THE GRUDGE
No, no. Not the dead girl who scares the fuck out of me in the movie. I'm talking a REAL grudge. Actually, as I think about it there's not a lot of difference is there? Both can eat at you; haunt you for all time.
As I said in my other blog, my father came to town this weekend. A piece of me feels like I have to explain the situation, but those who know me already know most of the history; those who don't need not be bored with the details. To sum it up, my father and I don't get along that great. In fact he drives me nutty in a bad way. I typically need mental recouping after being around him for any amount of time. I have to remind myself that being criticized to death; feeling like an utter failure, doesn't mean he's right. I have to sometimes cry, and always remind myself that I'm an adult and though life has not taken the path I often thought it would, I'm proud of what I've overcome; where I've gone; the adventures I've had.
After leaving the first lunchtime meeting with him, I reunited with the family (sans my mom) this evening. My stomach knotted up as I pulled up to my sister's. Then the evening went on. Thing is minus one comment, and still not asking how I've been, it was quite painless. However, I sat on edge waiting to jump the entire time. As I drove home I realized that this no longer is about him. This is about me.
I had this great counselor I used to see about seven years ago. The majority of therapy usually revolved around my marriage at the time, my religious upbringing, and my father. I remember my counselor saying to me that if he had not made a drastic change in his life at this point, without a life-shaking moment, he likely never would. So far it's proven to be fairly true, but that's not for me to worry about. I know that I will never be the ideal daughter to him. I don't believe in his religion, which is a HUGE issue with him. I'm not married or have kids. I'm constantly wandering about, not settling down and living the life that he thinks a woman my age is supposed to live. I KNOW how he feels about it. What I realized as I drove home tonight is that I have to let go of how he feels and fully embrace the life I've chosen. I've got to stop carrying this grudge I carry about how he's always treated me. By not being absolutely confident in my choices...my life...I'm disabling myself and all I'm doing is proving him right.
Now this isn't about proving anyone right or wrong. It's about feeling good about myself and my life and not letting his opinions sway that. I have nothing but support and love from my friends and the rest of my family, which amounts to a lot. It's funny that only one person can rattle my foundation so much, but I'm letting him. I remember about three years ago seeing another counselor during a very rough period of my life. I stopped seeing her after three months because she kept blaming my parents for everything bad in my life. I do agree that how we are raised highly contributes to who you are, but after three months of listening to this woman blame and blame and blame, I realized that no matter what happened, I'm an adult now. I can choose what I want to do with that. I can either sit around and blame them, or I can say "I don't have to be this kind of person because I have a say in the matter" and make the strides to move forward. I see that when I'm around my father I fall back into blame mode. I feel like a piece of shit and then get pissed at him. I can do this when he's just sitting there!
Tonight I realized I'm done. I have to let go of this shit. My dad is not a bad human being. I do love him. And whatever kind of father he was or is, I don't have to keep being pissed. I choose instead to just know this is how he is, and it doesn't mean he's right. I'm an adult and I love the life I've lived. There are definitely things I'd change, but even those things I'd change would still leave me as the kind person he couldn't understand. I choose to knock this shit off and not let it stomp on my happiness because at this point I'm letting it stomp on my happiness. It's time to be free of this and try to accept the simplest of common ground we can find.
It's time to shake this grudge. I'm tired of being haunted.
***Update****
11/3/07
In letting this go I had a really great day with my family today. Probably one of the best ones I've had with him. Freedom is just a shift in perspective I guess.
As I said in my other blog, my father came to town this weekend. A piece of me feels like I have to explain the situation, but those who know me already know most of the history; those who don't need not be bored with the details. To sum it up, my father and I don't get along that great. In fact he drives me nutty in a bad way. I typically need mental recouping after being around him for any amount of time. I have to remind myself that being criticized to death; feeling like an utter failure, doesn't mean he's right. I have to sometimes cry, and always remind myself that I'm an adult and though life has not taken the path I often thought it would, I'm proud of what I've overcome; where I've gone; the adventures I've had.
After leaving the first lunchtime meeting with him, I reunited with the family (sans my mom) this evening. My stomach knotted up as I pulled up to my sister's. Then the evening went on. Thing is minus one comment, and still not asking how I've been, it was quite painless. However, I sat on edge waiting to jump the entire time. As I drove home I realized that this no longer is about him. This is about me.
