Words Hounding a Page

I haven’t been too chatty lately. For the past week I felt I was losing my rockers. My Dad is having a quadruple by-pass, tomorrow they say it will be now. It was going to be Monday then he had some more heart attacks and they had him on a nitro drip. So then it was going to be today but now I hear it will be tomorrow. They told him he had 80% blockage. You don’t get that by living sensibly. Is it cruel and insensitive to say he deserved it? I am his daughter. Who can be cruel and insensitive if not your daughter?

He has always been stupid about his health. He eats garbage and he loves to yell and spaz at us. It’s definitely cruel to say that some part of me is saying “nah, nah, nah” all the time in the back of my mind. I once wrote about calling the men in your lives ‘bastard!’ and I know I was thinking of him as much as my ex-husband. I’m not sure who I was angrier at then. Now the ex is fading into the past. But, my Dad is always lurking around. Ready to snap at me, blame me, tell me what a loser I am. Anyway, nah nah nah! Bastard.

Yes, it’s horribly rude, cruel and disgraceful of me. But, there you go. I never aspired to perfection. Being perfect would be boring and lonely and far too much work. So I will happily be imperfect and partially messed up.

I can live with it.

He might die. We don’t know anything for sure. I don’t wish for him to die. But I admit I do like the idea that he is going to get a little misery back for all he has inputted all these years. I wonder what will happen next time he tries a spaz attack. Usually his eyes bug out, his face turns red then purplish and his voice blows hot wind over your general environment. Pollution, the pollution of years of violence suspended. No, he seldom hit me or us. But the verbal abuse was more than enough pollution. I can’t fully get over it. No matter how much I tell myself nothing he said matters, that he never got to know me so his opinions carry no weight. Still, it all sunk in too deep too long ago. I can’t get over it or around it and I can’t seem to get past it.

I don’t know if you can make yourself believe in yourself just cause you say so, to yourself. It does seem there has to be someone else to back it up. Not even that. Cause anyone who tells you how good you are gets qualified. Your brain is geared up for qualification so well, it can do it on auto pilot. Tell me how well I write and I know I’m only faking it, or I’m not getting paid or I’m really not even putting my full effort into it. So, how well am I writing really. Qualifications make the grrl drag on. I don’t get things done, I procrastinate cause I’m afraid to even start to try.

It’s all so silly cause I know I can do it. I know I can write. I love to write. I love watching my words take shape on the keyboard. I love the sound of my own words as they fly out on the page. I love words and I love writing them, giving them order, purpose and style. My style!

So, what holds me back. I’m not always sure. Fear of failure, fear of having someone confirm that I really am just a phoney after all. For, once someone does that, there will be no hope at all. How can I overcome someone confirming what I’ve been afraid really is true all along.

What a lot of words on a page. Isn’t that the whole point of a journal? A chance to let your brain stop holding back and just release the hounds! Let them see what they can catch today. So the hounds were out there. I don’t think they caught much. But it will be interesting to see what kind of soup it will make when it all gets cooked up.

Happy day!

PS- Today I found out that I did get the days off to meet Eric in Ottawa! Great news. Now I can start being happy again and planning the trip. 🙂

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