Months after I found out he was biologically my father I became really angry. The more the days would pass the more anger would flow through my body. It got to the point where I couldn't even look at his ashes and not get the urge to flush him.
I started to pace talking to his ashes that were outside on the porch , "How could you do this? What wa so wrong with me that you couldn't have just did the DNA test like I asked when I lived with my mom? Why couldn't you tell me to my face that you didn't believe I was your daughter? Why tell the etire family who, in turn, denied me at your fucking funeral? I don't understand what was so wrong with me that you couldn't just be my father?"
I couldn't hold it together, I kicked his ashes. I watched the container fly down the porch steps. "How's it feel to be kicked while you're already down?" I said through the tears. I couldn't breathe. Panic attacks started and I couldn't get grounded. I wanted a beer. I wanted to drink all the pain away. I know, I am a hypocrite but I didn't drink. I, unlike him, am not a coward. I ran for so long from my problems an never knew where I got it or learned it from. Was it genetic? I ran away before I knew the man existed so I believe it is in my genetic makeup.
I didn't get his looks, instead I got his instict of running when life get dificult. Instead of trying to fight for things or people I run. Instead of getting help I drank. Instead of trying to fix relationships I leave. The first time I ever stayed in a relationship longer than 3 years is with my youngest childrens father. I hated being in relationships. I hated the work that went into them. I still hate it when people cry. I lack empathy for a lot of things. I hate when a guy talks about feelings. I don't react well nor talk about my own feelings.
I wonder if thats how he was. I wonder if he lacked empathy. I wonder if he treated my mother the way I treated the people I dated. I always had them wanting me but I would soon get bored and no longer want to deal with them. Until they wanted to leave me then I'd do something to get them to stay. Once they had enough I no longer gave a damn if they came or went. How could he not want me when I am so much like him? Maybe thats why, I was a reminder of his screw ups and the reminder of the wife he married.
No one will change my mind when it comes to his feelings towards my mother. I look a lot like her aside from my nose. He hated that I looked like her. He begged her so many times after th girlfriend in Ohio to be with him again. I was 14 and I met my older brother, he and I shared the same mom. We both had this childish wish they'd be back together so we could be raised together. We were stupid kids. He didn't want me he wanted her.
My siblings never understood my anger. They believe it is something I could just get over, They all had their closure with him. I never will. They may not had it "easier" but my siblings never were raised by strangers. When my "mom" left when I was five I was no longer with family. My father knew I wasn no longer being raised by family and didn't care. I have tried to get over it. For years I bottled up my, what my family calls, "pity party". It ate away at me. For years these feelings festered.
They still think I no longer have a reason to be upset. It's okay, I don't expect them to understand. I'm glad they got over their struggles with our father. I don't wish this pain on my worst enemy. To feel worthless to not only from the person who birthed you but also by the person who was suppose to protect you. Both of my parents failed. Both are cowards. Both shouldn't have had children. They fucked up but I know what I don't want to be as a parent.
I am finally able to calm my thought when I get a text asking me how I am doing. I can't lie so I just don't respond. I can't talk to anyone. I don't want to hear how I am over reacting. It's not helpful. Didn't want validation, I wanted to be listened to. Not cut off and told to get over it or that so and so has it worse. I spent years thinkng of others pain and putting mine on the back burner. It was my turn to think of me.
The question always came back to "why" and "what's wrong with me". I ask his ashes hoping to hear an answer instead of a "WHEEE" at night. I just want answers. Why couldn't he just love me?