I had this great counselor I used to see about seven years ago. The majority of therapy usually revolved around my marriage at the time, my religious upbringing, and my father. I remember my counselor saying to me that if he had not made a drastic change in his life at this point, without a life-shaking moment, he likely never would. So far it's proven to be fairly true, but that's not for me to worry about. I know that I will never be the ideal daughter to him. I don't believe in his religion, which is a HUGE issue with him. I'm not married or have kids. I'm constantly wandering about, not settling down and living the life that he thinks a woman my age is supposed to live. I KNOW how he feels about it. What I realized as I drove home tonight is that I have to let go of how he feels and fully embrace the life I've chosen. I've got to stop carrying this grudge I carry about how he's always treated me. By not being absolutely confident in my choices...my life...I'm disabling myself and all I'm doing is proving him right.
Now this isn't about proving anyone right or wrong. It's about feeling good about myself and my life and not letting his opinions sway that. I have nothing but support and love from my friends and the rest of my family, which amounts to a lot. It's funny that only one person can rattle my foundation so much, but I'm letting him. I remember about three years ago seeing another counselor during a very rough period of my life. I stopped seeing her after three months because she kept blaming my parents for everything bad in my life. I do agree that how we are raised highly contributes to who you are, but after three months of listening to this woman blame and blame and blame, I realized that no matter what happened, I'm an adult now. I can choose what I want to do with that. I can either sit around and blame them, or I can say "I don't have to be this kind of person because I have a say in the matter" and make the strides to move forward. I see that when I'm around my father I fall back into blame mode. I feel like a piece of shit and then get pissed at him. I can do this when he's just sitting there!
Tonight I realized I'm done. I have to let go of this shit. My dad is not a bad human being. I do love him. And whatever kind of father he was or is, I don't have to keep being pissed. I choose instead to just know this is how he is, and it doesn't mean he's right. I'm an adult and I love the life I've lived. There are definitely things I'd change, but even those things I'd change would still leave me as the kind person he couldn't understand. I choose to knock this shit off and not let it stomp on my happiness because at this point I'm letting it stomp on my happiness. It's time to be free of this and try to accept the simplest of common ground we can find.
It's time to shake this grudge. I'm tired of being haunted.
***Update****
11/3/07
In letting this go I had a really great day with my family today. Probably one of the best ones I've had with him. Freedom is just a shift in perspective I guess.
THE HILLBILLY EXORCISM
It's been a long time since I laughed so hard no sound came out and tears streamed down my face. You know the kind of laughter I'm talking about, right? Where you're paralyzed and your body wants air so bad, but all you can do is lean to the side and kind of shudder. Finally a loud squeal comes out followed by more tears and you grab onto whomever is next to you, hoping that in doing so it will prevent you from rolling to the ground and getting cheese fries ground into your ass. When it's finally over your cheeks are sore and your soul is free from whatever bullshit entrapped it just moments earlier.
Today I had that kind of laughter and it felt damned good.
My father came into town today and we've all been kind of dreading it. Without going into any further dumpy details, he met my mom, sister and me for lunch. In the ten minutes it took for us to get from the office to the restaurant, he'd driven my mom and I crazy. We sat bitching while we waited for him to get back from the bathroom and for my sister to join us. The three of us girls kept most of the conversation going because it's always strained when left in his hands. We're all just making small talk and wanting to get out of there when my sister starts talking about the hillbillies up at the lake.
My sister and her family have a camper up at this lake about an hour away where they spend almost every weekend during their summers. Their friends all have campers up there as well. They are on a dirt version of a cul-de-sac and at the end of the cul-de-sac reside the hillbillies. I've seen their Airstream trailer, but can't recall them personally from my visits up there. My sister mentions them every once in a while, most recently when they purposefully went up to the lake for a few extra days because the hillbillies were away at the Moonshine Festival in Holla Creek or someplace like that.
They have what is referred to as the Flying Purple People Eater, which is a purple golf cart with white leather seats, a fuzzy dice, and spinning rims. They have another golf cart that is a three-wheeled meter maid cart, which has sat in the woods for two years. Apparently one of them took it out recently when he was on a typical drunk. He crashed it into a ditch and flew into the windshield, cutting his face and cracking the plexi-glass. Are you getting the picture here?
So my sister starts to tell us how Fletcher took my niece to the lake's haunted trail recently. Residents dress up and try to scare the people that are driven on a trailer, I'm assuming towed by a truck, hayride-style. The hillbillies invited their hillbilly cousins to join them for this event. All of the hillbillies were pretty trashed and went onto the "hayride" on the haunted trail. Well male cousin hillbilly is so drunk, he rolls off his seat on the trailer and falls to the ground where he is then run over by the rear wheel of the trailer and breaks his foot. Heidi was told they could hear him screaming, "Somebudda's gonna paaaayyyyyyy...." as the wheel went over his foot.
