Drama Queen: The Interpretation of a Misogynist

Even if that kid is your internal child.....

 

The past few weeks have been weird. I'm tired, and that soul crushing exhaustion won't break it's hold. Neither showers nor sleep can break it. It needs time, sun and warmth to shed this gross winter layer. It will happen. It just takes time. For now I'm trying to embrace the ick, but it's thick, and it keeps piling on. like tar on wings, I feel like it's pulling me down. I'm trying, and I know I will fly, but for now I'm just trying to breathe. 

Today I decided to get my ass back to the beach and sit for a moment. The first time to sit and think for the year, I knew it was long overdue. I missed that feeling of being small against something so large, and unassuming. The smallness in this manner is necessary, but when it's inflicted by another, holy shit does it hurt. That feeling of smallness is comforting when you've been made to feel small your entire life. But there comes a point where you must break through and feel BIG every now and again. The funny thing about minimizing yourself to fit small spaces, is that those who benefit from the extra space don't like it when you take that back. A few days ago, I took back my space.

I've made it no secret that my childhood was a steaming pile of shit. I didn't realize how problematic it really was until I had my own child which made me wonder "I love him so, and  I would never let happen to him what happened to me, then why did my parents do what they did?" It was easy to understand with my mother, given who/what she is, but these questions were difficult to admit to myself with my father. I make no excuses for him at this point because I'm not his protector. I'm not just "letting it go" and hot damn do I have a problem with accepting it as what it was, because it feels awfully dismissive. If this isn't healthy then I'm clearly not at a point in my life, or therapy, that I'm okay with it just "being".

The reason behind this is that I found out that my dad started drinking again. My entire life has been him in this cyclic holding pattern of lies, dirt trails and wagons and being on/off again. I've written about one traumatic event that's hung with me for years, but there are plenty others. If you've lived through it yourself, you know that it's never an isolated incident. 

I've grown tired of praising his good behaviors and actions when most of my childhood I never got that. Petty? Maybe, but as a child needing support and realizing that your grandparents are the only reason for your resiliency, it's really hard to be fully supportive. I could no longer coddle conversations with my father. I lashed out. I set clear boundaries that included my son. He did not like this. You see, when you set a boundary that has historically been violated, when it's finally raised, it looks like an attack. I brought up real life events as justification for my actions, to which he replied, "oh don't be a drama queen; bringing shit up from the past." Then he hung up. I haven't talked to him since. It's been a week, and frankly, I really don't give a shit at this point. Harsh? Probably, but for the sake of my mental health, I need this estrangement. 

 Being called a drama queen by a man who's been misogynistic my entire life is rich, and ironic, and if by the grace of god he stumbles across this, remember:

Call me a drama queen all you want, because to me it sounds a lot like "I'm unable to fess up to my wrongdoings and accept responsibility for the shitty actions and situations I put you and your brother in, and I cannot apologize for them".

It's always been incredibly hard seeing my friends being supported and loved by their parents. To have someone who you can go to regardless of the situation and to feel safe is so fucking foreign to me. To know that you will be loved unconditionally, and supported it's a wild notion. It's a weird flex to have no fucking clue what that feels like. I will freely admit to all my friends now that I am positively jealous of their relationships with their parents. Jealous in a good way, because I can at least see what it looks like. Feeling it is another thing altogether. 

                            But on a happy note: here's a jam that makes me smile, and sing along loudly to..                                                     in my car... with the windows all the way up...