Sunday, February 22, 2009

It Still Hurts

It still hurts. I thought that it didn't. I thought that if I just develop an apathetic shell that it wouldn't affect me. I thought that if I smile on the surface that my lips in the shape of my lips curling upward would somehow sink deeper inside and cause a smile on my heart. I thought that if I closed myself that there wouldn't be anymore room for the hurt to enter in.

Guess what? I was wrong.

It still hurts. I hate seeing my father. I hate every time is in my house. (It's my house because you lose ownership when you leave.) I hate hearing my parents argue. I hate every word my father says, because it is all lies. I hate it.

Sometimes I feel like a wimp and a baby and a PMS-ing girl every time I cry. It's not true. It's not just the things that "I don't need to cry about" that are bothering me. It's pain and scars that will never be removed. There are they forever. Here's a lie that everyone wants you to believe about forgiveness: that you are able to forget. Scars don't go away overnight. They don't even go away over time. Sometimes they fade, but there are always there. I want to discover the healing power of tears, but I know that no band-aid is big enough to cover the pain.

Dad: How are you doing?
Me: Fine.
Me: You don't have to pretend you care.
Dad: I do care.
Me: I know you don't. Haven't you noticed that you never call. The only times you ever called was when Mom told you to. Haven't you noticed that Mom has stopped telling you? She's stopping telling you because I don't want to talk to someone that doesn't want to talk to me.
Dad: I like talking to you.
Me: Really? Cause your actions speak a little differently.
Dad: I saw your picture in the paper.

I am timid and I don't like confrontation. Me saying that little thing just a couple minutes ago took a lot of courage. I am a wimp and I don't have the strength to fight. I have gone for six years without a father. I would be lying if I said the pain wasn't there. I try my best to hide it and forget about it and live dispite its existance, but it's there. Scars don't go away. I wish I could say the same for fathers.

1 comment:

steve said...

Andy Stanley did a series at North Pointe called "Fight Club" that might speak to your situation, Andra. Don't give in to hate and bitterness in an effort to ease the pain.