......but the words just haven't come. But I know that if I continue to hold things in, there's not enough Zoloft in Carebear Land to keep me out of a padded cell. So I'm just going to spew a little. Because I need to get this out. Because this is what this blog is for. Because this will make me feel better. And because you guys are the best listeners ever. And my good friends. Who will support me in this hardship.
Unfortunately I can't go into great detail, because, well, I don't think I should. But I can give you all the basics.
And grab a cold beverage and a butt cushion, this is going to be long.
I don't talk a lot about my (biological) dad on here, for good reasons. He hasn't been the best 'father' to me. Actually, he's never really been a 'father'. He's been a grown up drinking buddy. That's about it. My REAL dad was Mike, who married my mom in '95 (or so), and died from cancer a few years ago. He was in my life for 15 years and he was the best dad a girl could ask for.....even though we shared no blood.
I've learned over the years that blood doesn't make family, being there for each other makes family.
That's not to say I didn't have a relationship with Martin (my bio dad), because I did. We got along, as friends. We'd take trips together, and spend time together, and he taught me all I need to know on how to build houses, which is a priceless lesson that I still thank him for. He was just never around for the 'hard' dad stuff. Like paying for some of my college, disciplining me, being there for me when I needed him (and it didn't benefit him in some way). Anyways, I accepted that he was just a certain type of person, that couldn't love unconditionally. He was selfish and untrustworthy. No matter what I did, I couldn't change him, so I just gave up trying to.
When I visited Martin and his wife Jo for Christmas this year, I knew something was different. With them. (This would be his 3rd marriage, btw.) I didn't push anything, because well, it's Christmas, and a happy time, and blah blah blahshitty blah. A few weeks after Christmas I learned almost the whole story, or the majority of it. Martin and Jo were having problems. Martin works out of town a lot. He wasn't being very husbandly to Jo, and was starting to get mean and irritable.
Classic signs that he's bored with this marriage and wants to move on. I knew it. Right away.
And my heart ached for Jo. I love her. Just like my biological mom. She's a wonderful, beautiful, kind, and compassionate women. She's amazing. And she deserves a better marriage. A better husband. She said they were working on things, and she had hope in her voice that everything would work out. But I knew better.
When Martin decided to propose to Jo, almost 10 or 11 years ago (i think), I informed him that this would be the last marriage I attended for him. This was the last 'step'siblings & 'step'mother that I would get to know and love (btw, I hate that word 'step'). That he had to make this one work. He couldn't get bored (like he did with his previous two), he couldn't stray. He had to stay fast. He had to love. He had to grow up & be a big boy. He understood my terms and promised me that Jo knew everything about his past marriages and life. The good, bad, and the really, really ugly. And that he would love her for eternity. And I trusted him. This one last time.
The time came that Martin had to finally fess up to me that his marriage to Jo was ending. This was about a month ago. He called me one night and informed me that he was moving out. And had a house rented in another city, where his office is located. He said that they just couldn't make it work any longer, and couldn't get past things that were said by both parties. He made excuses. He tried to place blame on anyone but himself.
And it hit me like a ton of bricks.
He had done to Jo what he'd done on his previous two marriage. He'd done what he promised me that he would never do again. He was disloyal and dishonest. He was the same ol' Martin. Nothing had changed. He hadn't changed. He had no intention 10 years ago to keep his promises to Jo. Because he still hadn't worked out the demons that caused his previous marriages to fail.
And let me tell you, if you haven't guessed, the failures WERE NOT the women's fault. AT ALL. It was all Martin. Every last detail of it. He ruined those marriages. He's the failure. Not those wonderful, sweet, kind, loving women.
I know this is getting long. And you're probably like, WTF?!?!, but I promise I'm almost done.
So, anyway, the night Martin told me he was moving out, I very sternly and aggressively informed him that he did not keep his promise to me or Jo. That he let me down, again. And that I couldn't have him involved in my life or my baby's life. I told him that I wanted no more contact with him, and he is not to contact me. If the baby grows up and wants to get to know him, that is their right. But they will not know him before that. I told him that I pick Jo on this. She is my family, and always will be. But he no longer has the privilege of being called 'family'. After I was done saying everything, I asked him if he understood me, he replied 'Yes', and I hung up the phone. I haven't talked to him since.
I'm not upset about 'losing' him. I'm not even hurt about it in the slightest. What I am upset about is what he did to this family....yet again. What he did to Jo. And the worst part about this, even though I never considered him a 'father', I now feel like I have no father. I lost Mike, which I still struggle with. And now I've disowned Martin.
I have no Dad.
And it hurts. Really bad.
Like I said, it's not the fact of 'losing' Martin. It's just the idea in general that now I have no father. Ya know? I have no one to call 'Dad' anymore. I can't call up someone and say, 'Hey Dad, whatcha doin?'.
It just isn't natural. There should be someone. I deserve someone. I deserve a good Dad!
I just am not dealing well with this, at all. I'm trying. But it's so difficult. It reminds me of losing Mike, and that just brings up a shit ton of old demons. Which just makes it that much worse.
I mean, I have Ryan's dad. And I have Mom's boyfriend Hardy. I do have male figures in my life. My baby will have Grandpa's. But it's just not the same. I love Cliff and Hardy, but letting my guard down now to let them fully in is tough. Everyone that I've done that to, with the exception of Ryan, has hurt me or left me.
How do I get past this?
How do I move on?
How do I come to terms with this?
Those are the questions that I need answered. And I know I have those answers, somewhere deep down inside me. But for whatever reason, my brain can't focus on them.
I think I just need time. More time. Time helps. Helps ease the pain.
Yes, time, and counseling. (Which I'm getting.)
Sorry, I know this was horribly long and super priest confessional-like, but I just needed to vent.
So thanks for reading.