The Art of Lost Dads

I think the most detrimental thing about growing up and not knowing who you father is, isn’t his absence but the reason behind that absence being told by those who are still there.

When I was younger I never thought it mattered that I didn’t have a dad in my life. I was reminded all the time by various people that growing up and being raised by a single mother put me at a disadvantage. I am not sure if this was normal but I always heard people mention how hard it must be for me and my mom, even though we lived in a house hold that had a few male figures, I had a few uncles and grandpa’s floating around, I was still made aware of my “handicap” quite often.

I never really wanted to find or meet my bio-dad. I was never interested in finding out why he was never around or what happened between him and my mom that made him not want to be a part of my life. And to be honest to this day I am not really all that interested in finding him. I feel like he should be looking for me. However, if he were, it wouldn’t be that difficult seeing as I still live in the small county that he left me in.

I don’t have any lingering hatred toward him I just don’t know what I would do with him should I meet him. In a way I don’t really see that I have a need for him now. I don’t see how he can help me at this stage of my life. Most people that I have spoken to about this seem to look at me with pity in their eyes that says they think I cry myself to sleep at night thinking of him. That I am some wounded soul that never knew the love of a daddy. Like I am lying to myself to make life seem ok. That isn’t true. I just honestly don’t know how to miss what I never had.

It wasn’t until I left home for college that I started to realize what I might be missing. I often tell people that going away to school is what saved me. It wasn’t until I started to see that the life that I knew wasn’t normal. I grew up in quite a dysfunctional home. I experienced a lot of abuse and saw a lot of things I probably didn’t need to see. I was a part of a lot of situations that I really didn’t need to be a part of. And while my mom did her best I think that she too grew up in dysfunction so a lot of things were normal for her.

It’s not like my mom didn’t try to fill the void. There was a guy that I thought was my dad for most of my child life. My family, however, was very adamant on telling me that he wasn’t. I never knew who to believe so I just ignored everyone. Later on, as I grew up I found that in my family, the truth about dads is a lost art. I’ve discovered that most of us have no idea who our real fathers are. And the ones that know the truth lie. It’s a crazy thing we do but I can count at least 7 family members who have no real clue to who their dad really is. And the persons that did or do know the truth are dead or refuse to tell. And I suppose we could go and do the research and all that to find out but I think, or at least I know for me, it feels like the ultimate rejection. Knowing that there is someone that is out there alive and aware of you but has chosen to forget you. To put your heart on the line and go knocking on doors that may not be answered; or get slammed in your face seems more humiliating then just being forgotten.

While I never blamed my actual bio-dad for his disappearing acts, I always figured it was my mom’s doing. I am sure they had their reasons, but my mom was the one that lied for most of my life. On the day I found my birth certificate and found that there was another name on it that didn’t match the man I knew and The royal beating I got for “snooping through her things”, it was that moment that I lost faith in my mom. Instead of coming out and telling me the truth she blamed me. I never and I still don’t understand why she wasn’t honest with me. To be quite honest, I don’t think I have ever trusted my mom since then. If she could lie to me about who I am to fit her comfort then how could I ever believe that she would tell me the truth about anything. I realized then and learned it to be the unfortunate truth up to now, that that particular situation would not be the end of my mom’s dishonesty with me.

I look around and see a lot of my friends who were raised with fathers around and I notice a lot of differences between us. One thing that is monumentally different is self-value. I didn’t believe that I was worth anything in my life. Throughout the years that was reaffirmed to me by certain family members that would harshly remind me often. And while, the dysfunction of my upbringing played a bigger part in that I just notice that my friends who grew up with their dads around have a better vision of themselves than I do. Even the ones that went through divorce.

I guess I am sitting her and thinking about what life may have been like if I would have known my father when I was younger. Now that I am an adult, while I feel what could be considered an empty space in my life due to his absence, I just don’t know what to do with those feelings. I don’t want to find or track down a strange man that want nothing to do with me, but I also don’t want to mope through life desiring something that I have only seen through others or on TV.

I guess I’ll figure it out someday.

To be continued…

Fighting Mediocrity

 

I think the one thing about Christianity today and the appeal that it has for so many is this concept that you are special. There is this belief that you are more than just a name. The thing I think that the church capitalizes on these days is the idea that is driven home that you matter to the world and there is a unique purpose that you have. The western church gives people identity. It assigns you a name before the most high God and gives you a place at the table. With or without scripture to back it up.

I think one of the things that I struggled with most once I stepped away from the organized church in an effort to really test my belief system that I so strongly believed in, was the feeling of being regular. In the organization of the church I was someone. I had a name, I had a place and I mattered. But outside of that system I was Just a girl who had a normal life. There were no spiritual espionages that were going on in another realm that needed my intense prayers, there were no life changing moments that need my hands to be laid upon them. It was just life. Bland and normal. Inside of the church world there was this drive to be relevant and to push people to Jesus. We were always moving and going and fighting the enemy. And for me, this seldom included learning the actual word of God that I professed to believe in. But that didn’t matter because I had purpose. I was a prophet. I was special. I had a seat at the table. I was the bride.

But was I?

Was I any of these things? Am I any of these things? Wouldn’t it be great to know for sure before I run around slaying spiritual demon dragons on behalf of my Lord and Savior?

I struggle with all of these things the more I actually study the bible I claim to base my life on. I find that like most people when you use something as a guide, more often than not you rationalize the things that seem to be “too much” in order to justify to yourself what you affix your beliefs to. In doing so, you miss key points that once examined can’t be over looked. The truth is if you chose to believe in something that has already been established long before you came into being; you have to accept the whole of it. And if you don’t, then you need to question if you truly believe in it or not.

