Thursday, May 12, 2005

The one in which I almost, kinda, sorta, maybe pretend to be deep.

Man, do I fucking need a shrink. I could give you 10 reasons a day why I need one, trust me. Here's today's, though, which I think is far superior to my usual whinybitchery: I just got an Evite to a party for a member of my paternal family. I don't see them all that often, but we're good; sometimes we have dinner, hang out, what have you. We still talk. I do not, however, talk to the pater. I haven't, for, oh, 12 years now, I think. I haven't actually seen him, gazed upon him with mine own two eyes, in the flesh, since I was nine. I haven't heard his voice since I was 15. I haven't read his words since I was 18. Nothing of him for the last 9 years. I have my reasons. They aren't terribly relevant to this post. They also aren't terribly original. I've been ambivalent about seeing him again, I've been considering seeing him again to let the healing begin, I've been violently opposed to ever talking to him again, ever, if it would mean the moisture of my breath might dampen a fire on his head. Which is rather harsh. The man only abandoned me, after all. But, you know, that shit stings. Anyway. Who is on the Evite guest list besides yours truly? All chipper and RSVPing and shit? My thoughts turn immediately to his whereabouts. (He's in the city. Huh. I'd heard it, but wasn't sure. I might have passed the man every day of my residence here and I'd never have known.) His appearance. (I remember him being short, which explains my midgetry, and bespectacled, which explains my blindness.) Oddly, I vividly remember his scars: a bulletwound in his calf, from some misshap suffered when he was a detective, and some frat symbol branded into his chest. I'm not concerned with his reasons, his history, his prevarications. I've heard them all. Even some he told others, totally outside the family (as when he told an old mutual friend of his and my mother's that he was working hard to put me through my Ivy-league school. To the contrary, his regular child-support dodging and lack of assistance almost got me kicked out after my first semester, because the financial aid office was not taking "he's not giving us anything, no we don't have any more money" for an an answer. Yes, I am still very, very bitter about that.) It's weird. It has been so long since I've had any communication with the man that I sometimes forget he exists. And then these little reminders pop up. I think the paternal fam would like us to make up. My grandmother keeps saying things like "water under the bridge." Goddamn it. I'll decide when the mighty Native American-named river of Pissedthefuckoffanddamagedashellapaqua stops flowing under the fire-bombed Trustinmen Bridge, thankyouverymuch. The thing is, though, I don't burn. The hatred is not seething, or hot. I don't hate the man at all, actually. And I see a great deal of him in me, in ways that I think are useful, if only to recognize the devils I'll have to face. Like a taste for adventure. A penchant for flight. A rootlessness. And that's it. That's what he is to me, now. A lesson. I don't think seeing him, talking to him, will do me any good. At all. If I saw him, it would be for him. (Assuming he is behind any of the reconciliation hints. Shit, he might not give a fuck for all I know.) And, sadly, I don't much care if he sleeps easy or not. And I'm just tired. And numb. And not willing to play make up at some family function for the sake of the family, and not mean-spirited or self-centered enough to hurl the evite, if one could hurl an evite, back to its source ranting about manipulations and not wanting to see that man. It doesn't matter, anyway. As it stands, the event is right-smack-bang in the middle of my next Chicago trip. Which is all I mentioned when I declined to attend. And that is absolutely diplomatically slight prevarication, and, I think, okay.


At 5/12/2005 06:50:00 AM, Blogger Berry said...

Dang Sid...I totally feel your pain. I have the same bitter/ambivalent feelings about my own father. It is true that sometimes you forget that they even exist until your have little reminders. My father also likes to brag on all of the accomplishments I have made but he hasn't made any contributions to them other than a sperm donation back in 19--. My mother LOV-ED that man though until her last days. She just couldn't live with him. I'm sure I also have traits of my father but since he was never around I wouldn't even know what they are. That was a deep post. Girl, keep working through it. I totally understand how you feel.

At 5/12/2005 09:28:00 AM, Blogger K. said...

I feel your pain too. I haven't talked to my father since 1997, have not seen him since I was in high school. I don't know if he's still alive or not. I don't hate him, I just don't care. It's only when people ask me about my father that I remember him.

My thinking is: He was not there for my mom or me when it counted; I have a family, and he chose to not be a part of it. What's weird is I don't feel a lot of regret when it coems to my perspective about my father, but it has certainly played a role in shaping me, maybe one day I'll actually get therapy and figure out exactly how.

At 5/12/2005 10:43:00 AM, Blogger divine m said...

