REFLECTIONS IN CAMOUFLAGE
Things are rarely ever as they seem. I walked into my counselor’s office last week with only one goal in mind. While I didn’t feel like I had much of anything to talk about, time spent in thought over the Christmas holidays gave me a new focus I wanted to pay special attention to, and I was absolutely resolved to tackle this goal head-on.
As her and I discussed the ideas that bounced around my head, my counselor passed a book on to me that she guessed might aid me in my quest. While the title of the book isn’t something I plan on sharing – that particular issue is far too personal and irrelevant to my point tonight – I am quite sure she knew precisely what she was doing in encouraging me to read it.
What was unbeknownst to me, though apparently not to my counselor, was how limited my point of view was. I had tunnel vision, and the emotional journey I have been on over the past few days since picking through these pages is completely overwhelming to say the least. Not long ago, for the first time I was able to pinpoint the source of anxiety and fear that has plagued me for my entire adult life. What I failed to realize was that identifying a problem does not equate a solution.
Discovering that there’s an issue or that something is amiss doesn’t necessarily come naturally. For as many years as I can remember, men tend to force my stomach into doubled-over knots. I completely and entirely freak out when my mom doesn’t answer the phone when she’s supposed to be home, and I hit re-dial as many times as it takes to get through to her. And worse yet, when I feel as though someone in my life is slipping away, I immediately show them the door to protect myself.
These reactions to panic were something I always viewed as normal reflexes. But why, I have to ask myself, were these reactions constantly conflicting me? It didn’t feel right.
This is where the identification of my abandonment issue comes back into the picture. I called my mom this evening and told her all about the book that I’m reading and the work I have cut out for me. The truthful bottom line, I told her, is that it all goes back to losing the two most significant males in my life during a huge time of growth in my adolescence. My mom was quick to point out that things were much more tumultuous than simply two those instances at that time in my life.
Between the ages of 14 and 17, I lost my Oma, my Opa, my paternal grandfather, my Father, my high school homeroom teacher (one month after I graduated high school), my paternal grandmother and my great Uncle Alfons. This was on top of being in the middle of the dissolution of my parents’ marriage (which was ultimately the best decision for all involved). For a naïve 17-year-old girl, that is a hefty weight to carry.
Ultimately, despite the losses, my relationship with my Father is clearly what still impacts me most at 28, whether I like to admit it or not. It’s been over ten years since he passed away from a drug overdose. It was tragic and nothing that anyone could do anything about. For a time after his death in August of 1998, I felt guilt. Once I learned about his addiction, I was so cold to him. To this day, I can’t recall if I ever again told him that I loved him before he died.
Taking a cue from the book, and in an effort to emotionally reconnect with the loss, I decided to write a letter to my Dad this evening…
As I scrawled out the first page on lined paper, I surprised myself not only at how easily the words flowed, but at how composed I felt. No tears, no sniffles – just words. That was, until, I recollected to my Dad one of the last memories I have of him. On the day of my high school graduation, he showed up at the salon at which I was having my hair and make-up done. I remember that he was gaunt and his skin was the colour of concrete. Instantly I felt anger at him for embarrassing me in front of my friends by appearing in such a state, and so I asked him to leave immediately. I pushed my Dad away, and for that I feel such sorrow. All he wanted to do was tell me how proud he was of me that I was graduating that day, and I couldn’t even allow him that much.
Recalling that is when the deep sobs because to reverberate and the hot tears poured. I felt such shame at the sharp memory.
I was young and inexperienced at life, and understanding how to deal with such a situation was next to impossible at the time.
No one asks to be abandoned. No one asks to feel this way. I know that my Dad never intended to leave his “princess.” I know that he wanted to protect her for her entire life. While I know that he still loves me, he made his choice and that choice and its consequences have ultimately impacted the woman that I am today. It’s hard to understand how much a girl needs a father until she no longer has one. So much of what I experienced in the time since his death was nothing that an hour with Dad couldn’t have uncomplicated.
I feel overwhelmed at how suddenly I am submerged in the work ahead of me. The light at the end of my slowly widening tunnel vision is that I feel a certain peace mingled in with the anxiety. From here, I have no choice but to learn to live as a woman, wholly but with a piece that will forever be missing. It’s no easy battleground to navigate.
I chose to share this because writing is my creative medium, my outlet. I could choose to keep this to myself, to not share it, but I feel as though I would be compromising my authenticity. Judge me if you wish, judge my Dad if you must, but know that it is real and comes from a place of integrity.
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Thank you for sharing this. Good luck, I hope that you discover some wonderful things about yourself along the way, and some peace.
I know how hard your journey must seem, but being as aware as you are will provide the opportunities for great strength to arise. Life is meant for us to discover emotions that we have yet to experience. Then we become wiser and more open to all things.
When my dad was 17 years old, he had a party to attend and was leaving the house. His father wasn’t feeling very well, and asked if my dad could stay. But being 17, my dad went to the party instead. When he returned, his father had passed away. The guilt of that day has been with my dad since that day, and I think a lot of the time my dad spends with me is in part to make up for the lost time he never had with his father. But he’s learned to be thankful over the years for the time he did get to spend with his father, something that took him a very long time to come to accept.
As kids, we all make mistakes. I only regret two major things in my entire life, and one of them was saying something really mean to my mom out of spite when I was 18, and watching her cry for the rest of the night. It’s something I wish I could go back and change, but I can’t. Even today, nearly 13 years later, I still remember saying it and it still makes me sad.
