Growing up I was very quiet, reserved, and always well behaved. My dad commonly used the word “stoic” when describing me to others and phrases such as “the good one” in contrast to my younger brother and sister. I made my bed every morning, helped mom around the house, did my homework with precision, and cleaned up after the disobedient ones. All that was okay for a little while. But by the time I was seven, I knew there was something wrong with dad.
I've spent the better part of my life wishing I didn't have someone to compare him to, thinking that if he'd always been this way it wouldn't hurt so much. I can't seem to stop hoping for the day I get my dad back: the guy who taught me how to ride a bike and throw a baseball, who shared his Fruity Pebbles with me while we watched Saturday morning cartoons, the only man I've ever been in love with. But the drinking, drugs, and dysfunction - they changed everything. And with it came a series of unfortunate events that left me in a crumpled heap of disorganization that has influenced every relationship I’ve ever had. I couldn’t be honest or open with people, and I certainly couldn’t trust them. I began compiling all my secrets in the recesses of my heart to mask the uncertainty I felt every day. They're funny things, secrets. At first …show more content…
If I didn't have expectations, I was the only one who could let me down. So I kept secrets. I can assure you I never wanted them, but before I could refuse I had seen and heard too much. I vacillated between crying myself to sleep because I was so angry with God and begging Him for strength to get through another day. Everything my blessed mother had ever taught me and all the Bible verses I committed to memory told me that this wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. I think I understood early on that because my dad was an unbeliever this was his punishment; what I didn’t understand was why I had to suffer
I've spent the better part of my life wishing I didn't have someone to compare him to, thinking that if he'd always been this way it wouldn't hurt so much. I can't seem to stop hoping for the day I get my dad back: the guy who taught me how to ride a bike and throw a baseball, who shared his Fruity Pebbles with me while we watched Saturday morning cartoons, the only man I've ever been in love with. But the drinking, drugs, and dysfunction - they changed everything. And with it came a series of unfortunate events that left me in a crumpled heap of disorganization that has influenced every relationship I’ve ever had. I couldn’t be honest or open with people, and I certainly couldn’t trust them. I began compiling all my secrets in the recesses of my heart to mask the uncertainty I felt every day. They're funny things, secrets. At first …show more content…
If I didn't have expectations, I was the only one who could let me down. So I kept secrets. I can assure you I never wanted them, but before I could refuse I had seen and heard too much. I vacillated between crying myself to sleep because I was so angry with God and begging Him for strength to get through another day. Everything my blessed mother had ever taught me and all the Bible verses I committed to memory told me that this wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. I think I understood early on that because my dad was an unbeliever this was his punishment; what I didn’t understand was why I had to suffer