I'm blogging right now because I'm unable to sleep and when that happens, well, my mind races and goes places it generally shouldn't/wouldn't normally. Anyway, today's an important day, or so I've been told. It's Father's Day. Yay, how awesome, right? Well, maybe for people who actually have one.
Before you go jumping to conclusions about immaculate conception and what not (I'm not the second coming of Jesus, I'm sorry!) let me clarify that while I have a father, biologically, I don't have a father in any other sense of the word. Thought it's honestly possible I don't have the correct definition.
Wikipedia says the following:
"A father (or dad) is a male parent who has raised a child, supplied the sperm through sexual intercourse, or sperm donation which grew into a child, and/or donated a body cell which resulted in a clone."
Huh, I didn't know the latter was possible. Going further down the page I came across the following information:
"Traditionally, fathers act in a protective, supportive, and responsible way towards their children. Involved fathers offer developmentally specific provisions to their sons and daughters throughout the life cycle and are impacted themselves by doing so. Active father figures may play a role in reducing behavior and psychological problems in young men and women. An increased amount of father - child involvement may help increase a child's social stability and/or educational achievement."
All of this is very interesting because my father didn't do any of those things. Heck, I was lucky if he could even pronounce my name right half the time. And I can't help but wonder how my life would have been different if he had been a better man. The information above was quite illuminating in that regard. Would I have done better behavior wise and not acted out so much as a young child? Would I have been better off psychologically and not be afflicted with depression, social anxiety, and mild-OCD every day of my life? Would I have done better academically and not dropped out of High School because I couldn't handle dealing with all the problems in my life?
I guess I'll never know.
What I do know is that I have no respect for him as a person because he was never there for me growing up. He couldn't even be bothered to attend a birthday. Okay, well maybe that's not entirely true.. He made my 4th, 7th, and I saw him on my 11th. Otherwise? I didn't get not so much as a phone call.
I remember around the time I was 12 years old he called me up and told me that things were going to change. He told me he wanted to be in my life. I didn't believe him. He appeared randomly when I was hanging out with my friends and showed off his brand new car and then took me to the mall and hung out for an hour or two. I was shocked. He told me that it was the start of a new beginning. He told me to be ready next Friday and we'd go out again. Of course I waited the entire week for that day and got dressed up all nice and what not.
He never came. He called a few days later and apologized, something came up. He promised that this next Friday would be our day. I was a bit skeptical, but he sounded sincere and I believed in second chances. So again, I waited the rest of the week and got all dressed up. He didn't show. I didn't even get a personal phone call as he had my Grandmother break the news to me. She told me that something else came up but he said it would definitely be next Friday. This time I didn't wait. He never came and I didn't see him again until I was sixteen. And then at this point (I'm 21) I haven't seen him since I was 16.
Part of me is bitter because through his selfishness he robbed me of what could have been a series of beautiful memories and experiences. I never got to know what it was like to play catch with him or have him take care of me when I was sick or even have him congratulate me on my achievements. And then the other part of me understands that I didn't need him my entire life.
I achieved SO much in my life without him being there for me. I went through self-harm and I beat it. I stopped being so depressed. I am now fighting against my anxiety and not letting it control me as much as it used to. I was published at the age of 21. I have another novel coming out with an amazing press. I've been engaged for five years and have an apartment with my fiance. I've met so many wonderful people who actually do care about me and would never hurt me as badly as he did. And I've grown so much as a person that it scares me sometimes, because I never thought it was possible.
And I'll continue to do well without him.
I don't know what the point of this long rant was, but...I guess it's good to let things out every now and then. I hope whoever reads this can forgive my random explosion.
As always, lots of love and applesauce <3