Sailing Away

I’d like to think that I’m at a point beyond anger, but I’m not yet, and that’s okay.  Sometimes you need to just turn around and walk away.  Or sail.  Or fly.  Or whatever.  Sometimes you need to just say “You know what?  I’m done here.”  Then once you make that decision, sometimes it takes a little bit to process the emotions, the hurt, the anger.  And that’s okay.

I’d like to say that I’m past the point of anger, but I’m not.  Yet.  I’m getting there.  Most of my life has been spent keeping to myself for the most part.  I had a few years of chaos, where I spiraled out of control to get some kind of attention.  Even negative attention was at least something.  But I digress.  For the most part, I’ve done everything on my own.  I’ve not asked for much.  No one was there for me much either.  It created a monster of stubbornness and independence.

After the passing of my grandfather last month, my entire family has been treating each other like crap.  Or everyone is just against my father.  I’m not really sure.  I don’t really care.  Recently, they’ve tried to drag me into the mix.  I think they’re trying to get me on their side so that my father is completely isolated, but things don’t work that way.  The only side I will pick is the side that benefits my immediate surroundings…. myself, my fiance, my step children.  

Don’t get me wrong, my father is a piece of crap.  But he’s my piece of crap.  And while no, it doesn’t give him an excuse or hall pass to act like a piece of crap, at least my father admits to who he is and is open about his shortcomings.  What gets me is that the rest of my family is acting exactly like they expect him to act.  The difference is, they try to hide it and try to make it seem like they have the best intentions at heart.  No.  I’d rather deal with a wolf that knows he’s a wolf than to deal with a wolf in sheep’s clothing.  At least I can bop a wolf on the nose with a newspaper and tell it no.  The wolves in the sheep’s clothing don’t even realize they’re wolves.

So to the wolves with wool over their eyes: I’m not going to play your games.  I don’t care if you cut me out of the family because I was never truly a part of it to begin with.  I don’t need you.  I wanted you there, I wanted you in my life.  I tried to put forth effort into the relationships with all of you.  It was like bouncing a ball off of a brick wall.  I got nowhere.  And that’s okay.  I can’t expect everyone in this world to give back the efforts that I put into them.  So yes, I did give up.  I gave up on all of you.  It wasn’t for lack of trying though, I grew tired of the one-sided nonsense.  I got tired of hearing that you’re so disappointed in yourselves and that you were going to try to be a part of my life “because I deserve better,” then did nothing to act on that disappointment.  You did nothing to try to change your habits.  You didn’t try to be there for me at all.  And you know what?  That’s fine.  I can at least in good conscience say that I tried.  I called.  I wrote.  I sent Facebook messages and texts.  I rarely got the same.  In fact, out of all of you, I can count two occasions that any of you made attempts to contact me without me reaching out first.  Two.  Shame on you.  And what’s sad is that my narcissistic father, devoid of most emotion or ability to look beyond himself, is actually able to learn a lesson out of all of this.  

So by all means, try to isolate my father.  I will welcome him with open arms into my domain  of solitude.  While yes, it may be lonely from time to time, at least it’s peaceful.  At least my dark corner of the ocean isn’t filled with deception and lies.  And now that he, too, sees that blood isn’t always everything, I can mold him into a decent human being.  So…. thank you?  I’m able to show him a different light in life.  It’ll take time to undo decades of nonsense that you all created, encouraged, and enabled, but it is I who has the strength to redo it.  

You came to me in hopes that I will control and bend my father to your will.  Don’t knock on my proverbial door again.  Don’t worry, I’ll keep my old man on a leash.  It won’t be for you, though.  It’ll be for him.  It’ll be to show him that he doesn’t need you either.  That he, too, can be independent.  That he doesn’t need you.  That he doesn’t have to buy into your BS.  

I’ll teach him how to sail away.