Choose freedom

Facebook greeted me with “It’s Father’s Day! What’s on your mind?” Well, facebook, I’m glad you asked.

Today is Father’s Day. It is also my father’s birthday. I have done 50% of my daughterly duty. I mailed two cards. Well, a birthday card stuffed in a father’s day card. Like a Turducken. Technically, I guess for that I would’ve had to stuff a third card inside the birthday card. Like a Thank You card. Or a Congratulations. Or maybe Get Well Soon?

Squirrel!

I bought and mailed the cards. And I actually sent them to the correct address this year. Daugherhood for the win. The obligatory phone call will come later. And I will make the call. Not for him, but for me. I choose freedom today.

I don’t really know how I found forgiveness. I spent so many years of my life just waiting for an apology, for an admission of guilt, for him to pick up the phone and say, “honey, I didn’t do right by you and I’m sorry.” I wouldn’t allow my wound to heal until I heard those words. Father of mine, tell me where did you go? I’d react to any suggestion of reconciliation with rage. I wrapped the resentment of the perceived wrongs around me like a protective blanket, keeping out every hint of forgiveness, guilt, or sense of wrongdoing from my own side of the street.

Well meaning people would tell me “He did the best he could with what he had” and I would fume. No. No he didn’t. He should have done better. He could have done better. I deserved better.

It almost seemed worse because I had a dad. I had a strong, brave, funny, hero of a man who loved me more than anything in the world. I remember one night he came into my room and woke me up because he had a dream that I had drowned and he couldn’t get to me to save me. When he awoke, he had to make sure that I was alright. He loved me. He cared. He was my dad. I had a dad.

And then I didn’t. It took me years of therapy to be able to stand in my truth and say that neglect is abuse. It took me several more years to be able to admit that I wasn’t a terrible child. That my badness wasn’t the reason my father turned his back on me. The inverse was true. The behavior that I was exhibiting which I used as ammunition against myself to validate what a piece of shit I was, wasn’t the cause of the abandonment. The abandonment was the cause of the behavior.

And it isn’t lost on me how contradictory that all is. You hurt me and I blame you. I was awful so you hurt me and I blame me.  Both of those beliefs can exist in the same space at the same time. And what is left is this giant swirling mass of shame and blame and longing and regret. The push pull that so many of have experienced. Come to me – stay away. I love you – I hate you. I need you – I don’t need anyone. It’s all my fault – It’s all your fault. How to sort it all out?

You see, after years and years of not speaking or any sort of communication between us, my dad got sick. And I got scared. I know people who never had the opportunity to reconcile with their parents and I can only imagine how that must feel. Like a nagging wound that won’t heal. That won’t ever heal. Because what happens when you decide you want to bury the hatchet and make peace, but the person is gone from this earth? I know people who have gotten to a place of acceptance with that, but I’d rather reconcile with a person than with a headstone. And I choose freedom today.

I’m so grateful that I’ve learned what I have about addiction. Addiction isn’t only about drugs. Addiction is about getting to what you need, regardless of who you hurt in the process. When I realized how I harmed people in the many quests to feed my addiction, I developed more empathy for what other people have done to feed theirs. And even though my dad doesn’t do drugs and he only drinks socially, he’s still an addict. He still has a need that he MUST fill. I can understand that. And I choose freedom today.

So I started to reach out. The first time I called, he thought I was calling for money. I’m so grateful for my Higher Power and the protection that it often affords me because I didn’t feel that sting until after we were off the phone. It all could’ve ended right there. But it didn’t.

I continue to call. Every month or so, I pick up the phone and I call him. I ask him how he is. I tell him about my life. He isn’t a fan of the gay thing. He isn’t a fan of the Narcotics Anonymous thing. And I might as well be speaking another language when I talk about yoga. But I tell him just the same. I’m not going to pretend to be someone other than I am so that he’ll like me or feel more comfortable. I talk about what’s relevant in my life on the day that I call him. If he wants to know me, he will know me, even if isn’t who he would rather I be. And I choose freedom today.

One day not too long ago, the most amazing thing happened. I went out to the mailbox and there was a card. From my Dad. A Christmas card. Not a generic card out of a box, but a “To my daughter at Christmas” card. Sometimes you never know how much you need something until you get it.

I’d love to tell you that we have this amazing relationship now and that our reunion was like a greeting card commercial but that would be a lie. It’s still awkward. It’s still uncomfortable. He still hurts my feelings without meaning to. I don’t all of sudden feel like I have a dad again. But I’m not angry anymore. I have freedom. I don’t regret. I’ll take it.

What’s really on my mind is what I want to say to you.

If you have a dad and you love him and you have a great relationship, happy father’s day. I’m happy for you, truly. I hope you recognize how special that is and how many people would trade with you in a second. Choose freedom.

If you had a dad whom you loved dearly and you lost him, happy father’s day. Celebrate what you had. Rejoice in the memory of the man who made you what you are. Choose freedom.

If you had a dad who was your everything and then he went away, happy father’s day. You had him. Remember what that felt like. Sometimes I like to sit and remember that night he came into my room and woke me up because he loved me SO MUCH. I remember what that felt like. For a time, I had a dad. Choose freedom.

If you never knew your dad and there’s always been a void in that dad-sized hole in your soul, happy father’s day. Look around. If your experience is anything like mine, there has been a series of dads who’ve loved you, supported you, and given you what you need. You have everything you need. Choose freedom.

If your dad hurt you in unspeakable ways and the pain is unimaginable, happy father’s day. This day will continue to happen. Every year, you will be overwhelmed with images and sentiments and well wishes of people who can’t even imagine what you have had to endure. People who have gotten to experience something that should have been your birthright which was stolen from you. It isn’t fair. You did nothing to deserve it. Your pain is real. You are not alone. Don’t just survive this day. Kick the bitch of today in the teeth. Celebrate you and the beautiful soul you have become, not because of but IN SPITE of what you needed but didn’t get. I love you. You inspire me. Do something to celebrate you. Choose freedom.

Let this day be full of joy.

Choose freedom.