Depression

I want the earth to open and swallow me up. I would like to be decomposed, to feel all of my molecules seperating and blending into the universe, too cease existing as myself.

Divorcing my father.

I'm struggling tonight. Really struggling. I always think of myself as one who doesn't cry very often, but maybe that isn't true. What is normal, when it comes to crying? Tearing up every few weeks? All-out sobbing three or four times a year? Anyway. I'm tearing up a little bit now and that always shocks me. Emotion, begone to your usual dark corner and behave thyself.

Evidently I like to share my private life with the Internet. There are some risks there, but you know what, if I talk long enough in real life, this stuff always comes out anyway. I think I have some social filter issues. At least on here you don't have to read it, and you can avoid uncomfortable responses to an over-sharer, lol.

So tonight, because I am struggling, I am going to share something involving not just my private life but a few peoples' private lives. I don't know who all reads this, but chances are if you know me, you also know my father. Small towns are awesome that way.

So my dad. Did you know he was abusive? Yeah, neither did I until a couple years ago. I was doing research for a seperate issue and found myself reading apt descriptions of my family in a book called "The Batterer as a Parent." And apt descriptions of my father, words he said, things he did, in plain black and white print upon the page before me. Wow. And suddenly, things started making sense. My little sister as the scapegoat, my older sister the protector, my younger brother, the apprentice, and me, the golden child. This stuff hurts, it really does. I can't tell you how much it hurts. I still have to remind myself...normal fathers don't announce their children's pregnancies to their fellow students...they don't use their body and their anger to scare and threaten, to go to devious means to belittle their children's mother and destroy a connection. See, even now though, I feel like typing that out, although they are true, I feel like I am betraying my father. There is still that child in me that wants to run to him and get his approval, to prove I can be a worthy daughter. She wants to tell him, "Dad, THANK you for everything! Thank you for teaching me how to camp! Thank you for encouraging my reading! Thank you for all the ways you've helped me when I've struggled! See, I can be a good girl! See!"

I don't know how to tell that little girl that despite all those good things, she didn't really matter to that man. It was part of his efforts to maintain an  image. Such an involved father! How lucky those kids are! I suspected for a long time, not long after my daughter was born, that the only reason my father had anything to do with me was so he could play grandpa. I was just grateful that he was there. I didn't mind being used for his never-ending ego stroke. When my brother got into trouble as a young adult, he didn't want me to tell anyone. So I didn't. Well, I tried not to. Things started coming out regardless, and then who got a call and a lecture? Me. A grown woman with two kids, feeling like a young child who had just gotten caught stealing cookies or something because I respected the privacy of another adult. How dare I not promote our family's image at the cost of my own sanity and the boundaries of another.

That isn't even the worst of it. There was another person he hurt, who I love dearly, and he has the audacity to blame his actions on that person. That she wanted to be hurt. This is a child, mind you. I don't know that I can get any more detailed than that, but let it be known my father is a liar, a narcissist, and out for his own self-interests no matter who else pays for it. He has a lot to lose, my father. Maybe not as much as he once did...I wrote a letter to our Bishop and the head of the Diaconate Program. I get the impression they do not take me very seriously, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore. I can't go to our church anymore either. I am terrified of running into someone, running into him, or my stepmother. It's pretty terrible that she has to be mixed up in this. I love her, my stepmom. I think she is a wonderful person. I'd be friends with her any day. Maybe someday I'll write her a letter, and let her know that what I did, it had nothing to do with her.

I'm going all over the place with this, please forgive me.

So I was done pretending. I mean, honestly, how long can one go on, ranting about abuse left and right, while having one right there, insulting one's husband, condescending about one's beliefs, and (the gall of it) shamelessly telling you that not only is he NOT the abusive one, but that every ex girlfriend, the ex wife, and his children abused him? Does he think I am stupid? That may be the one part that I just don't understand. I think my father is perfectly aware of right and wrong. But is he so self-absorbed that he thinks if he says it, it become truth? That I won't see through it? He knows how much I've been learning about this stuff. This is my LIFE lately. Weird.

So. I wrote him a letter one night, after he called and invited the whole family to tea the following week. My husband had told him that he was not going to see him anymore. I had kept going to things, visits, I felt like it wouldn't be fair for me to keep the kids from their grandpa, I couldn't bring myself to confrontation. But it was tearing me apart inside. Every time I saw him, it was harder to keep pretending nothing was wrong when I could now see through the illusion. I hated that he was always re-writing history. My husband detailed that he felt disrespected; my father did a perfect non-apology. Do you know what a non-apology is? "I'm sorry you feel that way."  As in, "Sucks to be you because I refuse to think that maybe I did something wrong." And then my father pretended it didn't happen. I suppose in his mind, he was extending an olive branch by inviting Josh over too. Really what it was though, was "You called me out on bad behavior, and I'll still show you generosity as long as you are willing to never call me out again, because I'm awesome that way."

I went the passive route. I just stopped seeking him out, for one.  I started screening his calls, didn't answer his messages. I worried what the next step would be. And, he showed up. He came to my home, bearing gifts, said he was worried about me when I didn't call him back. Normal concerned father. Yep. Until he started going on about how he hurt he was about it. I fudged something about the kids being sick and I've been out of touch (this was true) and he kept going on about how hurt he was that I would not call him back. Then my stepmother told me that I was giving him the silent treatment, and that it was abuse. She told me that I was abusive, in front of my children, because I didn't call my father back for a week.

After they left, I sat down and I typed out the letter and I sent it to him. I detailed my reasons, explained that it was for purposes of my own closure, and that I did not want to hear or see from him again.

Even reading this I feel that part of me that is just outraged that I could do such a thing. He is my father.