Dang lady, I don't know. I spent most of my life feeling abandoned by my dad and hating his guts and wondering how the hell he could have made the choices he made that were so damned detrimental to my mother and me. Then I stopped talking to him, stopped trying. And that was even worse. Then I realized that the the truth was very different than I thought it was--that I had a lot of growing up to do (not made easy by my parents' choices) before I could even hear what he had to say. And I also had to see my mother as the fragile, flawed, wonderfully and tragically complex person she is rather than the goddess/martyr single mama I had narrowly seen her as. Now I see them both (past and present) as utterly fucked up but doing the best they can with their limited abilities. And at this point, I feel like less of a casualty, and far more empowered by owning my life and not blaming their stupid, selfish choices that yes, continue to this day.

But of course, it has taken some good old ass-kicking therapy to get to this point.

At 5/12/2005 12:19:00 PM, Blogger Viv said...

The funny thing about the Internet is that it brings diverse people together -- and people with very similar backgrounds.

I totally hear ya Sid and the ambivilance. The evil bitch in me says forget it. He's been a bastard and he's lost his chances (I'm so totally stealing the river name Pissedthefuckoffanddamagedashellapaqua) and it's his loss. But I also understand the pressure to reconcile with him. In my mind, he's got to make a more active thing than an evite RSVP. If he wants to talk, he should contact you (and then you can burn/build that bridge when you get there).

Shit. While I loved my dad, I still hated him. It's something that I've come to peace with. You can love and hate someone at the same time. He wasn't perfect, he wasn't a saint, but he was my dad. It's hard for me to imagine cutting off family (even though there were YEARS when I wanted to do so). But that's my mentality. I'm old-school mobster. Hopefully you'll figure it out, but I wouldn't sweat it because other fams are giving you pressure. These are your feelings and it's your thing to work out on your own time schedule.

At 5/12/2005 12:25:00 PM, Anonymous The Heretik said...

Trustinmen Bridge. A lot of talent here. Write on, sister. Right on.

At 5/12/2005 05:44:00 PM, Blogger Mary said...

Not speaking from any personal knowledge whatsoever but I would think if you'd want to see him it wouldn't be at some happy happy joy joy evited festivity. Maybe some people would feel it's better like that, a lot of people around and such, but not me. I wouldn't want to feel on display like that.

You have a valid reason for not going in your Chicago trip and if it is a maneuver that he is behind, than he can plan a less ostentatious gathering. Damn Evite, anyway. I could tell you stories of the havoc they've wreaked in my life. Booooooooo, EVITE!

Love ya, Sid! I hope you're around in August because that's when it looks like I (may) be out that way. I'll keep you posted. LOL!

At 5/13/2005 02:50:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sid, I too was in a similar situation. It seems that the hardest part of being ignored or abandoned by a parent is not the daily activies that one can get by without that person, but the viseral shockingness of when the parent's lack of connection impacts one's life.

For me it hit in a similar way to you -- when I realized that my sister, who had worked very hard at a community college to overcome her disabilities, who had been accepted to a very good private liberal arts college would not be able to attend (and therefore had to go to a state university) for the sole reason that it would be impossible to get my ex-father to pay her tuition (which he could afford) by the due date.

At 5/17/2005 07:01:00 PM, Blogger callalillies said...

LET THE BASTARD ROT IN HELL!!!! THE BASTARD wasn't there for you THEN and he won't be there for you NOW.

Why is it when a child is in need of food, clothing, shelter, and love, men leave? Then, when the child is grown, on his/her own, the bastard father returns to reap the glory as if nothing ever happened - as if his ass was there all the time? Never mind that mom and other relatives scrapd together funds to give you the necessities of life, but to make certain that you prevail at Ivy Leage. Never mind that the family had to go without many things to buy you anything you needed for college. Never mind that mom had to take on the role of two parents. Hell, let the n@**%r back in, Sid, and he will do the same thing all over again.

THE BASTARD is seeking some personal gain, perhaps his own "healing" for not being there for you. I hope he's in need of your blood or an organ. That could be it. I'm not trying to be funny, but he's after something from you for his gain. To hell with his family for trying to set you up w/meeting THE BASTARD. They know his f'g history with you, yet "its water under the bridge." What kind of shit is that?

F them all, Sid. I'm not saying hate THE BASTARD and his family, just don't get sucked in.

That's all I'm sayin'.

And for all the bloggers, don't let the f'ers make you feel guilty or want to seek therapy. They are assholes. Don't waste money on therapy trying to get over some f'er who was never there for you. On, the other hand, if you need to work through it and you feel therapy is absolutely necessary, do so, and I wish you all the best.


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