Day 279: Phone Calls

Hello wild ones! I’m back at work today and my knee is actually feelin good, not back to normal by any means, but a million times better than the pain I was in on Sunday. Makes me feel even more foolish for going to the ER just to feel fine 2 days later…

I feel a bit emotional tonight. I received a very unexpected phone call earlier and it kind of fucked me up. Background info: I’m sure I mentioned a brief overview of my convoluted family, but just a quick recap…my mother had me out of wedlock (gosh that sounds silly), she met the man who I called my father when I was 1 and married him, they had 2 kids together and then got divorced when I was 10 or so, but he was still my father. I still called him my dad even after I found out that he was not my biological father, and up until I was 19 or so he was my father. And then things changed.

I stopped calling him Daddy and we just stopped speaking unless forced into each other’s company. It was easy to let him go. I’d always kind of felt like an outsider and that I wasn’t really his daughter anyway, so I told myself that I certainly did not need him. After their divorce he wasn’t the best father anyway, so I was better off without him. We still saw each other from time to time, I mean he is the father of my two siblings, we every once in a while we are thrown together and I feel this clutch in my chest thinking about what might have been.

It happens every time. I get nervous around him, like some little girl who only wants her father’s approval, so I make myself talk to him, but dear sweet Jesus does it hurt. Seeing him makes me wonder what my life would be like now if I had made sure that we stayed in contact. What would it be like to still be his little girl? Which is a silly thing to worry about at 26, I certainly do not need a father now. But it would be nice to have one.

He called me tonight, which is where all this crap comes from. He called just to chat and it felt so strange, yet comforting and normal. It’s not as if we had much to talk about, we’re virtual strangers now, have been for over 5 years, but just listening to him prattling on about his day made wish that I hadn’t let his cruel words and bad attitude push me away. Maybe I should have tried a little harder to make sure he stayed in my life. And that makes me angry.

Why do I always have to be the one who tries? It’s like I have this overwhelming desire to be rejected. Why must I always be the one who says sorry? Because I am so scared of telling people what I really think. I’m convinced if I assert myself that I’d end up losing everyone I love. I never get to hold onto anything. My sister once blocked my mother’s phone calls for just about 2 weeks because my mother had said something she didn’t want to hear. I could never do something like that. I’m the one who has to patch everything up and make sure everyone is getting along meanwhile they’re all doing things that irritate the fuck out of me and it’s like it doesn’t even matter.I let things go too easily. I’m never mad at anyone long. You can break my heart and two days later I’ll come running back for more pain. Glutton for punishment, that’s me.

See what I mean, one stupid 30 minute phone call and I feel like a wrung out paper towel. I dump a ton of feelings on you guys. I hope you know that if ever you feel like you need a shoulder to cry on I am here. So far we have had a very emotional and revealing year, but I’m glad every time I have one of these emotional break downs or break through that I have somewhere to express myself. Having this place is kind of the most important thing in my life right now. So thank you!

Until tomorrow, stay wonderfully wild!

Chels

 

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