2/365: Inside outside

I met my dad for the first time in 6 years yesterday.
I talked to my dad for the first time in 6 years.

It was a rush of emotions for me, as for my dad and my mom.
He looks the same.
Just more white hair, more wrinkles, less life.

A rush of repressed feelings rushed back as I tried my best to keep them under the rock the best I could.
It was almost as if he never left my life.
Or I wanted it to be that way.
Not addressing my underlying feelings and thoughts.
I pretend that I’m okay.
I am not okay.
I am the way I am because of him.
Because he left me.
Because he had anger issues.
Because of him, I am the way I am, treading carefully and lightly not to make noticeable ripples.

The way I am inside does not reflect how I am outside.
Careful to keep that part of me hidden.
A distorted mirror I see myself through.

Now for some serious deep sh!t.
How do I feel?
I feel sad.
I feel like I could cry about this for days.
Seeing him the way he is.
I try to look past it all, to see the father that I once knew.
The father that didn’t leave me.
The father that was there, although not really there.
The father that I relied on.
I could focus on his physical self, but that would just break me down.
Breaks me down because he doesn’t care for himself.
I would I could care for him, which I know he won’t accept.
Which I also don’t want to do if it’s going to make him feel certain ways.
Still desperately wanting to be daddy’s little girl, but neither of us feeling qualified.

I long for a fairytale.
Hoping.
Wishing, that someone or something will wave their wand and restore my family.
Rewinding time to a place where everything went wrong and making it right.
I know it’s just wishful thinking, and I can’t help it.
There is a child in me that needs a dad.
A father figure that I now look for in other men.
Never being able to attach because I know how it goes down, or at least I think I know.
Constantly looking for someone else, in hopes of being able to attach.
Leading to a number of first and second dates.
Sex.
Detachment.
Emptiness.
A void that I try to fill.
An emotional void.
A contact void.
I know I need to work on myself first because involving other people.
I just end up hurting other people.
I just end up playing with other people.
I don’t mean to, but my damage damages other people.
I just hope that they’re stronger than me.

I’m sorry.

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