This month I turned 32. I have the most amazing life and its a privilege to make another 365 days around the sun. This past year has seen a lot of up and downs. So i count my blessings every day.
I decided that i’d write about something a little more difficult than normal – although last months was pretty tough. Its more of that pulpy lemony stuff, that you try to sift through, but its not always easy.
This month i wanted to write about abandonment. When a father abandons a daughter – more specifically me. Because I can’t talk about any experience other than my own.
For almost 18 years we’ve had little to no contact with our real father. The dad I refer to is my step dad. He’s an amazing man – taking on not only my mum and my sister and I- but all of my extended family. Like its nothing. 21 years and counting as a blended family and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
My “old man” is my Papa. My Papa – was a marshmallow – bit burnt on the outside, but so soft on the inside – growing up i wanted for nothing. My Papa always gave me what needed – and that included pushing me at school and giving me the odd slap or two!
I have a few very amazing uncles who have always been apart of my life, from the moment I was born. Fun fact is that my god father was the first person I opened my eyes for. We’ve been like two pea’s in a pod ever since and he is hands down my most favourite human in the world, he gets me like no one else.
My 3 other uncles who I adore – spoil me to this day. They all show me what I want in a man. Hard working, cheeky, funny, respectful men, who love their families, each in their own ways. They aren’t perfect. But, I can’t fault them. They stepped up along with my step dad and papa and raised me and my sister- when they didn’t have too. They’ve been there every step of the way. From my first high school ball. Teaching me and taking me for my drive test. Helping with school essays and speeches, making sure every boy in town knew they were my uncles! So no boy ever made me cry. They sometimes know me better then I know myself. One will make me tea, the other will give me a beer and the third one, well we sit outside and don’t say much to each other. But the silence is love in itself.
I wrote last month about confidence and how things and time changes your perspective on things, and I think dealing with the loss of someone who is still living – but you have no contact with – is similar. Over time your perspective on the person and your need for validation from them shifts. How you view things changes, and the same fears you may have about your body, are the same fears you have about people and relationships. Everything is intertwined.
Until recently I was always telling my siblings, that other peoples memories of our real father, were theirs and theirs alone – and how we felt was different based on knowing him on a different level. But now, now I call bullshit on myself for that. My siblings had come to a place where they could invite him in and have a cuppa and conversation with him if he was to ever show up… I always thought deep down i’d be able to do that too, but the truth is. I can’t. I’m always advocating the #youdoyou motto, and the thing is – I can’t allow someone who has chosen consciously to not be apart of my life. To walk back in – to want to sit at a table – he hasn’t helped me build – to discuss what life has been like?
There are scars left from him, deep ones. There is no right way to grieve those. But for me, too much times gone past, too many moments. Good, bad, heartbreaking, life changing or otherwise – to allow him into my world. I don’t care how you sell it or justify it, its not right for a man to leave his children. To walk out one day and not come back and make no attempt to contact them. I’m lucky, to be surrounded by the men in my life that I am.
People often would say to me when I was younger how hard I must of been to not have our dad around, to that I say – there was nothing hard about it. Who can say that they are literally surrounded by a group of men, who would give their lives for you. Who even once your an adult, care and protect you. Encourage and fiercely believe you can achieve anything you want too. Who can say that when your soul is tired. That when you go to their homes – which is your home, that these big gruff men very literally pick you up and put you to bed, or spend the day watching you sleep, because they are worried about you. Even with their no bullshit attitudes, they are there for me. Always.
I’m notorious for pulling the pin with any relationship with someone that could actually mean something, cause – well I don’t want them to be the one that turns around one day and leaves. I don’t want anyone to consciously decide that I’m not worth enough. So i do it first. Or I keep it in a box – because then it can’t be any more, just keep it one dimensional, even when there is feelings. I’m trying hard to not be so gun-shy but its not that easy, its like a ghost that hasn’t found the light yet.
Working on being a better version of me isn’t perfect, and I’m always learning new things about myself, my mindset and who I’m comfortable being. I know a few things now, and one of them is that our real dad leaving had nothing to do with me, who I am or who I’ve become. I know who I am, where I am from and who I love and will protect just as fiercely as they do me. I know that I am smart, and witty and caring and loving to those who love me. I know that I am worthy of being with someone who respects me for me. Who digs me for me – faults and all. There’s no point looking in the mirror hoping to be someone else with a different set of circumstance, because ” comparison is the thief of joy”
But above all, 18 years on. If he knocked on the door. He’d find someone who is happy. because I truly am. I said it at the beginning and I’ll say it again. I love my life.
Them Thighs 