Tag Archives: self reflection

My father, the tyrant

My Dad is not a tyrant.  He is a good man.  He is hard working, has a strong sense of responsibility and delegates himself fairly in all aspects of his life.  He is compassionate, albeit a little passive, and he is ultimately a very forgiving person.  And yet, for the greater part of my memory, these qualities of his have always been something I’ve seen as opposed to felt.  I don’t necessarily believe my relationship with him has been dictated by these characteristics.

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So, dad, if you should ever read this, I want you to know that I resent you a lot.  I love you and would never wish for a different man to call my father, but I hold a very deep-seeded grudge for you and here I will try and tell you why.

At one time I use to think of myself as a very beautiful person.  And I don’t mean for vanity’s sake, I mean ever since I was little I’d always felt like people appreciated me and always acknowledged that I had a brightness within me that shone brighter than anyone else.  I try to say this modestly, but I’m having a hard time translating my thoughts–

I used to feel like a good and true person.  And I used to attribute a lot of that within me to you.  I used to really admire you, and I still do respect the same qualities in you as I always have.  But I am a grown person now.  And my thoughts and my reasoning have changed considerably.  I know I am still only a naïve child in your eyes–believe me, I’m still a child in my eyes too–but I have a brain and a heart that work and have the ability to see things for themselves.  I don’t see things the way you want me to anymore.

And this is where my resentment comes from.  My feelings and thoughts are invalid to you.  They are disrespected and inconsequent.  I become invalid.  I become inconsequent.  I don’t understand you like I once did, because you fail to understand me.  And what has happened to me as a result is now I don’t even understand myself.  Because you were someone I looked up to, and because you were someone I attributed the good in myself to, I struggle with understanding what kind of person I must be today.

Does that make sense?

I am so hurt and I am so uncertain of myself.  There has not been a day in years where I have looked in the mirror and told myself that I am good enough because I am good.  It doesn’t work that way for me anymore.  I am not good enough and I am not good.

I know you think I must be so disrespectful.  I know that anyone in their right mind would probably see me as being disrespectful.  But I don’t.  I see myself as protecting what little I have left to call my own.  When I am disrespecting you, I am holding the memories of my younger self, and I am defending them.  I am remembering a little boy, who was good and whole and innocent, and I am trying to prove to him that everything that he is today is okay.  I am trying to make him feel like he is still innocent and he is still beautiful, no matter what you make him feel like.  I am trying to teach him that his father is a tyrant that has no influence over the kind of person that little boy has the potential to become, to save him from the place I’ve found myself in here and now.  And yet, I still feel like nothing.  You still make me feel like nothing.

I try and make you out to be the tyrant of my life’s story.  But all you ever do is make me feel like the tyrant of yours.

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Something of a realization.

Tomorrow will have been one year since I came back to the city.

I thought I would be a different person by now–a better person.  I thought that I would find peace with myself, be happy with the kind of life that I lead, make friends and be outgoing, maybe even have someone new who could love me the way I have known myself to love.  I thought this year would be different; not that I’ve invested a lot it making it that way.

I know I have changed in some respects, and maybe I am a lot more outgoing because of working at Starbucks, but whatever self-affirmation I carry myself with in front of a stranger is something I know all too intimately to not be true at all.

I do not love myself.

It’s something I have always known, but the weight that this understanding bears becomes more and more significant with every passing memory.  I indulge far too much in what I hate about myself, and I acknowledge far too often the reasons I will never see myself fit enough to truly be loved by myself, much less someone else.

The other day a friend jokingly told me in passing that no one would ever want to date me… and it was then that I knew there really was no façade.  I wasn’t fooling anybody.  I’m not worth the attention and the love from someone who has learned to embrace their own faults and love themselves first and foremost.  I am not capable of sustaining myself and appreciating my means of doing so.

I find myself to be useless.  Unattractive.  Incapable.  Unlovable…

And so I finally deleted all of my online dating profiles.  What is the point of having them, really?  Finding someone to acknowledge me has consumed me this past year.  And only once every few months I actually go on a date with someone.  Every other one of those dates I meet someone I generally regard myself to be interested in.  And after the first, sometimes the second date, I become sad and insecure and never talk to them again.

And all the time in between?  I observe other’s profiles and picture what my life with them would be like.  I look at their pictures and read about them and insert them into memories of my ex.  Because they are memories I don’t want to change.  They are memories I want to relive.  And ultimately it doesn’t matter what any of these men have to offer, because I only want them to offer one thing.  I want them to offer me my past.

That is disgusting.  I am disgusted with myself, and it is over.  I am willfully choosing to be alone, like the way it should be.  If I can do one thing good for myself, it will be this.  To be alone by my own volition, and spare myself the agony of feeling abandoned by anybody else.  I am so sad.

And for what?

It is July 2nd, 2013.  Or thereabouts.  Maybe it will be a new day by the time this is posted.  Maybe it already is a new day for some who will read this.

It is 11:28, at present.  In the evening.

It is calm.  Or more so than it was a few hours earlier.  The day was tragically humid.  It quickly enveloped my world in rain and thunder and fierce winds.

And for what do these things matter?

It is July.  This month will see my beloved dog through what would have been his 15th year.  I will see my best friend towards the end of the month, and I will quickly learn that time has given us a beautiful friendship that will last for forever, but has also come to lead us in new paths.  Separate paths.

It is the 2nd.  Of no particular importance.  Though I’m not of the beautifully minded who intricately remember such a specific day on a yearly basis, it is easy for me to recall some things.  This day, 2008 I would have been intermittently playing Okami and grieving my realization of self to be something of a disappointment.  2009 I would have been replaying Okami and mourning my year that was lost to my earlier realizations.  2010 I was hiding in my house and avoiding knocks at the door from concerned friends who couldn’t get ahold of me to join them for the previous night’s Canada Day fireworks.  2011 I would have been sleeping all day to compensate for the last 9 months of working night shifts before quitting the morning of the 2nd.  2012 I was holed up at my parents spending hours debating on how I should respond to messages from my ex in regards to his missing me, but having no interest in getting back together.

I guess the 2nd of July in 2013 will forever mean something new to me.  I am still the same lost child with a deprived sense of self as I have always been, but this time around I’m trapped in a lonely city away from home.  Even my “firsts” are redundant.

And it is the 23rd hour.  An hour that has forever been my time of self-reflection.  Too late in the evening to be bothered by social nuisances.  Too early in the evening to be distracted by reading or videogames.

It is calm amidst a storm.

I am calm amidst a storm.  A storm of emotions I just don’t know how to cope with.  I am anxious and I am lost.  I trust no one.  I have faith in nothing.  I am broken beyond repair.  I don’t have the means to recover before the next storm rolls over me.

And for what do these things matter?

They serve to show me that I am entirely too involved in my depression.

What have I become?  Why am I so ashamed when I look at the person who I was 5 years ago?  4 years ago?  3 years, 2 years, 1 year ago?  Because I see that I have become nothing?  That I am the same?  That I “deal” the same way that I always have?

I don’t want this to be my reality anymore.  Maybe if I play Okami again, my life will appear differently afterwards.