May 16, 2013
To Dad, With Love:
I pulled the oldest out of school today. We needed to do something
different. I needed to do
something different. I’ve been
stuck in a depressive rut for the last, I don’t know-months. I’m crabby times 100; I’m walking through
days on the edge of insanity; I’m nearing a nervous breakdown; a powder keg
primed and itching to blow.
(Sorry…I don’t know how else to write it except with that rubbish). Today was the day because last night
was the night. Last night I blew
over nothing. I yelled at her and
she cried. She panicked, would
have done anything to please me and make it stop. It didn’t last long; I was back in control in a minute. But it will haunt me for a long, long
time. And I know you know what I
mean.
You probably aren’t surprised that this episode reminded me
of you. But I want to tell you
that it wasn’t for the reason you may think-I wasn’t ashamed that I had
repeated what must be some of your more humiliating episodes. I thought of you because I understand
you. I’ve been thinking about you
a lot lately and this reinforced what I had assumed: there but for the grace of god go I. Or rather: there but for a few small but key circumstances go I. I’m on two anti-depressants and I acted
like a fool. What could you have
done had your illness been addressed?
You were so close to pulling it off. What could you have done with the freedom I have, the
freedom to explore your mind? You
had the suffocating burden of this illness and had to provide for a family. What would I be now if I was staring
down the barrel of a lifetime of that responsibility? You’ve said you are proud of what I’ve become. Am I not what you could have been if a
few zigs had zagged instead?
Anyway, here I am now, needing to do what you couldn’t. I need to fix myself before I lose the
only things that really matter.
And of course I have what I like to think is a better than fighting
chance because I have all those things that you didn’t. Listen to this now…I’ve said it before
and meant it but I REALLY mean it now.
I forgive you. I know that
our past had nothing to do with me and everything to do with you; that you were
yelling into the yawning, starving mouth in your soul, “You are a piece of
shit! You are a fraud! You can’t do this! You’ll never make it!” One of the things that makes my
situation different than yours is that I know that’s what I’m now yelling and I
don’t think you did. And because I
do know that I was able to take the kids out to lunch and say, “Daddy did a
terrible thing yesterday. I scared
you and I’m supposed to protect you.
And I’m more sorry than you can possibly imagine. I want you to know this: my yelling was about me, not you. You did nothing wrong. I did. And it’s my job to fix it.”