And I am surrounded by reminders. Notes to the kids inside their favorite books. Things they gave us. My youngest daughter was asking about him today. I just feel mean. And spiteful. And ungrateful. My older sister, when I was telling her that I didn't want to see him anymore but before I sent the letter, she told me that she thinks I feel this way out of anger and hatred. I said no. I mean, not that I don't have anger, I do have anger. I feel like my dad has broken our family beyond repair. I do not feel safe around my brother, my younger sister will have nothing to do with me, and I feel like a pawn in my dad's game of looking good to the community. I said I love him. I do love him. I love my father. I didn't want this. I didn't ask for it. I tried to hold it together. I tried. So hard. It was tearing me up inside. And who was I protecting? Not my children. Certainly not myself. I was protecting him, from his own actions. She said you can't love a person and do that to them. I have to remind myself...it is not something I am doing to him. It is something I have to do for myself.

I don't regret what I've done, exactly. There is a large amount of relief involved now. No more pretending.

Now the daunting task of going forward.

Young Mothers.

I went to a Reconciliation service a few weeks ago during Lent. My mom went with me, and my two older kids stayed home with my husband. I took the baby, since he's literally attached to my breast a majority of the day and has absolutely no idea what to do with a bottle. I don't mind one bit.

While waiting in line to speak to the Priest, my mother and I were talking and I saw my little one smiling over my shoulder. I turned around and there was an older woman making faces at him. I smiled at her and we started some small talk. Which I am terrible at, by the way. I mumbled things about not knowing which priest to see. Anyway, babies happen to be good for chatting, thank goodness. Especially when they are in good moods and like to smile at older ladies; until she said, "I assume this is your first!"

Cue familiar awkwardness. I look younger than I am, for one thing, or so I have been repeatedly told. I am 25. When my husband and I spent our wedding night at a hotel, I was sitting outside taking in the scenery and the lady in the room next to us waited for my husband to go inside and asked me in a very concerned tone if I was ok. I'm sure it looked like I was an underage naive child who had been whisked away by the scary-looking man (he can look scary, I'll grant you that, and he is obviously older than I am). I assured her I was of age and that we had just been married. I'm not sure she was satisfied.

Anyway. I smiled and told the woman in church that no, actually, he was my third and my oldest is almost seven years old (I may have left out that particular in this instance, I just said he was my third). I'm well-versed in the reaction to this; peoples' smiles freeze, the air becomes heavy, their eyes begin to glaze over a tad bit. Then the uncomfortable laughter and glancing at my ring finger. Often, the exclamation that I am "too young to be a mother!" I have learned to counter this by saying it first. "I know, I'm too young to be a mother." That's generally when the conversation ends in these little chance meetings, and yes, I'd rather have the last word.

Because it's true and I do know it. I am too young to be a mother. I was always too young to be a mother. I look at my oldest daughter and I see someone I grew up alongside, not someone I am raising. I was too young. All those stereotypes of teen mothers? I fit some of them. I live in poverty. I have not finished college. I married young. I am on government assistance sucking up all your tax dollars. I've dug myself into a hole that just keeps getting deeper.

I suppose every parent grieves for the life they had before. All those possibilities, opportunities, good memories of great and carefree times. Flexibility, freedom, whatever.

I grieve those too at times. I never had them to begin with, but I'm hardly the exception to the reality of deciding to be the caregiver of another human being.

I chose to be a mom and I chose it happily and I am glad I did. Even if I am too young.

Spiritual Crisis

I'm having some trouble.

I want to love my church. There are so many positively beautiful aspects of it that I can't ignore. I love the Saints, I love the Mass, I love the tradition. I love the words of Jesus and the Apostles (most of the time lol). Love it love it love it.

What I don't love? I don't love an inherently patriarchal institution who does not seem willing to help those of its flock who are being hurt by clergy. I don't love that it's affected me personally now, that their need for clergy overrides the spiritual health of myself and my family. It is not fair and it's not right and I don't know how to reconcile. My pastor, I love him. He doesn't know. I've approached it tentatively with him, that I have doubts about scripture and I am struggling with family, but nothing specific. He tells me trust in God, have faith. It's not faith in God I lack. It's in seeing God in the Church that I'm having trouble with.

When I don't go to Mass I feel loss. The idea of not baptizing my youngest child hurts. When I think of the possibility of not raising my children into the faith, attending church, receiving Communion and Confirmation (if they chose to do so) it makes my heart ache. Yet what are my options? We can't afford to attend church in a different parrish. And even if we could, it would be there, in the back of my mind, that this is the institution that protects those who should not be protected and leaves the wounded in the cold.

 I can't fathom going to another religion. I know it seems ridiculous that a rational human being could believe entirely that a human man can be a conduit with which to make bread and wine become Divine. I understand that the idea is entirely laughable. Why do I hang on? I've met many people now who don't believe. That makes sense to me. However, I've also noticed that for many, belief is not something you can "grow", but rather something that is either with you or isn't. Those who don't believe sometimes try, earnestly, but it's no use and they are more fulfilled when they acknowledge it just isn't there. There is of course nothing wrong with that. My beliefs about God (which are, perhaps, not entirely Catholic) tend to be that my perception of Him/Her is all-encompassing to any human being who strives to do good and to love their fellow human beings. And that He/She knows every heart and connects with them on individual terms. I think we will be ok.

Yet being Catholic feels like an inherent trait in me. Something I don't think I could divorce myself from. But then again, I never thought I could divorce my own flesh and blood, and I've done that. It wasn't as hard as I feared it would be. Would divorcing my faith be as fulfilling? Or will it do the opposite, and create a vacuum of unfulfilled need in my soul?

Where do I go from here?