In June, it will be two years since I wrote a blog regarding my issues surrounding the hurt, pain, disappointment, and resentment towards my dad. I vowed to let go of my anger and choose forgiveness over resentment. I feel like now is the time to give an update as to where I’m at with all of that. Check out the initial blog I wrote regarding my “daddy issues” here: http://bethiej.blogspot.com/2012/02/letting-go-and-letting-god-my-personal.html
Early last year, I decided to finally stop being the one to pursue the relationship with my dad. I always called, always was the one who kept in contact. I was curious as to what might happen when I chose not to do so. It was no surprise to me when it was over four months before he even called me, and even then I decided to not take the call. Another few months went by before he called again. Again, I decided to ignore it.
Fast forward to summer of 2011. My dad’s wife calls and leaves a very vague voicemail that went something like this: “Beth, this is Donna [insert pause], your stepmom...please call me.” First of all, let me be sarcastic for a moment. Donna, my stepmom? Hmm…could you give me more information? That doesn’t ring a bell. Oh, I know who you are now. You’re the one who refers to yourself as my wicked stepmother, aka “wsm.” She never calls me. In fact, that might have been the first time in the 13+ years she and my dad have been together that she has called me. I have no desire to talk to her, much less my dad so I ignored the call.
A week later, I get a message from my sister saying that she needs to talk to me about our dad and that it was very important. Well, for those of you who don’t know, I’m not really close with my sister. She has made so many bad choices that hurt her boys and her family (and continues to do so) and she continues to want our dad’s love, affection, and attention at any cost. To say we’re polar opposites is an understatement. Anyway, that’s another story for another day. Later in the day I find out that, according to my sister, my dad is in the hospital and has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in his small intestine. Now, if you’re diagnosed with stage 4 cancer that means you’re at the end and that it has spread to the point where it’s incurable. So, I call my dad’s wife (I still refuse to refer to her as my stepmom) and she tells me the same thing with a few more details. According to her, the doctors were taking him into surgery that night to take out part of his small intestine.. Then, all of the sudden, my sister says it’s “touch and go” and that he’s practically on his death bed. She rushes off to be at his side.
WSM later updated me and said the doctors said they thought they got it all and things were looking up. He’d need a few months of chemotherapy and should then pretty much have a clean bill of health. Come to find out, my dad never really was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. Sure, he may have had cancer in his small intestine, and did have some of it taken out (I’m supposing), but it was WSM who “diagnosed” the stage 4 herself. In fact, he was not on his death bed. She continually fed us all with these bogus statements. Why would she want to make the situation bigger and more horrid than it really was? You got me...
Since the surgery, my dad had several complications such as blood clots and infection. Well, we went home after the surgery to basically lay down and die. Instead of being thankful that he had another chance at life, he sulked and moped around. He needed everyone to feel sorry for him. He spent many months in and out of the hospital for various issues because he wasn't taking care of himself.
A few months after the surgery, my sister moved with her boys because she just had to be there to help dad out. Again, for those who don’t know the whole story, my sister practically let her boys live with my mom and stepdad. Those boys spent at least 5 of 7 nights a week at my parent’s house. Collectively, we all stepped up to be “parents” to those boys in different ways to help buffer the fact that their own mom wasn’t interested in being the best parent. This was their home and my sister ripped them from what they knew for very selfish reasons. In fact, she only wanted to be a parent when it was convenient for her or when she got something out of it. Hmm, sound familiar?!
Back to the story. I still hadn’t talked to my dad in many months, even after the surgery. The weekend we were taking the boys on a camping trip before taking them to Ft. Worth and leaving them there (hardest day of my life!), WSM shows up at our house. She enlists 4 year old Clay to entice me to come outside. First of all, I was busy trying to gather things together for our camping trip, and secondly, I had nothing to say to her. It wasn’t until she stuck her head in the door and yelled out my name that I finally came outside to face her. I knew this was the time that I needed to stand up and be strong…to be honest and say what I was feeling. Now, I go outside and am greeted with a hug. Before you think that’s sweet, let me just say that I’ve never hugged WSM, ever. She’s not that type of person. And the hug was not a warm, friendly hug. It was her trying to show her dominance by squeezing me very, very tight. I stood there limp, not lifting an arm to hug her. She continues to basically get to the point of why I haven’t talked to my dad. After telling her that it was none of her business and was between my dad and I, she wouldn’t let up. I told her several times that I would contact HIM directly when I was ready to talk to him. She then tried to put a guilt trip on me and basically said, “So, if your dad doesn’t get to come out of the hospital, you have nothing to say to him? Are you sure you won’t regret not saying something to him if he doesn’t make it out alive?” Are you kidding me?! I finally just laughed it off and told her that she could think whatever she wanted to and that I was done talking. It felt so freeing to finally speak my mind and stand up. I wasn’t mean, I was just straight forward and honest.
Fast forward to November. My mom, stepdad, and I went to Thanksgiving in Ft. Worth. To say it was awkward to all be in the same house at the same time is an understatement. However, I had some hope (come to find out it was false hope) that my dad may have really been turning his life around. I thought he was realizing that he was given a second chance and was going to make some changes.
We then spent two weeks at Christmas in Ft. Worth (including my mom, stepdad, brother, and his girlfriend who’s like my sister). While I wasn’t fully convinced my dad had changed, I was open to seeing what would happen. It seemed like he was really wanting to do the right thing and all. Turns out, it was all a crock. He once again let me down and I was left disappointed. I was so mad at him, but more upset with myself that I’d even open myself up to all that again. I felt like I took so many steps back from where I had been. I let my guard down only to be hurt by him again. He wasn’t turning around or changing for the better. He was still the same dad who never had my best interest at heart and let me down time and time again throughout my life. I don’t know which hurt more: realizing the first time that my dad was a selfish person and lived his life for himself alone, or opening up and being vulnerable a second time and ultimately being let down.
I feel like I’ve had to start completely over with truly letting go. It’s much, much harder this time. I have more anger, more resentment, and more hurt. I know that none of those feelings benefit me, nor do they hinder my dad in any way. They do, in fact, only become obstacles in my life that burden me from becoming the person God intended for me to be. Those things I know, I truly do. However, it’s one thing to know them and another thing to get past them, overcome them. That’s where I feel like I’m stuck. So bad, I want to just truly let it all go and start the new chapter in my life. It seems like with every step I take to try to do so, I’m afflicted with something else that prevents me from moving past all this. I know that I can’t have a healthy relationship with any guy until I deal with this, much less a marriage and family. It’s unfair to get involved with someone when I’m unable to truly be emotionally healthy.
I have decided to write my dad a letter to fully express my feelings, not to get answers. It's a step in the direction of healing, but I don't know how he'll even take it or if he will even care.
As you can see, I’m a pretty open person. I do find that writing out my innermost feelings and dealings helps to sort things out for me and eventually leads to healing. I know this isn’t the end of my story, but it’s really hard to see past this right now. Your input, advice, and prayers are all welcomed.