Wicked Wicked Tongue

New space pics were published recently. Now, if this doesn't make you feel small I don't know what will. 

"Play me something tragic, in that broken voice... all heaven is weeping, speaking in that broken voice...all you have to kill it with, was a wicked tongue."

This song would play and wail during my nightmares years ago. The imagery was always dark. Streaks of dark blue and turquoise, someplace deep in the woods. I would be sneering the words into the ears of the frightened. After bearing the brunt of their abuse, there was always a point I found some sort of internal strength in rebuttal. Bloodied and bruised, there was always a point that I would still in my dream, start singing this song. The point of defeat was always near, but not quite. Taunting, as if to say 'do you think that's going to do me in?'

Then I'd wake up. 

Only now these words have been spoken. As I live and breathe awake. As if I'm standing in front of the Goblin King himself to say "you have no power over me." Not so long ago a drunken little man stood before me, wobbling back and forth angry that I had called him out on some bullshit. There was no disrespect, just an honest reflection on the situation which his ego couldn't handle. He postured. He took a step closer, clenched fists and tight lips. If I was a child, much as I used to do, I would have retreated and hid. But this man, much like before no longer looked like he had so many years ago. My father was gone. A hollow fragile drunk man stood before me, as I took a step closer. "What are you going to do, hit me?" I said it. My voice didn't falter or quake. I remember feeling like he had lost all power over me. I lost my father. Figuratively.

I say this now, 4 or so years later, as he's actively wallowing in his own demise. I can't stand by and be an active participant in his self victimization with alcoholism and terminal illness. This is unfortunate. Wildly unfortunate. But... I had to make the decision that if I'm working through the trauma he's caused me with therapy and all the modalities, while he continues the same destructive path, and I keep him in my life, then I'm a damn idiot. I drew boundaries which he tried to break, and again only to feign ignorance and victimization once called out. I will not say I don't have the strength, because I have it in spades. However, I will say that it no longer serves me to keep dishing out that energy expecting to not be sucked dry. It's not even that I expect anything in return. I don't want to bleed out anymore. 

I've had to go no contact with my father, and I'm okay with it. 

It's a strange place to be estranged from both parents for varying reasons. With Sue/egg donor, that was almost easier considering she tried to kill me. That's black and white. When people say "but she's your mother" and my response is "yeah, but she tried to break my neck" there aren't any valid responses that could make me question whether or not I've done the right thing. But please, if you feel you have a valid reason, let me know. I'll make sure to tell you that you're stupid. (sorry, I'm slightly spicy today, clearly). 

On the other hand, my father has been a slow burn. A slow burn of exposure to inappropriate situations, and events, the misguided responsibility and burden of his actions to fall upon my shoulders, and the holder of secrets that no girl should need to carry. It's also harder when this is the last parent you felt was your safety net. Knowing that the net is gone is scary. What's scarier though is knowing it's never been there. Here is where I'd tangent on about resiliency, but I've done that far too many times, and it's something that no one should ever have to repeatedly tap into to survive. But knowing the one parent that you, for so fucking long, held on to as the good parent then realizing they were just 'not as bad' as the other parent is soul crushing. It's core shaking, viewpoint changing bullshit. But it was necessary. It was needed, and while it was hard... so fucking hard... I would do it again. 

The wonderful thing about a reflection is that you really get to see beyond your shoulders. You can see the past. Usually with clarity. To see things for what they are and what they were. It's not free of pain, but it's a reminder that you can do this because you've done it already. 

There is nothing you keep there is only your reflection (yes, another stolen lyric)

xoxo

but yes, play me something.. tragic... in your broken voice.