Dad left. He found himself a girl friend when I was in about 5th or 6th grade. I remember how embarassed I was. Lots of embarrassing moments. It all led up to me feeling incredibly insecure and having a void I didn't know how to fill. I felt betrayed, unwanted, alone, and mostly bitter. I hated him.
I wrote this angry poem about it. I'm not proud of it now and I think it's rude and cruel, but maybe it will give some insight as to how I was feeling.
How Could You?
Hate fills my veins
When I think of what you did
You left us and replaced us with
Other people - Heaven forbid
Other people who didn't even
care about you
I thought I was your little girl
But you managed to replace that too
I would like to know if the alcohol
makes you forget
Forget about the hearts you've broken
and of all your regrets
Did you think I would never need you?
Did you think I wouldn't care?
or is that what you tell yourself
as you go to sleep- How do you dare?
Dare to leave us behind
Like some unwanted gift
Quit feeling worry for yourself
We're the ones who need the lift.
Don't tell me you love me
Actions speak louder than words.
And I'm supposed to forgive
what you did? It really hurt.
I will forgive
But I'll never forget
You screwed us over
Like we were some bet.
You really don't care about us
You care about yourself- which is nothing new
I was just wondering...
How could you?
How could you?
Ew. Is that just the most angry thing ever? Doesn't make me feel very good to read it. I wrote that as a teenager. So I was carrying those feelings around for years. Can you imagine how I must of felt inside? Weighed down by all that negativity and hatred? Pretty unpleasant.
No doubt what he did was wrong. It was a selfish choice that ripped our family apart and emotionally wounded our entire family possibly for life. I know I developed lots of skewed ways of thinking which were set in stone by situations that were to come in my future. I still, 14 years later, struggle with ways of thinking that undoubtedly came from that one choice my dad made, but I was able to let it all go! I was able to rise above it all. I was able to go to the Lord and lift of my backpack full of rocks. Rocks of hatred, animosity, cruelty, and an overal evil disposition towards my very own father.
So not only am I trying to show the effects of infidelity, but also how one can rise above hatred by going to the Lord and asking for help.
-My Changing Point-
I hated my dad so much. I just wanted him to feel the hatred oozing out of my pores each time he was even close to me. I wanted him to see my animosity toward him in my eyes. I wanted him to apologize, to embrace me, and tell me how much he loved me, but because he never did that I lashed out by hating him so much it made me sick to look at him. One day I noticed he didn't see any of my hate when he looked at me. He didn't care that I hated him! He was going on living his life not even noticing how badly he hurt me. Well, of course this hurt me even more. I cried and cried about it.
But then I realized (through the spirit, though I didn't recognize it at the time) after a period of time, that I didn't have to carry all that hatred around anymore. I felt that Dad would be confronted with all the pain he caused us either in this life or the next. In order to progress he would have to face up to what he'd done and pay the price for it. I felt sorry for him.
My heart honestly felt sorry that he would have to feel even an ounce of the pain I had felt. I realized that the Lord would take care of it. I didn't have to. In fact I didn't have the authority to make Dad's judgement call. I felt relieved. I felt the wound finally begin to heal.
After even more time went by and a marriage to my sweetheart, the Lord revealed more to me (line upon line and precept upon precept) so that I could better understand that lesson he had given me years ago. I realized that my dad had been through so much in his life. He served in Vietnam when he was 19. He told me of some of his stories, through one of his drunken stupors, which were horrible (and I was way too young to hear any of them). I think that war traumatized Dad. I really truly believe Dad never grew up. He is still at 60+ years old that 19 year old boy who can't grow up. That's what I believe the Lord showed me. I don't know what he went through in his life that led up to who he is today, and I don't agree with most of the decisions he makes, but none of that really matters. I love him. I pray that out of anything he goes through he knows that. I hope he can feel it in my eyes and my spirit when I am around him. I am grateful to have had him as my dad.
