Reiterated Disappointment
Weeks vanish. I turn around,and witness that already a third of the year flew by unnoticed. Finals are approaching, and I’m already preparing, and intensifying my studies. I’ve been particularly good, not falling behind this semester. I want to be on time, not at the last minute, in my school work for once. It’s taking a lot out of me as I battle my instant gratification ADD brain. My night medication is already kicking in, and I’m mustering my focus to poor my heart in writing.
It’s been a few weeks that I was expecting to hear from my dad knowing he would return from his snowbird trip this month. As much as I tried to remember to message him, I only took action today. I found out he was back for the past three weeks, but didn’t get any news from him. I swiftly called to catch-up, and apologised for not having reached out sooner. I soon found out he had already seen my brother, and my half-sister, but I didn’t receive a single message from him. I was surprised so I lightly asked why he did communicate that he had returned. He responded that he didgive me the dates of his arrival on previous communications, but couldn’t recall if it was in a conversation or in writing. While stretching my memory to its boundaries this semester, I would have appreciated a reminder, or even just a message to say hello. Though no exchanges occurred except when he tested his WhatsApp account, and sent me a few lines.
Yes, I was avoidant in the past, and didn’t communicate a lot. The discomfort we feel when we’re interacting is palpable. St witnessed my nervousness talking to him, and visiting him. I’ve made no secrets of the fact that I’m not close to my dad. Though, on my last family visit with St, I thought I made progress, and that my attempt at a connection was successful. I was sorely mistaken. There’s a reason that I avoided my dad, and that’s because I always got hurt. He has a gift to, on one hand, pretend that he’s an available person, when on the other hand, he will disregard you almost contemptuously. It’s unbelievably confusing as an adult, and I can better understand how much his behaviour affected me as a child. I’ve seen my dad pull that act with my mom countless times, and she was devastated at every occurrence.
At this point, I have enough maturity, knowledge, and awareness to know it’s not my fault. This type of gaslighting won’t work. I did express my disappointment, frustration, and sadness to St. He was supportive as always, and it helped coping with another paternal emotional blow. No matter how many years I’ve experienced this, it still hurts. From observing theloving presence of St’s parents, I know that my father is the problem. I may not be the best at maintaining on going messaging, but I’m not completely distant. I guess it’s time to go back to the old “special days only” phone communication regime. I will reiterate my personal quote when it comes to my relationships with my relatives:
“When you’ll be interested in me, and not the opinion you have of me, I’ll be there.”
Gratitude journal:
I’m grateful for wisdom.
