Father's Day

So Father's Day was yesterday. I thought about calling my dad, but I never got around to it. I'm a huge Daddy's Girl at heart, but I feel like we just will never be what I want us to be. He'll never really be the father I want. I want someone who understands me and who understands what I've gone through and accept who I am without silently or not so silently judging me. I sometimes hope my mother dies before him in the hopes that maybe we could have a good relationship after that. But I think there's a serious rift that we can't mend. The abuse I went through is a very large part of who I am. It isn't something I'm willing to have someone dismiss or blame me for and he does both. It makes me feel victimized and frustrated. How can you explain that not taking pills made you deserve being hit on the head quite hard with a metal spoon? How can you explain you were so terrified you couldn't learn and deserved to be told you were stupid and then get hit when that didn't make you learn? How can you explain your mother has a side that he has never seen. Or seen only a glimpse of it when she threw a large book at me. And that is easily dismissed because she wasn't trying to hit me with it, just threw it "to" me so I could sign papers with it. You can't get past that mindset. I want to be able to have a relationship, but I know I can't because I'm just throwing myself at him when he will never see things in a different light. He will never understand what I went through. He will never choose my needs over her wants. I should have learned that a long time ago.
Then there's Steve. I miss him so much. He was someone who truly loved me and thought of me as his own daughter. I think of him on Father's Day and I feel an ache inside. I'll never be able to hug him again. He'll never show up and drag me off again. I'll never be able to see his face all lit up and proud and excited because I can't stop staring at his guns. I'll never go shooting with him and I'll never have one of his guns to shoot and remember him like he wanted. He was a damaged man. He had so many problems and I never saw that side of him, but I loved him so much. He was kind to me. He loved me. He's gone. I'm tearing up just thinking of him. I've never recovered from his death. I don't think I ever will. My mind is still where it was before going into the room for the viewing. Unwilling to walk through. Unable to face the truth. Unable to face down my denial and acknowledge that he really is dead. I just push those feelings aside. I cope. I can't deal. I can't sort through it. I'm afraid to unlock everything that I keep hidden because I honestly don't know if I could survive it.
I'm glad there are some people I see that are good fathers. I'm glad Justin grew up unscathed enough emotionally to be a good father and a wonderful husband. I'm so proud of him. I'm proud he's my brother. I'm glad we both grew up and could get along. I'm glad I look forward to his weekly calls. I don't like having anything going on when he usually calls because I don't want to be distracted or have to cut it short. I wish we lived closer and I could get T used to me so I could finally be an Aunt. Maybe when he's older he'll be okay with me and that would be awesome.
I'm dreading testifying about what I saw while being surrogate mommy to Brian and Renee's kids...plus a slew of others. I don't want to deal with the backlash that will probably come when Bethel finds out what I've done. I have no problem telling her off if/when she gets in my face about it. But I don't relish it. I don't enjoy confrontation. And I don't enjoy having people talk about me behind my back. I know she'll gossip about me and what I said. I know I'll be judged for it. People will say I don't understand what parenting is like. The demands that are on mothers. I understand them. She wasn't living up to them and neglected her children and the children of others. I won't be silent. Not if I can help those children. But I don't want them to hate me and I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to get them to.