2005-09-05 @ 1:38 p.m.
Editor's note: a pity party will be commencing forthwith. If you wish to forego this entry for something more lighthearted, please clicketh thou buttoneth. Have a nice day.
Four years ago today was the last time I saw my Dad alive. Thatís not to say that was the last time he was alive....it was just the last time I was able to hug him and say ďI love youĒ to him before his wifey/whore spirited him away to the Philippines. Iíve talked about this before. I had gone down to Roanoke Virginia in a last ditch effort to rescue him from the mail order whore before she whisked him off to a foreign country to steal his money without me interfering. I remember the trip like it was yesterday. It was less than a week before the 9/11 event in NYC and in a strange way, it was sort of like my personal version of that event, because everything in my life collapsed and things as I knew them changed forever.
I have never stopped missing my Dad. We were always very close. He gave me the unconditional love my mother never gave me and I flourished under his gaze. He was always encouraging me about my writing>
And just recently during an appointment with ďAĒ I realized the reason I havenít been able to date since then is because Iím afraid of the rejection I felt THAT week. I was always #1 in my Dadís eyes. It was the only place I felt like I was important. Everywhere else, I was never sure if people really liked me or whether they were just using me or "being nice". But with my Dad I could totally be myself and he would like me no matter what. And I was able to be totally relaxed and be myself.
Because I was never like that with anyone but him. I was always what other people wanted me to be. I was like a chameleon. I changed colors to match the person I was with. With Married Guy I sharpened up my wit because he was really sharp and witty. I started getting into politics because he was into politics. I had never really had an opinion about much of anything, but after we met and I heard about his many causes (he was very politically active), I wanted to be like him....I guess so that he would like me.
I have also done this with ďAĒ to a certain degree. He would mention a movie he liked and I would become an expert on it and be able to quote it. He mentioned a car he liked and I had my brother make a glass etching of it. I wanted to show him how important he was to me. It wasnít so much transference as it was my need to feel accepted, because I didnít feel like it was enough being ME. I have always felt the need to bribe someone to like me. Why I needed my shrink to like and accept me Iím not really sure.
With my Dad I never needed to do this. He liked me no matter what. We had a bullet proof relationship. We never really had any particularly deep conversations. He was a farm boy from Indiana. He only had one occupation his whole life. He was quiet like me. He suffered from depression. The only thing he was passionate about was flying. I never even told him I had been sexually molested until after I was 40. He was flabbergasted. And the only reason I told him was because I was going in the hospital for the first time and he was wondering why. I told him it was because I was having trouble dealing with my memories. We never talked about it again though. I wasnít hurt by that. He had all the information he needed. It was cool.
I think he was only angry at me once when I was a teenager. I had gotten locked out of my motherís house (they were separated) and I called him for help. He came over and I was there with my boyfriend Greg. We thought breaking in through a kitchen window was the best route, so my Dad boosted me in the window, and I opened the door, but then he was inexplicably angry at me. I asked him what was wrong and he thought Greg and I were going into the empty house to have sex. Man, was he ever wrong. Greg was gay. I kinda knew it at the time. Chances were we were probably going to just listen to Broadway music or something. But my Dad just didnít believe me, so Greg went home that night. I didnít want to upset or disappoint my Dad.
I really think what happened 4 years ago this week, totally disrupted my ability to form viable relationships. Before feeling rejected my Dad, because his wifey/whore told him to, I was able to make friends with people with a fair amount of ease. I was always a little tentative, but I could do it, because my Dad thought I was a good egg. But now I feel like an ugly chick being invited into a beauty pageant. I wonder if theyíre inviting me to be nice or if theyíre going to be making fun of me behind my back. My favorite phrase is from the movie "Wayne's World" and I use it all the time..."I'm not worthy." I say it tongue in cheek, but deep down I totally believe it. With him gone, I no longer feel like I have anyone to argue this point. And I don't believe people when they say otherwise. And it just hurts that I can no longer just call my Dad to talk about the weather, but instead I feel this immense pressure to please everyone in the entire freakiní universe on a daily basis. It gets tiring after a while and the rewards are
And I canít seem to make ďAí understand this. Heís always just, ďOh, you just need to go out on lots of dates, blah, blah, blah.Ē I canít even imagine having to do this because I think I would probably spontaneously combust if I had to do the chameleon thing with 20 different people. Can you imagine trying to figure out what everyone wanted me to be, and not believing that who I was was enough? Oy!
I actually remember coming home one day and saying to Guardcat, "Who am I?" Because I really wasnít sure at that point. Because at the time I was being one person for ďAĒ, I was being another person for my support group, I was being another person for my case mgr. I was being another person for Married Guy and I had absolutely no idea who I actually was when I was by myself. It was like I had lost my identity. So I walked around my apartment for several hours trying to discern who I was when I wasnít trying to be ďsomebody for somebodyĒ. And not surprisingly this all happened around the time I lost my Dad to the filipino mail order whore.
I guess all this transpired because I had just gotten rejected by the one and only person in my life who had never made any demands on me or played games or made his love conditional. It was just gone suddenly...like a person who had gotten sucked out of a 747 at 30,000 feet. I felt like he didnít love me anymore. Or at least thatís how my heart felt. I mean, Iím sure he loved me in his own lost way, but it also felt like a vast, blank hole in my life and still does.
And for some reason I just canít seem to get over it....The fact that I will probably get rejected by someone again if I put myself out there. Because if the one and only person in the world who would never reject me....rejected me...isn't it inevidible that it will happen again? I know ďAĒ is always saying that lots of people are going to reject you during your life and thatís just part of life, but I really donít think I can take one more rejection. Iíve only got one leg left to stand on. And if you kick that out from under me, Iím down, baby. And I really donít want that to happen again, because to be honest, it just hurts too damn much.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty