I posted a picture on my Facebook page the other day of Scarlett reading a book to Evie at bedtime. My uncle, whom I lived with for a few years during my childhood, responded to the post and said “thank you for sharing this. Your father really appreciated it.”
This comment made me pause. Was he referring to my actual father…or himself? He never ever called himself my dad so I guess I knew he was talking about his brother.
After reading that comment, I thought for a moment about how to respond. My immediate reaction was a combination of discomfort and empathy. I was uncomfortable knowing that he saw a picture of my daughters. Knowing he saw this intimate and sweet moment troubled me. But then at the same time I have compassion for him because I feel like he’s missing out on something really special and that sucks for him. My kids are awesome.
Backstory (in case you don’t know me well or haven’t read past blog posts) I ran away from home at 8 years old and haven’t had a relationship with my parents (who were both abusive) since then. I don’t harbor any ill will towards my dad, I just have no desire to reconnect. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the fact that I never really went to therapy and in some ways, I probably should. But that also takes time…
I’m likely avoiding therapy because I’m so used to taking care of myself in all areas of my life. I really don’t like to let other people help me. I think it’s because, as a child, I always had to take care of myself. Others would try help here and there, but if you think about it, you are the only person that can ever make you okay. I internalized this lesson very early in my life. I am the only person I can control so I am going to control the shit out of myself and not let anyone else help. That has been the way of my life for years.
Thinking about my need for control and my dad, I realize that there are some issues I probably need to work through. I think maybe I’ve swept some things under the rugs in my mind and it might be time to do a real cleaning. I don’t know if I need therapy for that. I’m not against it, that’s for sure. But I’ve been in my mind my whole life, turning over thoughts, questioning why I’m me and do the things I do, hashing out my emotions through writing. I feel like it would take a while to get someone else to understand me enough to help me.
Plus, so far, I’ve managed to function as a pretty stable and successful adult. Except of course for that one stuffed animal/mac and cheese incident that happened recently. As long as I keep my cool and not make a shit show of my life, I’m thinking I can do this mind cleaning myself.