Strange Grey Landscape

I'm in a strange place, somewhere between smugness and sadness. The cloud cover roils between anger and guilt. There are lightening strikes of fury, flash floods of misery, and the occasional break in the clouds that lets through some truly radiant triumph.

I've been flip-flopping between rage and depression all morning.

It's infuriating.

I'm angry at myself for how I feel; I'm angry with him for making me feel this way. I know he's not responsible for how I feel. I know he's trying. I know, there's been remarkable improvement over the years. We're so much better than we were once. And there's the part of me that will never, ever forgive him. And the part of me that just wants it to be over.

I'm talking about my father, for those of you who might not have instantly realized it.

I don't think there's another human being on the planet that can throw me into such complete emotional turmoil.

For Christmas, my dad agreed to give Thomas and I three of the 10-week check in sheets for Weight Watchers. We ran out of slips this week, and he still owes us each a sheet of 10. (And Thomas's insurance offers a $300 rebate for "health initiatives" so that's how we're going to pay for the rest of the year... plus $100-$150 out of pocket, I expect...)

I called him three weeks ago and told him we only had 3 slips each left. He said "Ok, I should do something about that."

I called him again YESTERDAY to remind him.

"Oh, right."

We talked for a bit, about how we were doing on the Plan (~25-30 pounds lost for each of us) and my exercising and whatnot. He told me he was proud of me again.

It didn't inspire warmfuzzies this time.

He didn't think I could do it.

That's what this boils down to.

He has never believed in me. He sets expectations impossibly high and is then parsimonious with praise for a job well done.

There's the part of me that's obnoxiously smug about this: See what I did, and you didn't think I could. Showed YOU!

And then there's the part of me that wonders why the FUCK I had to prove ANYTHING to him. He's my FATHER. Shouldn't he love me, be proud of me, believe in me, NO MATTER WHAT? I mean, isn't that the way it's supposed to work?

Woe is me, I am so homesick
But it ain't that bad
'Cause I'm homesick for the home I never had

- Soul Asylum

Of course, there's the other part of me, the part that thinks he's right to not to believe in me. That he's right to dismiss my petty accomplishments and wonder why I can't do better, be better.

And if you don't expect too much from me
You might not be let down
- Gin Blossoms

My father and I agreed we'd rather be Happy than Right. But there's so much we don't talk about.

I know that I'm a prisoner
To all my father held so dear
I know that I'm a hostage
To all his hopes and fears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Crumpled bits of paper
Filled with imperfect thought
Stilted conversations
I'm afraid thats all we've got

You say you just don't see it
He says its perfect sense
You just can't get agreement
In this present tense
We all talk a different language
Talking in defense
- Mike and the Mechanics

I've tried really hard to let go of the old hurts, the things we can't change. The Right he thought he was. The stupid misunderstandings. The careless words. The active interference of my mother who wanted nothing more (and would accept nothing less) than to be the center of our attention. It's never been easy, and sometimes it's the hardest thing in the world.

And I can never forgive him for loving my daughter more than he loves me.

Sometimes, I don't know that it's worth it.

And yet, I can't seem to stop trying.