Dads

Growing up I said I hated my father. I wonder if those words will stick with him. I sure hope not. We butted heads as I was growing up. My mum and other members of my family said that I was just like him and I hated hearing it. I've grown up a lot since then. 

I guess I started to realize shortly after I got away from my dad how truly wonderful he is. When people told me I was just like him, I didn't cringe. In fact, I took it as the great compliment that it was and is. The reason my father and I had a hard time getting along was because I am just like him. And I love that. As I look back I can now see all of the wonderful things my father did for me. I appreciate his humor and his love for a good argument. I love the way he can answer every single question on Jeopardy, but is never cocky about how smart he really is. 

It wasn't until recently that I truly understood just how incredible my father is and I am ashamed of that. While I was in the hospital and being flooded by guests, text messages and phone calls I started getting extremely overwhelmed. I didn't know how to let anyone know this and, quite frankly, I was on the verge of tears as I laid in my hospital bed just nodding and smiling an not knowing how to get rid of the overwhelming emotionally claustrophobic feeling that was suffocating me. No one noticed, which was the point. I didn't want them to. I didn't want to be rude. My dad didn't care about being rude. I doubt he would ever admit this, but he's truly a sensitive guy. He picked up on how overwhelmed I was and he stated that he was leaving making my mum and sisters leave with him because he was the driver.  He was so subtle in helping because that's what dads do. They help you without making a big deal about it. 

My dad has worked on our house for us only asking for a few beers in return. He has giving me countless rides places, protected me from as much as he possibly could, worked his ass off to give us an amazing life, showed us the value of family and love and has molded me in to the best person I could be. I have many blessings in my life and they far outweigh the regrets and I owe a lot of that to my father. 

I have so many amazing memories of him and my mother and how grossly in love they are. Now I can just laugh at all of the times he embarrassed me in front of my friends (and trust me, there were a lot of those times). I think back and realize just how much he actually shielded me and protected me. I am so very lucky to have a father like him. I know many people don't. Fathers are amazing people, but I feel like mine has an added advantage over the rest of them because he is mine and I am so thankful to have him. 

If someone today tells me I am just like my father, my heart swells with pride and a huge smile breaks out on my face and I think to myself, I sure hope so. If I'm half the person he is, I'm pretty friggen great. I love you dad and I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass my whole life. Thanks for raising me to be like you. I hope I make you proud. I'm sure you'll never read this, but if you do just know that everytime I said an unkind word against you or said I hated you I never meant it. I love you so much and I could never imagine a better father and friend than you. 

I think it's time

Time to start writing again. It has always helped me and I feel like it can continue to do so. 

Sometimes I wonder how I can be so overwhelmingly happy, yet feel like I am heading in to a world of depression all over again. I guess it's hard to understand if you aren't going through it, but sometimes I just feel out of touch with myself. Like I'm a shell. 

I try to portray this aura of confidence, but I am a total fraud. The only time I feel remotely fond of myself is when I'm hidden under make up. That's not right, is it? I should be able to like myself when I'm not hidden. 

Sometimes I wonder if there is makeup for the soul. People tell me I'm a good person, but it's hard to believe it. I don't feel like a good person. I feel guilty for things I can't control or things that I shouldn't feel guilty about. Maybe people are seeing my made up soul. Maybe I really am a horrid person and that's where all of these guilty feelings come from. I don't really have any of the answers. I don't think anyone does.