different I would have been if he had just truly loved me, even once. He couldn't tell you that there are still nights I cry myself to sleep, wishing I could have had the prince charming daddy that movies are made of. He couldn't tell you that even though he has hurt me more than I can even begin to put into words, that I still crave a relationship with him more than anything in this world - even more than becoming a wife and mommy.

So...there it is. I think I put it into better words that night because it was fresh on my mind. As I told Sharon (my aunt), Friday night after I got the message, I'm not upset now because I'm angry, or I'm holding onto unforgiveness toward him. I'm just hurt, and sad. Really, really sad. Because he's my daddy, and he doesn't want anything to do with me. And never really has. I know that God has blessed me with many, many people that do love me, and do want me to be a part of their lives, but for whatever reason, I just can't let him go. I do love him, with everything in me. I crave a hug from him, or even one of his nasty "potlicker" kisses. But the truth is, that I can't even remember what he looks like, and I can't hear his voice anymore.

In the movie PS I Love You, the main character loses her husband to cancer. Her mother lost her husband when the daughter was 14, because the husband decided he didn't want to be a husband and father anymore, and they never see him again. There's a moment in the movie where the daughter is getting upset with the mom and she finally tells her that she can't understand what she's feeling, because Gerry (the daughter's husband) wanted to stay, but couldn't because he died. The mother answers with, "yes! Because it's so much easier knowing that my husband chose to leave me!"

That's how I feel. My relationship (or un-relationship...however you'd like to look at it) with my father is worse than if he had passed away, because at least then there would be a finality, and there would be a very real reason as to why he wasn't in my life. But knowing that he just choosed not to be a part of my life is so much worse...

I know I'm far from having the worst parent-child relationship, and I'm not claiming to have a horrible life, but this is my blog, so I get to share what's going on with me...and here it is. For better, for worse :)

For the rest of you that aren't my daddy, know that I love you too! With all my heart! And slowly but surely, God is allowing me to come to the full realization that it is completely alright for me to let parts of my heart go with others - know that each of you reading this has a part of my heart, and I trust you completely with it. I love you more than I could ever express with words, and know that I carry you with me in my heart always.

I love you.