My Father's Hands

I'm going back to therapy.

Through a strange twist of events, I was able to meet with my therapist very quickly a month ago.  I updated him, we discussed those things in my life that he could help me with, and we chose a plan of attack.

Then I set appointments.  I couldn't get scheduled for sooner than March.  That seems like forever.  And way too soon.

You see, we're going to talk about my dad.

I went to therapy off and on for a couple of years a while back.  I attended a support group for a year or two.  I did lots of therapeutic writing to process some of the dark things in my life.  My attention to my relationship with my father has been lacking.  I have touched on it, but not really done much work.

Even though I feel like it's the source of so many difficulties.  Maybe all of them.

I have stayed away.  I have stayed mostly silent.

I knew I had other work to do so I always steered therapy that direction.  I avoided discussion about my dad whenever I could.

Why?

Because I am afraid.  I don't understand.  I feel so small and helpless when I think about my dad.  I worry that I'll get caught.  I worry that I'll get in trouble.  I worry that he will know, that he will find out.

I'm forty-two years old.  I'm still afraid of my father.  And I don't really understand why.

My memories are so inaccessible.  So foggy.  So vague.

And when I think of them, of my dad when I was little, all I feel is fear and sadness.

I am sad because I never had a daddy.  He didn't like me.  I was in the way.  I was trouble.  I was a disappointment.  I needed to be invisible to be safe.  I was a thing.  An annoyance.  A money suck.

As I have waited for my appointment I have tried to avoid preparing for the work.  I have tried not to think about it.  It causes such intense anxiety that the rest of my life becomes difficult.  I cry and shake and collapse.  I curl up in an attempt to hide.  To protect myself.  To be little and unseen.

But my mind started working anyway.

I still don't have many memories.  But my fear has found a focus.

I am afraid of his hands.  They are big and strong.  They hurt.  They are so strong.  They hold me in place.  They are in control.  They don't care about me.  I am a possession.  I am to be what he wants me to be.

When we are out together in public, I am never allowed to stray.  I must stay right by his side.  He grabs me by the shoulder or the back of the neck.  He holds me this way as he talks to people. 

I don't move.  I don't squirm.  I don't wiggle.  I am still.

I smile and say my lines, what I think he wants me to say.  Anything that will make him look good.  Anything that will make him let go of me.

But he doesn't let go.  Because I am bad.  I will misbehave.  I must be kept under control.

So I just do what he wants.

Don't worry, dad.  I learned my lesson well.  I do what I'm told.

Thanks a lot for that.  You set me up for a lifetime of abuse.  Boys and men telling me what to do and me obeying.  Because that's how to stay safe.  That's how to be loved.  Just do what you're told.

A Tough Day

I've been kind of lost today.  Unsure of myself.  Without direction.  And anxious.

Today is my dad's birthday.  I have been unable to decide how to deal with it.  I feel like I should make some kind of contact to let him know I remembered.  I really don't want to see him.  It's impossible to buy him anything. 

Today I wished I lived far away.  That way I could send a birthday card and that would be enough.

I'm afraid to initiate contact because I don't want a conversation.  I don't want two-way communication.

I spent the whole day trying to decide what to do.  Until I noticed at about 11:00 tonight that it was too late.  By not making a choice, I guess I kind of did.  I did not make contact.

I wrote happy birthday on his facebook wall.  That doesn't really count though because he doesn't check it.

I'm thinking maybe an apologetic "Sorry I missed your birthday; I hope it was a good one" text tomorrow.  I know it sucks, but it's really all I feel good about and honest in offering right now.

There's a small piece of me that is afraid I'm in trouble.  I doubt it because he doesn't feel insulted very often.  He'll probably just shrug it off.

But maybe I am in trouble.  I guess I won't know until tomorrow.

I'm trying to remember that I'm an adult.  Just because he gets upset it doesn't mean I am in trouble or that I've done anything wrong.  I'm trying to remember that he doesn't control my life, that he doesn't have the ability to punish me anymore unless I let him.

Now if I could just figure out how to stop letting him.

Progress Not Perfection

I have to constantly remind myself that's the goal.  Progress, not perfection.  Because, man, do I get frustrated when I find myself in familiar territory.  Back in a place I hated that I worked hard to crawl out of.

I'm a mess right now.  Lots of things getting me down, not the least of which is my health.  I feel awful.  Almost all day every day.  The last week has been particularly bad.  So much pain and dizziness and blurry vision.  It's really hard to function.

I can't control that.  I get it.

But I keep thinking that I should be able to control the other stuff, the emotional stuff.  I've experienced it before and learned how to handle it.  So why, when it comes back, do I have no clue what to do.

The thing that has been particularly troublesome lately is my sensitivity to the emotions of others.  I knew I was off my game.  Then I found myself in several situations in a short period of time where other people were upset.  Intense negative emotions.  Sometimes directed at me, sometimes not.  Either way, I crumbled.  I froze.  I shut down.  I withdrew from life.

I am in a place where I feel like I have to justify all my decisions again.  As I state how I feel or what I want I am taking an emotional read on the people around me to make sure that what I say is okay with them.  I hate that!

I am hiding from people because they might ask something of me that I don't want to give and I won't have a good enough answer.  Any little bit of pushing with strong emotion can make me buckle under right now.  I feel so vulnerable and weak.  I hate that, too!

I hate that other people's emotions are ruling my life.  I hate that I can't remember how I got past this last time.

The only thing I'm happy about in this situation is that I noticed.  I guess that's progress.  And that's what I'm working toward.

If you're wondering why I put this on this blog instead of my main one, let me tell you.  It's about fear and self-protection.  Honestly, too many people who know me read my main blog and I worry that there may be people who would take advantage of my current vulnerability if they knew.