I have a guest post for you all today that is STRAIGHT from the heart. Heather of Domestic Extraordinaire shares some of her deepest feelings with us. Won’t you please show her some love?
For as long as I can remember my parents hated each other.
They were divorced three days after my third birthday and separated long before that.
They couldn’t stand to be in the same room with each other and most of their parenting decisions were made in a courtroom with lawyers deciding the facts.
Things have always been strained with my father and I, it got worse when I moved into his house after my grandmother passed away, and lived there for less than a year.
He thinks I moved out because of a boy. Truthfully, I always felt like a second class citizen at his house. He worked long hours and his wife didn’t like me much. She said I would be a great person if only I wasn’t so much like my mother.
After many years I thought maybe, just maybe it wasn’t them it was a child’s overactive imagination. Hopefully for a different life whose parents loved each other so very much. I thought maybe, just maybe I saw things through tainted eyes.
I thought that maybe my father was the kind of guy that wasn’t too emotional. That maybe he just wasn’t wired in ‘that’ way. I thought that now that I am an adult things would be different. He would be different.
I was hopeful that we could have some sort of relationship. I had forgiven him for things that have happened in the past, things he had said and things that had happened.
Then my little sister got engaged and they started planning a wedding.
Pouring over photo albums to get the perfect pictures for the DVD I was going to make for the rehearsal dinner I realized something. In all of the photo albums with the hundreds of photos I am in exactly 3 of them.
While there are loving captions written about the other photos of my half sister and step brothers, there is nothing on the photos with me or my full brother in them.
There are events in which I remember clearly being at and there are photos of people that they can’t recall now, but there are none of me.
I am never called to go out to lunch. I am never called to come and get a cup of coffee.
I know what you are thinking, but have you called him?
I have. I get answers like ‘I don’t eat lunch’ or ‘I think we may have other plans.’ Every.single.time.
But the clincher was when he couldn’t finish his speech at my half sister’s wedding because the best thing that ever happened in his life was going to be marrying the best son in law that anyone could ask for. When I asked him to dance he sputtered out something and made his way to the other side of the room. When talking about photography, like I would talk to anyone about it.
I saw him with family & friends. I saw him with my half sister and her husband. I saw him with many people that he didn’t know and they all seemed to know him more than I did.
It’s hard to not ask him why I am not good enough. To ask him what I did to make him feel this way. I’d ask but in a way I am afraid of the answer.
I’m sure I would be a great person, if only I wasn’t just like my mother.