It was my dad’s birthday yesterday. Mine’s tomorrow. I hate it. I want to just gloss over it like any other day – because it is.
I caved and visited my Dad because my mom wanted me to pick up food and I felt bad rejecting her. Likely it was a ploy to get me to visit my dad on his birthday. “Don’t forget to wish him a Happy Birthday”. The words singe into my flesh like they’re on fire.
While there, I’m uncomfortable. He forces a hug on me that lasts way too long and I’m standing there frozen and looking away… terrified… parts screaming internally. (I hate you. Let me go! Stop touching me! Why won’t you let me go! Jesi run away!!)
He was talkative. Wanted to talk about the future. That I should adopt the twins on paper … get Casey to sign parental rights over so I could have them on my insurance….not even considering that no mother in her right mind would sign over their parental rights….and in the same stroke broke down a little talking about how hard of a worker Eddie was… implications of how painful it is he’s gone. And the arrogance to not understand why Casey wouldn’t be okay with that situation is mind boggling.
Where was this softness when he was alive?
Where was this pride? (Did you know Eddie felt like he was never good enough… all of us did… because of you…)
Why didn’t you ever tell him … any of us this directly?
That pain breaking through your wearied and drunken facade – it comes from love – you shed tears for him now.. but why didn’t you show love to us growing up?
And now you want to… and now you want me to make you feel better? because thats what i am to both of you, right? Your little puppet, your emotional support, caretaker, I am everything to you and so I feel like nothing.
Why does that all make me want to die so much? I have back to back meetings today – all day. There is a part that wants to starve me.. so maybe I can waste away slowly without anyone noticing. I’m sure I’ll get compliments on the weight loss. Why would I bother nourishing an object?
I am internally completely wrecked but I can’t afford to let my own facade break – things are a mess at work – but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.
Suffer, Jesi, Suffer.