Daddy

Concerning my "Daddy"...

(This is a part of the story I wish I could skip. Ok, let me just tell you what my problem is and then we can just stop all this right here. I don't want to have to look back to my past anymore. I've moved on away from him and away from the me I thought I was. But if I did that, you wouldn't see all the pieces of the puzzle and so the picture would not mean as much to you. After all which is worth more to you, a poster that was handed to you to hang on your wall OR a puzzle after you put the effort and time into positioning every piece into its correct spot to complete the picture as shown on the box?)

My Dad is still the same as he ever was and if I lived at home right now, everything would be the same. He doesn't smoke. I've never seen him EVER take a drink of alcohol (not that there's anything wrong with that. I enjoy a good jack & coke occasionally). He has never taken a drug that was not prescribed to him. I wish any one of these would be his problem. My Mother would tell you that it's his obsessive compulsive disorder that's to blame. My Brother would say, "Just keep your mouth shut and you won't piss him off. Everything will be ok." The doctors would tell you that they just need to change his dosage of medicine and that should change his behavior. And my Dad blames anything or anyone but himself for his own actions. I don't know for sure where the real problem lies enough to fix or change anything, but I do know that while I was living at home, I was his scapegoat.

My Dad is a perfectionist, analytical, discontented, lacking self-control, easily angered and annoyed, irrational man. You can check under "My Dad" in the dictionary and that's what you'll find. Isn't it funny (not in a haha sort of way) that some of the most self-loathing people tend to be the most selfish? Even more than some arrogant jerk at the top of his game on wall street. It blows my mind to think that the people who are on suicide watch actually love themselves MORE than the many people who won't share a dime with the beggar in front of Wal-Mart. My Dad too has spoken of suicide. A child doesn't forget seeing her Father finally break down and cry. I thought at the time that he was coming to his senses (not that I wanted him to kill himself but that he was finally admitting there was a problem to deal with). I thought it was the beginning to an end. After all, I thought of dying many times before he came to that conclusion in front of us. I didn't want to take my own life but I didn't want to be "the burden" causing the constant strife to my family anymore. I remember asking God to come and take my life for me -- To take the breath out of my body. I was still not even a teenager at this point.

My Dad is controlling. If you are out of his control then you do not deserve his love anymore. Soooo many regrets, so many stories I could tell, so many scars he's left (mostly emotional ones although there was physical violence). I can still hear his voice in my head. Telling me I'm worthless and no man will ever want to marry someone like me. Telling me he loves me and then a moment later "I haven't loved you since you learned how to talk!" I remember the slaps to the face and hands around my neck. I remember listening to the crash and screams coming from the bedroom as my Mom and Dad fought about her standing up and coming to my defense. This is not my step-dad! This is my DAD, folks! And that hurts...because I love(ed) him. I was just a kid but I was his kid. Wasn't he supposed to love me too?

I'll wrap it up by telling you about my wedding day.

I decided I would push my hurts aside for my dysfunctional father and have him walk me down the aisle. It was an outdoor wedding so we were waiting behind the cars in the parking lot for our cue that they were ready for us. It was just me and my Dad standing there. Most Dad's would take these last few moments to look at their daughter and say things like, "You look so beautiful. Oh, how much you've grown up. Your Mom and I are so proud of you." I would have settled for just a look and a smile. Instead my Dad..lol..right before giving his daughter away, looks up at me and says, "Kayt, look at me. Do I have something in my teeth?" and then proceeds to continue searching for the fabled food item with the side mirror of the van next to us.

I do not blame my Father for any of MY failures, because there is always a choice to be made. His choices both bad and good ones have left an imprint on me, and that is something that I can forgive but I am not able to forget.

"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."
--------Rose Kennedy-------

Next up: More to say about school and youth group.

After that: College and Changes