I am not bashing the church or Christianity. But I realize that there were once questions that I could never ask in fear of being shunned. Now, I can. And the most dangerous thing a person can do, to any established system is question. The one freedom that most all deny is the freedom to question.

The one think I have yet to understand is why are some people privy to information while others aren’t, but are expected to dedicate their lives? And why some people are so willing to do so blindly.

Who knows? I suppose ill figure it out one day.

Starting Over

Sometimes the things you leave behind because you think they are bad, are the very things that will remind you later of how good you actually had it. I now realize that religion does not have all the answers.

I’ve never been too sure on how to live life effectively. I am more like a hermit crab that has  a broken shell. I don’t know what happened really. I was never this girl. I was the center of attention girl. The girl that went out all the time, took trips to places all the time. Spent my summer and winters visiting friends and their families all the time. And suddenly it stopped. It all seemed to stop. I devoted my life to a church and everything came to a crashing halt. I don’t blame the church. But I have found that a church is not the place for me to dedicate my life. In the years spend slaving serving this one particular organization I feel like I lost part of myself. I gave everything I was to being a part of this “family” and in the end I have absolutely nothing to show for it. The friends that I thought I made seemed to disappear once I decided that I needed to take care of myself more than the church. It’s been about a year since I have left the church that I was very involved with and I have not seen any of the people that I thought “loved” me. The most interesting of this is that about a week ago I received a Christmas card from a Pastor who was actually coming in to the church as I was leaving. It said “Thanks for being so amazingly faithful. We appreciate all you do for (insert old church here and random serving team that I wasn’t even a part of when I was going to said church)!!! You are truly a blessing!!!”

Now, initially I thought to myself, well maybe they were just trying be kind. But then I realize, that there were people there that I had or at least I thought I had genuine relationships with. People that I’ve prayed for and with during really turbulent times in my life and theirs. And not one of those people has sent me a card of text or anything since I decided to take a break. And to be totally honest, I didn’t initially think that my departure would be permanent. It just needed a break from being spiritually drained and told that I wasn’t doing enough. The crazy drama circles and the constant rejection from friends who once they got in with other friends who were higher on the chain had no room for me. I need a break from that to figure out what I was doing and why I was doing it. Was I in this for God or for man? I figured out that I had it all wrong in the end and I was looking for man. I was using God to find friends. Horrible I know. Shameful really. And to be honest it was one of the most foolish things I could have done. After all is said and done, I gave up what I thought was a bad life for an even worse one hiding behind religion. I drunk the kool-aid. I fell for the scheme. Looking back. I guess I was wrong when I said I had nothing to show for it. I am definitely a changed person. I am probably even better after the experience. The part that is difficult is having to start from scratch. I have to build all new friendships. My old friendships prior to church seem to have disappeared. They have grown on without me. My church friendships are done now. Now it seems I am starting completely over.

I am ok with that. But this interim of learning new people is trying. Especially for nights like this when I would just like to go hang out someplace with a friend.

Roommate Chronicles…

I guess after living on your own for a while you get used to doing things your own way. It takes a lot of adjusting to get used to doing things a different way.

Growing up in a small house with 12 people and one bathroom will change the way you picture shared space. After leaving that environment and living on my own as an adult there are something's that I like to have according to my own way. Unfortunately when you have a roommate that doesn't always seem to work.

My current situation is fascinating. I have a great roommate who loves to sleep on my couch.  I cant for the life of my understand it . She has  room with a bed but she refuses to use it. Initially when she moved in and everything started i figured that it would be ok. She just felt comfortable there and this is ok.  Now, 3 months in, this whole common area take over thing is driving me kind of crazy. Its been months since I have been able to enjoy a quiet Saturday morning with a cup of tea in my living room because she is sleeping on my couch.  This means that if i want to open my windows to get catch a beautiful weekend sunny morning i cant because she is turned my living room into her personal bat cave. Not to mention how I will have to toss the couch out when she moves out.

I suppose the most normal question is “why don't you discuss the whole, ‘just because its called a living room doesn't mean you actually LIVE in it.’?”  Well, its simple really. She has expressed why she does what she does. And, I am hoping that this will be over soon. Until then…I suppose i will just enjoy the beauty of the weekend mornings from my comfy bed. :-/

Shalom Shabbat!

These past couple of days have been nice!

 

Our house has gone from 2 bodies to 6 and its been quite sweet having R’s family in town. Her parents are really nice and her brothers are pretty cool. It seems that they are all gifted in some sort of musical skill.

 

Starting this past Monday my life was quite difficult. Work provided an interesting amount or hardship and I was on my last leg. I was considering quitting, I wasn’t sure if I could stand up under all the stresses that were coming. However, I made it through to the end of the week and I am feeling a lot better. It took a lot of prayer and honestly just not making any decisions in a place where a decision might be more costly the then problem at hand. I wont lie, this past week sucked! But even though I am not looking forward to going back to work on Monday and I am not looking forward to what may be awaiting me when I get there, I am encouraged because my perspective has shifted in the way that I look at life. There is purpose in the hard times. I have to remember it, knowing it isn't enough, I have to believe it. Its good to have people to have in your background. Thanking God for the best sister/roomie/BFF ever and all the wonderful people that can talk me down off the ledge.

 

Well, back to relaxing and deep moments of prayer.

 

Laters.