So my mother, whether rightfully or unrightfully so, gets the blame for my childhood and adulthood challenges. Well, I had a slap-in-the-face epiphany yesterday when I saw a current day photo of my biological father. He looked frail, like a grandpa. And he is a grandpa. There was a picture of him holding the hand of his granddaughter, who is about two years old, the same age I was when he left me. I hysterically started crying and the suicidal thoughts began immediately.
As part of my suicidal ideation, I chose my death date which I decided to be my birthday. And given my birthday is coming up, my mental health is increasingly fragile. I made an emergency appointment with my therapist after seeing this picture. I will see her later this afternoon. So what was triggered?
The image of him holding his granddaughter’s (and I suppose my niece’s) hand brought up jealousy and feelings of abandonment. Why does she get him? What is it about her that is good enough to hold her hand instead of walking out of her life and returning years later with a bitch wife and despicable, gross wedding anniversary date. (Spoiler alert: it’s my birthday. Yes, my biological father remarried and the date he and his bride chose, out of 365 days, was my very own birthday. #foreversalty)
I was also hit with the realization of his mortality. He’s getting old. He looks old, worn. Will I ever talk to him again? Will he die with us never finding redemption and grace for ourselves? I don’t think he would be surprised if I killed myself. He was there when it almost happened before. As I laid on the living room floor after a seizure from the meds I downed with alcohol the night prior, he looked at peace any time I would catch of glimpse of his face. He just stood at my loft window…staring out into space and…remembering his own suicide attempt a decade prior? Did he want me to die? I had just found out an awful family secret that week, which was a large part of why I attempted to take my life.
September is always a hard month for me because it is my birthday month and I have very strong feelings and beliefs surrounding my birthday and inherent worth. Much of that stems from my biological father, feelings and beliefs that have always been exacerbated by my mother’s erratic display of love and acceptance.
All I know to do is write. Collage. See my therapist. Walk. Pet my dog. Clean. Hug my husband.
Wake me up when September ends.
Photo by Florian Klauer on Unsplash
