wow. the weeks just keep getting better. (note sarcasm)
My dad has been dead for almost a year. One would think that, after a year, I would have gained some deep perspective, that life would have begun to level out a bit, that the sadness would gradually have begun to subside. To a certain extent, all of this is true — my perspective has changed and life is starting to go somewhere again (a place other than grieving, that is). I’m definitely not feeling less sad, but I guess that’s to be expected. If anything, I’m actually feeling more sad. In action, I feel like I’m beginning to move on (going back to school, traveling, moving in with Josh to our new house in 1 week!) , but mentally, I am still so fucking stuck. Right after my dad died, I was feeling shock for a long time, major sadness and confusion, and a shit-ton of other awesome brain scorchers. Shock is definitely nature’s way of protecting you from reality, because it kind of keeps the trauma you’ve experienced at arm’s length until it has time to sink in. Without fail, shock gives way to reality, and then the fun really begins. Your confusion and bewilderment turn to disbelief, anger, sadness, resentment, hatred, and the list goes on. And then, the realization that life doesn’t stop for the bereaved is yet another fun discovery. No, life keeps shitting on you, full force, without retreating, and everything just begins to snowball into what I call brain-poop. My brain feels like a steaming pile of dragon poop.
I find the period I’m in now — and I don’t know what to call it — the most difficult. Figuring out HOW THE FUCK TO LIVE MY LIFE WITHOUT MY DAD IS GOD DAMN TRICKY. Waaayyyyy trickier than I anticipated. “Moving on” is really difficult because there are so many questions and ideas I want to bounce off of my Dad, and there are so many things I want to share with him. I want to show him the house Josh and I are moving into, I want to ask him advice about whether I should go back to school for education or nutrition, I want (and desperately need) relationship advice from him, I want to know if my craziness and depression warrant hospitalization, and so on. The past 12 months have been all about trying to deal with my sadness and disbelief, but now, now I need to start moving on with my life and getting my shit together and nothing seems to be fitting. I’m seeing the fault lines everywhere – things seem to be falling apart. Relationships within my family are self-destructing. I never realized how much of a foundation my dad provided for so many things. The world just doesn’t seem to work right without him in it.
My dad! The great buffer between me and the big, scary world. That’s what parents are — they keep you safe in this pseudo-psychotic, cruel, horrifying world.. they make you feel like things are always OK even when they are not. This is the most basic profile of a parent. My dad certainly was this person for me, and without him the world is alarmingly clear and it is burning my eyes. It is cruel out there, man!!!
I’m starting to encounter more and more life scenarios where my dad’s presence would be greatly desired, and if he were alive — he would definitely be involved. But he’s not alive. He’s dead. dead. dead and gone. So, when I come across these moments where I NEED MY FUCKING DAD he is not there, nor is he going to be there. So, I have to figure it out for myself. And I am. But it’s so damn hard! The transition from having a parent to help you with life’s curve-balls to not having that parent is NOT smooth, at least not for me. My mom just doesn’t provide me with the emotional support that my father did, and without him there are so many gray areas that I just don’t know what to do with. My confrontation with this extreme absence and confusion is most prevalent in my dealings with my brother. My dad provided this glorious protection between me and the drug-infused-goings-on of my bro (who I love very much, but who is very very troubled). I never knew what it was like to deal with my brother and his drug addiction first hand, because my dad always did it. He dealt with the 2 AM rescue-calls, the rehab-run-around, the anger, the uncertainty of my brother’s situation, the danger of it all… he kept me safe from all of this. Sure, my dad always told me the truth about what was going on – but he was the big super hero that was piecing it all back together, that was assuring me that it was going to be OK. And now, without him, I just don’t know if it’s going to be OK. And that is terrifying. I have never felt true fright until recent months, and it is a really hard emotion (is fright considered an emotion?) to deal with.
It is an intense thing to confront the constant ups/downs of a drug addict, to deal with them casting you aside when you can’t rescue them, to deal with the reality that you can’t help them and you have to turn them away when they want you to save them. Dealing with an addict who you are EXTREMELY CLOSE TO is more difficult than I ever could have imagined. My dad was the one who always took my brother in (perhaps not the best choice, but I can see now how hard it is to say no to someone you absolutely love when they are in need), and without him — my brother is running into all the same kinds of walls as I am, where the world just doesn’t work without our dad in it. In my dad’s absence, my mother and I have become the go-to-gals for my brother’s relapse-mania and intense demands. With the 1 year anniversary of my dad’s death quickly approaching (TOMORROW), my emotional state is beginning to falter as I am faced with the challenges of moving forward despite my incredible sadness and feelings of weakness, and my brother’s needs are becoming more and more intense and his situation more and more terrifying, and I CAN’T HANDLE IT. I really can’t.
There is one other new addition to this whole mess – for most of the past year, I have been remembering my dad as somewhat of a saintly god-figure. Everything I loved about him has prevailed, and all of the other things have been non-existent as far as my remembrance of him. However, now, all of the things that angered me about my dad are resurfacing. All of the issues I had with my dad’s parenting, flaws in his character (alcoholism, isolation, intense fear, lack of motivation, failure to do the things he really wanted in life), the ways he would sometimes retract his love from me if we got into a huge fight, etc., are all beginning to really eat away at me. The fact that he didn’t plan for me and my brother’s future in his absence – no life insurance, no will, no money, etc. – and a number of other things are really starting to bug me. I am feeling angry at my dad for a lot of things, and there is nowhere for me to put this anger except in the garbage, because there is nothing I can do about it now. Nothing is going to be resolved at this point. I need to accept all of the things I hated about my dad and move on from them. This is so fucking hard, though! It is so hard to just dismiss intense anger that has been building and building for the entirety of my life. I feel like I want to do something about the issues that I have with my dad, but I can’t! So frustrating.
Also, I feel intensely guilty for being angry at my dad since he is dead now. I know that when he was dying, during those last couple of weeks, he was struggling with a lot of regret from his life. I know that he accepted all of his misgivings and shortcomings, all of the things he did that he was not proud of, and he released them in order to move on past this life. So, why can’t I release them, too? I am having an incredibly difficult time doing this. I have so much anger and I can’t just make it disappear.
So, this is where I am right now. It’s really hard. It’s very lonely. And oftentimes, it seems really god damn hopeless. I’m trying to be positive but storm clouds keep getting in the way. I am really trying but am feeling so weak right now I can barely stand or think or breathe. I’m going to continue to fight for my recovery, I just don’t know how long one person can sustain such mental stress.
Heavy sigh.
Some pics that I love, including one of me when I was happier:
(These were all taken in 2003, when my dad would come to visit me on weekends during my Freshman year of college. We would sit by the river for entire afternoons, take pictures, fly kites, smoke pot, hang out, enjoy each other. These are some of my favorite life memories.)
