Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Daddy Issues

So even though no one is reading this, I have decided to blog today. Today’s subject is about father. They say every little girl needs a dad in her life to show her a good male role model in her life. They say that a girl’s father is the most important man in her life, but I wouldn’t know that. So this song got me thinking…

This song has always stuck with me in my head because of my relationship – or shall I say the lack of one – with my own father. It always thought it was half my choice and half that he didn’t give a damn except to harass my mom since he only called a couple of times every other year saying he wanted to talk me them yelling at my mom when she said I didn’t want to speak to him, but last year he passed away and that got me thinking about the other half of my genetics.
So in December I decided to look up his obituary and see if could find out how he died since my mom didn’t know – she only found out when she filed her taxes last March. When I found it I was surprised to see that I was mentioned. I didn’t even think he remembered my full name never mind his family did that they put me as his child. My other family.

Now I wonder how much did he really care for me? My mom always told me that his side was worth nothing; whenever I messed up she would say I was one of them. To a child who only knew her father’s side as losers and jailbirds, this was as bad as a name you could say. But did he love me? Did he really want to meet me? His daughter.

I don’t know whose choice it was anymore for us to have no relationship. Was it mine or his? Or maybe – if my feelings are correct – it was my mom’s choice. They broke up before I was born but he was in my life for a little while after. I don’t know for how long, but I can say this, I have it on tape of him holding me at my baptism when I was three months old, and a picture of my older half sister standing next to me as I blew out the candles at my second birthday. Memory wise I only remember having forced visits with him when I was three or four in New Heaven (the town he lived in). After that it was the once every two years phone call in which he would ask to talk to me, I would say no (actually yell, scream, and have a fit that I wanted to be left alone), and he would threaten to bring my mom to court again because he claimed that she was the one not letting me talk to him. In some ways I think she was.

From the time I could remember New Haven was an ominous place because it meant him. From the time I could remember I have been told that his side was trashy losers (not stated that way but defiantly meant that way) who would all end up in jail like he had when he was younger (like in his twenties). From the time I could remember I feared becoming of them. A low life. Worth nothing. Crap.

A two/three/four year old doesn’t come up with that on its own. All my life that’s what my mom’s side has described my dad’s side and I took every word of it without question… that is until now.

I don’t blame my mom, she loves me and was probably protecting me by doing something she thought was right, but I don’t think it was. He remembered my name. His family did. A family who I thought didn’t give a crap about me. I looked up my half sister and found her on Facebook, but I don’t have the verve to friend or contact her. What if she really doesn’t care about me? But what if she does? I did some further research and found out that she attended a technical school. I know that doesn’t sound big, but this is a girl who lived in New Heaven, Connecticut. To me that means she didn’t want to go to a crap public school, so she tried for a school that would give her more of a chance. That shows me that she isn’t crap.

I want to contact that side of my family. I want to know how my father died. But I’m scared. Scared of what might happen if I am wrong. Scared of how my mom will feel about it. I still remember one of the mandatory visitations. My father had asked me if I knew how to write. I was three and proud of this accomplishment so I said yes. He asked me write my name on the blackboard. I was hesitant because I didn’t want to show too much interest, but I did it with prompting from him and the social worker. No big deal I thought. Well it wasn’t until I told my mom and grandmother as we got into our car to leave. She acted like I was told her that we had made friendship bracelets, told life stories, and braided each other’s hair from the way she was upset, saying along the lines that because I did that I wanted to be part of their family.

I didn’t, all I wanted to do was show that I could write my name. After that I was careful with my actions and made many loud and temper-tantrum throwing comments on how I didn’t want to see him every time we went for our mandatory visits. When he stopped showing up, I wasn’t forced to see him anymore. I never saw him in person again.

With in the last two or three years I have been thinking about that side, I had plans to contact him when I was in my twenties and situated so either way things went I would be ok. When he died that obviously changed. I wish I could speak with him. Find out the whole truth and not what truth my mother told me. I don’t believe she was trying to be mean, I just think she was so scared of losing me that she wanted to make him out to be the devil himself. Seriously, she calls him Lucifer or He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named when she refers to him!

She had to have loved him at some point; my mom was never a slut who jumped in bed with anyone. They had been dating for a couple of years before I was created. So doesn’t that mean there had to have been a good part of him? I found an old letter written from my mom to him. It was a love letter written saying that she loved him, and was only scared of him cheating on her again that why she was they way she was. That’s not good that he cheated on her, but she was so in love with him that she would take him back after cheating, that meant something.

I hope someday I do work up the never to contact my sister, but until then, I’ll just sit her and imagine how that side will be. No matter what my mom thinks they are my family too. That is if they want me.
– Carrie

P.S This is my favorite part of the song Confessions of a Broken Heart (Daughter to Father) by Lindsay Lohan, I relate most to it.

Daughter to Father, Daughter to Father
I don't know you, but I still want to
Daughter to father, Daughter to Father
Tell me the truth, did you ever love me?
Did you ever love me?
These are the Confessions, of a Broken Heart


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