CLARITY

C'mon let it go
just let it be...

I have a Father. He's disappointed me more than I have cried. My father looks for excuses in us, in my mother and his addictions. We used to sit around and watch him blankly take gulp after gulp like it was water, like oxygen wasn't necessary, like losing us wasn't enough. He's the chapter in my book that I still cry about, still sensitive and heartbroken by.

When I was adolescent, I fought him. I absolutely and passionately hated him. Hated the alcohol, hated the illnesses, hated his personality, hated his laughter, and hated his damned green eyes. I was rebellious and punched his body with my feeble hands in order to rid of the anger living inside of my tiny body. How can I explain the hatred consuming a ten year olds body?

My father used to carry bags of beer in the car as I sat in the front seat. Would make me pass him one after one beer as he drove me to school, to my friends, home and everywhere else. Is this even safe? Will I finally get into a car accident to teach him a lesson? It never happened.

No man ever warned me away from the bad boys or the good boys. No man taught me how to love a man or a woman right. No man ever taught me the ways of a bible. No man ever tucked me into bed and read me a story. No man raised me properly with love and tenderness. No man will ever have the opportunity to call me his daughter but my father and as always he is a disappointment. He let go of that power when he handed his soul to a bottle.

My mother is my other half. I guess some days she is not. We are very much alike when we notice it, our attitudes don't blend together well, and our tears tend to always show up by the same reasons and same stars.

My stubbornness is just as extreme as hers. I don't like to disappointment my mother. I don't like to be much like my father. She doesn't know I write. She does know I very much like books and to write but has never openly read what I wrote. There's things I say here she'll never let go of. There's things I've never told her like the bathroom incident and my relapsing. She knows much about my self harm as she was the one who caught me. She knows my flaws and depression. She knows it all like a mother should.

But one day I will publish this book or at least something of it, and she will know. She will know the earnest truth of how I feel or what I hide in between my throat or the words I managed to hide in my laugh.

I had to go through an obstacle that many kids go through. I lost both my mother and father. I lost the mother who raised me with my father and I lost the father who managed to forget me. I have a new version of my mother and I've lost the copy of my father. I've lost all of what a man a father needed to be. I miss it all, from being less than two feet tall and having to be carried in a car seats. I miss what it was like to have a mother and father. I realized family will always be something I wish I had when I was a teenager. But I still have some of it before I lost it all. So when I cry, it's because I still have pieces of a past I wish I never had. I still have a dad but I don't.

one day you'll lose someone. you'll lose yourself in the midst of interruptions, gossip and selfishness. one day you'll value it all and love yourself. it's all worth it in the end. you lose some you gain some. you love and then you let it go. just be you. be you because no one can be the image you create.

I still have parts of me that aren't healed.

Let it Go by James Bay on the side or on the top if you're on mobile. 💕
ps I didn't cry as much when I wrote this. 200+ days clean :) thank you for reading... x