The three of us girls busted up at this. We couldn't stop! The tears started rolling and we were leaning every which way in hopes this would bring some air into our lungs. My dad sat there staring at us like we were nuts. He kind of smiled, but it was more at our reaction than the story itself. Then Heidi put us over the edge.
"No....no wait," she laughed as she wiped her eyes. "Last year the hillbilly who lives there got really drunk and threw up." She leans forward, her laughter picking up. "And..." she wipes more tears. "And he threw up so hard he lost his dentures as he puked."
That was it. We lost it. The three Duffin girls let out one loud scream, then silently writhed trying to expel the wave of laughter that was too much. The tears poured harder. My mother grabbed my shoulder and I leaned against the wall gasping for air.
Heidi starts waving her hand to finish. "AND...hahahahaha....he had to go back the next day to fish his teeth out of the puke!" We screamed more. Other patrons were flat out just staring at us now. Some looked amused, others scared. My dad just sat there with a slight smile not getting why it was so funny.
After what seemed like an eternity of tears, laughter and epileptic fits, we quieted down, but were still grinning ear-to-ear. It was like an exorcism of sorts. The evil spirits of the ghosts of our past that sat with us at that table were expelled, and at least temporarily forgotten. In their place was the vision of projectile denture vomiting.
Sometimes I would never live anywhere else.
Today I had that kind of laughter and it felt damned good.
My father came into town today and we've all been kind of dreading it. Without going into any further dumpy details, he met my mom, sister and me for lunch. In the ten minutes it took for us to get from the office to the restaurant, he'd driven my mom and I crazy. We sat bitching while we waited for him to get back from the bathroom and for my sister to join us. The three of us girls kept most of the conversation going because it's always strained when left in his hands. We're all just making small talk and wanting to get out of there when my sister starts talking about the hillbillies up at the lake.
My sister and her family have a camper up at this lake about an hour away where they spend almost every weekend during their summers. Their friends all have campers up there as well. They are on a dirt version of a cul-de-sac and at the end of the cul-de-sac reside the hillbillies. I've seen their Airstream trailer, but can't recall them personally from my visits up there. My sister mentions them every once in a while, most recently when they purposefully went up to the lake for a few extra days because the hillbillies were away at the Moonshine Festival in Holla Creek or someplace like that.
They have what is referred to as the Flying Purple People Eater, which is a purple golf cart with white leather seats, a fuzzy dice, and spinning rims. They have another golf cart that is a three-wheeled meter maid cart, which has sat in the woods for two years. Apparently one of them took it out recently when he was on a typical drunk. He crashed it into a ditch and flew into the windshield, cutting his face and cracking the plexi-glass. Are you getting the picture here?
So my sister starts to tell us how Fletcher took my niece to the lake's haunted trail recently. Residents dress up and try to scare the people that are driven on a trailer, I'm assuming towed by a truck, hayride-style. The hillbillies invited their hillbilly cousins to join them for this event. All of the hillbillies were pretty trashed and went onto the "hayride" on the haunted trail. Well male cousin hillbilly is so drunk, he rolls off his seat on the trailer and falls to the ground where he is then run over by the rear wheel of the trailer and breaks his foot. Heidi was told they could hear him screaming, "Somebudda's gonna paaaayyyyyyy...." as the wheel went over his foot.
The three of us girls busted up at this. We couldn't stop! The tears started rolling and we were leaning every which way in hopes this would bring some air into our lungs. My dad sat there staring at us like we were nuts. He kind of smiled, but it was more at our reaction than the story itself. Then Heidi put us over the edge.
"No....no wait," she laughed as she wiped her eyes. "Last year the hillbilly who lives there got really drunk and threw up." She leans forward, her laughter picking up. "And..." she wipes more tears. "And he threw up so hard he lost his dentures as he puked."
That was it. We lost it. The three Duffin girls let out one loud scream, then silently writhed trying to expel the wave of laughter that was too much. The tears poured harder. My mother grabbed my shoulder and I leaned against the wall gasping for air.
Heidi starts waving her hand to finish. "AND...hahahahaha....he had to go back the next day to fish his teeth out of the puke!" We screamed more. Other patrons were flat out just staring at us now. Some looked amused, others scared. My dad just sat there with a slight smile not getting why it was so funny.
After what seemed like an eternity of tears, laughter and epileptic fits, we quieted down, but were still grinning ear-to-ear. It was like an exorcism of sorts. The evil spirits of the ghosts of our past that sat with us at that table were expelled, and at least temporarily forgotten. In their place was the vision of projectile denture vomiting.
Sometimes I would never live anywhere else.
