August 12, 2008 - 11:27 pm this is a long entry, about my dad. you don't need to read it. i needed to write it. i'm not sure about the non existent relationship i have with my father. i think about it more than i would like, i feel guilty for not returning his two calls to me over the last 12 months. the first call was three days before the wedding and he knew that he hadn't been invited. it was right before i was about to get a facial and i came close to having a meltdown. scott answered the call on his phone, which is my old number and had to ask three times before dad would tell him who it was. i don't know what that means exactly. he's just so fucking arrogant. i spoke to mum about it and she said he always seemed to know when she was feeling good (not that i was feeling particularly great before the wedding, i was stressed and angry heh) dad would show up and ruin things. i don't know if that's what his intention was, but i've always had such a negative feeling when it came to dad, that i felt like i was going to puke. so i went into my facial and half way through it, i had a very small epiphany. i didn't have to speak to him. i didn't have to discuss why i never invited him to the wedding. i was an adult and didn't have to do anything i didn't want to. my meltdown ceased and i went on with the wedding which was already fucking exhausting and thought about it time to time, but never called back. just recently scott discovered an old voice mail on his phone from dad (again, my old number) from march. he tried to save it, but it didn't or whatever, and he can only remember that it was dad. hmmmmm. i'm not sure what to do. i feel guilty. i also have a whole lot of fucking resentment and the obligatory daddy abandonment issues that i have never been able to get over and it still does damage to my current relationship. i am furious that he would even attempt to contact me and bitter that he hasn't tried harder. such is the contrast it has always been - he would forget to pick me up and i would feel so hurt that he could forget me, and yet i absolutely hated going to his place. i was close to tears every time i had to get into his car from a very young age. i felt elation the day i was leaving (sunday was my favorite day of the week for such a long time) and it swelled in me as i got in the car to return to mum's, as i saw home approaching, until i could barely keep a grin off my face. these weekends were hard to get through when i was young. we had a divorced kids group when i was in primary school and all the kids would talk about how much they wanted their parents to be together still and i just... didn't. i felt petrified every time i went there and i'm not even sure why. i clammed up and couldn't speak (problems i still have today when meeting new people) and was a completely different personality while i was there. i had to really prepare myself when i was told that i would be staying for more than three days, i dreaded every moment and every day i would wake up with the countdown in mind. i got into reading when i was around 11, which meant i could escape into books for several hours at a time. music and reading were my saviors. it made the weekends go quicker and i was comforted by things that were from my real home. but as i got older the trips became less frequent, which i was always thankful for. my half brothers were born and i became a babysitter, not by choice, and it pretty much sealed the fate of me never wanting children. particularly boys. i knew i was in love with scott when i went away with dad for an easter weekend and i wasn't even the slightest bit bothered getting into the car. my personality was still extremely reserved, but i didn't feel weighed down by the dread; i felt swept up by the crazy swoony feeling that scott would give me and still does to this day. that's kind of sick. i knew i loved scott because i didn't feel the normal terror of being in the presence of my dad. i didn't tell him i got married the first time. or the second, i suppose. i saw him shortly after the first time (with scott still in the US) and he quite obviously knew but didn't ask me outright and instead asked a lot of passive-aggressive questions. i had no interest in admitting to getting married since it was still a bit of a taboo even with mum. i played dumb and shrugged it off and came out of the function shaking. so... time went by and i didn't hear from dad for 4 years. i had pretty much written him out of my life. and now, these two calls weigh on my mind all the time. i fear if i call, i won't be able to speak, my personality will disappear and i'll become that person again - that little girl that wanted to cry every time i had to go near him. i just don't fucking understand why i have no voice when it comes to my dad.
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