Yesterday (Father’s Day) was particularly hard for me. So hard in fact that yet again, I binged and woke up this morning feeling like I had a sour stomach. I felt so bloated that reflections of being in my last trimester and the Good Year Blimp came over me. I did not want to take credit away from my loving husband who chose to walk into our life without turning his back even once and care for Daniella like his own dear child. I wanted to celebrate him and honor him by taking him to dinner and giving him all of my attention.
I am really good at suppressing my feelings…or should I say, eat them. Generally, I will try and eat them away until that doesn’t work where I finally have to find someone to talk them through. Yesterday was no different. I didn’t mention anything to my husband until I had already eaten my feelings and the day was anew. The truth is that yesterday I was dying in side and Timehop did not make it any better. I was gently reminded that I wished him his first Father’s Day and I could still hear him on the other side of the phone in tears because he had wished for that for so long. On that day we talked about how even though I had father figures in my life who did as much as they could, I was still lacking. I would often be reminded by my family that my Grandpa and Uncle were there for me and while that was wonderful, I still had a burning sensation in me, a desire to speak to my flesh and blood on his day.
I read an article the other day that talked about Father’s Day and the reason why you should not credit single mother’s on that day. It went into detail about the need to leave that day to dad’s specifically and when single mother’s take that day as their own or allow their children to specify that they deserve Father’s Day also, it only is servicing the “tit for tat” manner that bitterness has created. Whether or not your child is still in that parent’s life, it is a learning curve for the mother to be forgiving and bigger than herself to teach her child(ren) that on this day, we can simply thank your father for what he helped to create and relish on the beauties of the child that you are thankful for. I think sometimes, mother’s often forget that the situation they are in ended up because of things that were both in and out of their control but they never really learn that instead of focusing on the bad that was out of their control, they can focus on the good and the amazing human that they get to see every day. However, that does not warrant taking away from the Father’s that have not created or are in those situations. It doesn’t justify the reason why a mother should claim to be both the father and the mother. I see a lot of meme’s that applaud single mothers on that day and quite frankly, I just want to slap the person that created it. It makes no sense to me and it is just stirring up bitterness and harboring on the past, which, if you are still there, you need to move on and realize that not only are you doing yourself a disservice, but your child. So move along.
I had my dad to say “Happy Father’s Day” to one time, and that is all I have. Granted, I know some will not even get that but why live inside hate and anger within you. Celebrate the things that he did give you (maybe your eyes that you are so in love with, or your toes that are oddly shaped but you adore them anyway). Celebrate him for those things because two humans made you, not just your mother. It will be something bigger than yourself but honestly, it will feel so good to lift anger off your chest. Life is too short to be bitter and hold on to unnecessary thoughts and garbage.
Even though I wanted to sulk in the bottom of my closet with my ice cream, I celebrated with my husband. Even though I binged on food to numb the pain, it was the little things like reminding me that I am so lucky in so many ways and I have such a great support system to comfort me. Yesterday was part of my healing and part of me recognizing what I need to do to be free of feeling broken.
Happy Father’s Day to my daddy in peace. Love you more than the stars up high, sissy-jo.
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