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avatar pappa bear

i’m kind of figuring with this blog post a couple of you out there will breathe a sigh of relief, so i’m going for it.
full on. no holding back.
i saw my therapist/intuit today. bonny. bonny is the kind of person/woman who can pull anything out of you. anything you no longer need, that no longer fits or suits you – she can just grab hold and yank. and it’s painless. truly. it’s a loving yank. you don’t even know she’s doing exploratory surgery and then boom. done. over. and then she’ll hug you, a good strong hug – and then everything feels and looks better.
i never talk about my dad in therapy. never. ever.
i always talk about my mom — mom this, mom that… and i just matter-of-factly assumed she was the central figure in my embracing womanhood with such a passion & fury & a bit of salt to toss on the already open wound.
turns out, my dad, wasn’t mr. easy going. he was a major player. as in, HELLO, big time.
today in talking and digging through some huge dirt piles, a humungous realization: my father could never, ever forgive. NEVER. not only that, but he would rub your face in the crap over and over and over. just keep throwing it back at you, reminding you all the time of your fuck ups, and bad shit and you know, repeat offender stuff. why’d you do that? why’d you do that?
today i understand with every fiber in my being why it is so fucking hard for me to step out of the past. and now i get it. i get why i’m stuck here…. STUCK there. because my father kept me stuck there. because that’s all he knew. it was passed down from one generation to the next. my grandmother berated him constantly, repeatedly, and he took that lovely habit and decided to put his own stamp on it. it’s simple really. we repeat what we know. he knew berating. maybe he mistook it for love. that’s possible. i mistook the HOV lane for love for two full years. boy was i wrong.
so, my father, the man who i anointed saint sam, turns out, had a bad icky habit — the habit of never letting go.
i saw it clear as a bell — i did. i had an aha moment that lasted way beyond it’s official aha-dom. it was like ah. haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. wow. wow. aha. holy shit.
and my brother and i were on the receiving end of his constant “post-it” reminders, except they were neither yellow or adhesive ready. we were never, or hardly ever, forgiven for anything. i can vividly recall my dad bringing up crap from when i was twelve years old when i was forty years old and i also remember thinking, “why is he bringing this shit up again? it is so old.” turns out, get this, it’s called pathology. and it turns out that it can really, truly, deeply fuck you up.

so all this time i’m thinking, wow, my mom was such a major trip, but the kicker, turns out my dad was driving the car. she was a trip, but he was in possession of the roadmap.
but for whatever reason, when i left therapy i felt & knew two things:
one: HOLLYE WOULD BE ECSTATIC since it appears we’re both going through the same experience. so, i go to therapy and we both benefit.
two: i really appreciated my life so much more today.
i saw why i do what i do, how i keep myself stuck in the past and saw a way out. i did.
the berating part, the beating myself over and over and over is going out the proverbial window. i understand the root, yanking it out. no longer want it growing in my garden, thank you very much. old & stale and does not make for a grand bouquet.
today i thoroughly embrace my future. my gorgeous, miraculous, stunning future with the absolute clarity that everyone — EVERYONE – makes mistakes, no one gets off scott free, and forgiveness is an art form. there is nothing more powerful & glorious than giving someone the opportunity to walk straight into their future with head held high, without any hint what so ever of a childhood filled with tremendous doubt & angst, fear & unhappiness. To walk full on in. Hope, courage, compassion, belief. BE-LIEF that anything and everything is possible. not tainted with the reminder of no’s, and can’t, and won’t work out, and boy you really fucked that up… no need for that at all.

really, what is the point?
really, what is the point?
again. let me repeat: really, what is the point?

so here’s a toast to those who just didn’t know any better.
may we be the one’s to lead them into the future and guide them the next time around.

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Category: Uncategorized 5 comments »

5 Responses to “pappa bear”

  1. avatar
    Hollye Dexter

    THANK YOU FOR GOING TO THERAPY FOR ME!!!!!
    What a true epiphany you had….ah- hahahahahahahaha moment.
    Whew. I feel so much better.

    Just imagine how great life will be without carrying that albatross around your neck anymore.
    LOVE YOU!

  2. avatar
    Vickie Stahl

    Your father should have met my mother. They were cut from the same cloth. I understand the forgiving, I really do but unfortunately I’m just not there yet. I am, however, plunging into the wonderful world of me and I can honestly say, my daughters should be damn grateful that I broke the cycle.
    Great reading, happy days and keep kicking ass!

  3. avatar
    Amy Wallen

    Funny, or not so funny, but strange, that I had this rather same discovery a few months ago. In fact, I swear, my therapist had me somewhat focused on my dad as the good guy and mom as, well, not so saintly. Then, boom, the other day, I got asked, “Why are you so loyal to your family?”

    I’m feeling like a fool here. Like I’m the only one that didn’t get that you don’t have to be a cling-on. That family is what you make it. I thought for sure I had at least one ally in that clan of mine. But then I got to pondering the whole crowd, and it’s weird how lonely you can feel in a group of people.

    Well, that’s middle age for you–surviving childhood.

    Thanks for this reminder.

  4. avatar
    Barbara@The Middle Ages

    Yup, me too. Therapy threw that mega-watt light on everything from the past. And for about 2 years it tortured me to realize the truth. But then one day the heaviness of it just lifted away and lightness and relief was left in its wake. Mmmm.

  5. avatar
    (required)

    Trying to process Papa Bear and RE LAX is challenging…I wanted to write and tell you that RE LAX was a piece of brilliance…but was afraid you would reject me for loving you and your gifts so much…but now…now…I think I can tell you MY LOVE for you is up there with my love for anything chocolate…thankfully your dad’s freedom from perfection bondage enables me to lavish you with love, praise and adoration…your love slave, (required)


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