Captivating - Chapter 4

I’ve had my doubts about whether or not I should post this on my blog – but now that I’ve written it all down, I’m at peace with every event you’re about to read. It’s part of what makes me, me. And that is exactly who God wants me to be. Thanks for reading.

“How a father relates to his daughter has an enormous effect on her soul – for good or for evil.” -page 62,Captivating

Ever see a movie or hear a story that hits a little too close to home? Yeah. That was me and Chapter 4.

When I was almost 20, 2 years into my bachelor's degree in Education, I had to take 2 or three developmental and educational physchology classes one after another. Somewhere in that first class, I started have these memories of my childhood come back to me. (I believe "supressed" is the technical term.) And most of those memories had to do with my relationship to my dad.

I remember him being around as a kid. He worked long hours from what I was told, but I remember him fixing a swing set for us in the back yard – crawling up under the house to run telephone lines- going up in the attic to put up or pull down boxes or some other junk – him horsing around with the dogs in the back yard – holding the light for him while he worked on cars. Him always taking tub baths & watching MASH on his little 8 inch screen black & white TV while in the tub. He was a cop, a truck driver, a pawn shop worker, a janitor, a groundskeeper, a retail salesman (at Radio Shack, Auto Zone, Lowe’s), and worked in a warehouse. (And all that was before I was 18 or 20.)

But as we (I have two younger sisters) got older, he distanced himself from us. Almost like he didn’t know how to deal with or want to deal with these teen & pre-teenagers in his house. I do remember his distance. But I guess I associated that with his often working two jobs and the fatigue/stress he had from them. Other people told me how proud he was of me. It never came from the horse’s mouth – except when I got into National Honor Society in high school, and that was only though a smile and a flower arrangement. (And that’s a lot considering the nerd that I was – graduating 8th in my class of 206.) He tried to do a lot for me – but he was really never emotionally or financially able to do much. I somehow was the good kid out of the 3 of us girls – and tried so hard to do well, and please him. I wanted him to be proud of me. I was the helper – the volunteer. But always the contemplative one, as you can tell by my long entries about each chapter. (But you only see these kinds of things in hind-sight….)

What I had repressed were his 2 week stay in a mental institution, his suicide attempts (2 more since I’ve been an adult), his harsh words / accusations / behavior towards me (expecting academic perfection and high moral chastity), and an attempted sexual encounter when I was 15 that I had never told anyone about until I was almost 19 (to my then serious boyfriend).

I don’t think I ever even told my husband until sometime after our daughter was born. Somewhere in that crazy mess of post-partum hormones, it all came to the surface. He knew that my dad and I hadn’t always gotten along – that he was a stubborn man who didn’t have much to say about anything- but had no idea that my father had ever been so unkind and defiling towards me. I saw pure fear and hatred in my husband’s eyes that day. He was driven to protect our new daughter & me at all costs.

When my niece was born 8 years ago, I saw a side of my dad that I’d never seen before. He was SMILING!! (Mom has always called him “Old Stoney Face.”) And was playing with this sweet new life! He still loves that little girl, and I see the same love in his eyes as he delights in my daughter. My mom says that he was always that way with us when we were young…. I just wish I could find out what happened for that joy to wither and die.

Time heals all wounds… and dulls the initial shock and pain of life’s twists & turns. We learn to forgive, but it’s so hard to truly forget. If it’s God’s will for my dad to see my daughter grow and mature into the wonderful woman that I pray she will be, I would welcome the almost “second chance” to see how or why things change. Yeah, I know it’s different when they’re grandkids, but it’s worth a shot.

I am so blessed to see how my husband cherishes, celebrates and loves our little girl –and tells her, every single day. And I pray that one day I can hear my dad tell me that he loves me. But if I never do, I’ve always got my husband (who tells me “I love you” many times a day) and a loving Father in heaven who tells me “I love you,” with every breath I take.