Old Wounds

I miss my dad.

That's hard for me to say, and I really couldn't tell you what makes it so.

I think about him all the time, always have and probably always will.  But I don't always miss him, at least not in the way that makes me ache.  And it's been a very long time since I have felt this way.  But lately, I miss him in exactly that way.  It makes me uncomfortable.  It makes me angry.

Since July or so I have been grappling with some pretty intense anxiety. It was mild at first, but it has spiraled wildly beyond anything I have ever experienced.  I don't really talk about it.  I have had exactly one conversation about this with two of my friends.  But not much beyond that.  It feels as though my anxiety triggers something inside me, something I relate to my dad.  My reactions to certain situations, my feelings, my responses...it's giving me a sort of out of body experience, I'm watching myself deal with some difficult emotions from outside myself.  I watch myself and for the first time I feel like I'm seeing pieces of my dad.  But not in a good way.

And all at the same time I want to hate him, be angry, cry, and hug him and have him tell me it's all going to be okay.

I miss him.  I don't want to miss him. I like being in the state of acceptance I have been in for years, but somehow I lost that.  And nights like tonight it feels like he died all over again and I am so mad. Mad that he left, mad that I have his DNA, mad that I can't talk to him, mad that I can't hug him, mad that he doesn't know my children or my husband.

I don't know what to do with all this.  All this anxiety, all these old wounds opened.  It is so deeply complicated.  I can't bring myself to actually vocalize how I'm feeling.  I can type a few words on a keyboard, but I'm barely scratching the surface.

I try to remember the good.  There was so much of it.  But the bad, even though its over, was so bad that it still threatens to swallow me whole sometimes.

I'm fighting so hard for that not to happen. So hard.  It's a lonely battle.  I'm fighting it alone.  Because I am not my dad.  I am NOT my dad.  His past is not going to define me, no matter how much it tries.

But still, despite the anger and anxiety, I really miss my dad.