It took a lot of courage to write and share what you did. Anyone who judges any of that, well, they haven’t lived nor are they wise enough to know pain can be just around the corner.
I think it also shows you are really dealing with it, putting it out there, being honest about it and bringing it into the forefront to deal with before you move on in your life.
We all have ghosts, things we wish we could bury, things we fear others judging us for, mumblings in our head of fear. Regrets over words said and unsaid. As much as it cuts, these things are very much a part of a lived life. It ugly, its beautiful , and everything in between.
Also, having been through some pretty brutal stuff early on, I have this true belief that those that suffer a lot early on, but who grow, are destined for wonderful things and happiness. I’ve seen it first hand, just takes time to get there.
You seem to have nice friends and a good family, you also seem smart and kind-hearted, honest with yourself and others which, at times can be a big weight to bear, but it will make you lead a more honest life, and thus keep honest people around you.
Once you deal with things you can move on, and meet someone who will be there at every hour. It is so hard to trust that won’t change when you have the pain of loss – or in my case of being brutalized, any tough experiences, but once you go with your gut on someone, you jump off the cliff and realize there is just no half way.
After all, I do believe that your hapiness, peace, comfort can’t be given in memorandum to ghosts. They may have a large portion of your past, but they shouldn’t control your future.
Sounds to me like you are on the right path to leading a really honest life. As cliche as it sounds, it is the only thing that will really get you into green pastures, allow you to love and accept the way you want to. Age and experience will bring more. Those that bury them and live around them that run into a really lonely life.
Hope you will keep posting like this, not just for us, but because it does the soul good to take things out of the closet and air them out for everyone to see, no matter what medium.
What a brave woman you are to post this. Brave because you fear people will judge you and your father. Hopefully by reading the comments you will see that you are not alone. You are supported by your friends, family and even a few semi-strangers like me who live in the blogosphere. Life is rough, but we don’t need to go through it alone.
Where people once thought it was bad to talk about family problems, I’m hoping that our generation realizes that it is OK to talk about family shit. In fact, it is a sign that we love our family that we are hurt by them.
A friend recently reminded me that we are are always as sick as our darkest secret. Talking about life makes us healthier.
I have tremendous respect for you for recognizing that you have these things to deal with, to heal from – and then taking the steps to do so. Many people will push things away, maybe recognize them but do nothing about it. It takes courage to face these demons.
I was struck by reading this post at how sometimes love can become so complicated. It is sad but entirely natural that we become filled with resentment and hurt when our needs are not met – especially by those most important to us – and at an age where we are so fragile – where we need our Fathers to be Fathers – to be unselfish – to protect us – to love us unconditionally.
Your Father was obviously struggling with his own demons – which ultimately consumed him entirely. This is sad. It is sad that he could not have been there for you when you needed him the most. I am always dumbfounded at how simple love really is in its essence yet how complicated it can become. Sometimes it takes just simple actions and simple words to show that we love someone – yet sometimes this can seem so difficult.
The fact that your Father “left” you at such an early age has no doubt had a profound effect on your life. I am sure that this was a difficult thing to understand and grapple with and it is no wonder that this has had such an impact on your life and in the way that you now relate to others. I am sure that there is always a fear that this will happen again – that someone you love will leave you.
This is a journey that you must travel. And I know that you have all the strength and all the courage to travel this path and come out the other side.
XOXOXOXO
I absolutely love the honesty.
It’s posts like this that give me more of a picture of who you truely are – because they are honest and full of heart. I doubt that anyone would judge you based on your heart.
Thanks for sharing hun.
Thank you for sharing this.
I’ve had anxiety for as long as I can remember. I have ideas on where it comes from, but some of it might just be part of who I am. I’ve worked on it in the past and it takes a lot of work and can be very tiring. At the time, I didn’t want to deal with it and didn’t feel like being open about it. Once I was forced to share all of my issues with my mom, things became easier. I still have anxiety, but the panic attacks aren’t there, I’ve had 2 in 2 years. I have better control on all of it, some of my wall protecting me has come down.
I’m always a believer that anyone who judges you on things that are past your control, isn’t worth being in your life.
Don’t feel alone. It seems like the tragedies and conflicts that we suffer as children and young adults become the foundation of who we are as people the rest of our lives. Your job is to take those events and turn them into positives. They may hurt you but they make you strong as well. A few years ago I went to a workshop that was really great and helped me come to terms with some of my past ghosts. Kind of sounds like what you are doing. It’s called “The Grief Recovery Workshop”. http://www.grief-recovery.com/ There are some great resources on there if you want to do some digging.
Good luck to you!
Thank you for writing so honestly. And on a personal note, thank you for making me aware that anxiety is not a lifelong affliction. The behaviours you described are exactly the same ones I exhibit…just a couple of days ago I called my mom every 5 minutes for several hours until she got home. Last week I completely and totally cut someone out of my life because I felt him slipping away. My dad died suddenly when I was 17 too…even though it seems obvious it never occurred to me that that loss (and some others) might have led to some of my current day issues. So again…thank you, and I think I will do some reading of my own.
Keira, I’m sure that what you have shared here will strike a chord with many of your readers. As a child and then teenager, I had a distant relationship with my father. What I didn’t realize at the time is that he was in the midst of a very deep depression. It was only later as an adult who had been diagnosed myself, that I came to understand what he had gone through. We weren’t able to connect before he passed away, but now more than ever, I understand how much he loved me and I’m sure that he ached to tell me so.
It really seems like you are on a healthy path and with the support of your family and friends these experiences will no longer hold you back but help you blossom into a woman your father would be immensely proud of.
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