The Old Wound That Never Really Healed

Oh look... the blog I forget I have until I have a dream I feel like recording/sharing. Except I barely remember dreaming anymore as my sleep patterns are trash due to work schedules and habits. Anyhow, I sleep heavier as a result. On the plus side, haven't had sleep paralysis in... I'm not sure how long it's been, but it's been a long time.

I suppose I could touch on a topic that has come to mind as of late for some reason. TRIGGER WARNING TO FUTURE SELF... the shit upsets me when I think about it too much. So, down deep into the rabbit hole of my brain, where it's dark and cold. Where to start... So, my parents divorced when I was a wee bebe. My mother got custody and didn't tell me all what went down with my father except pieces here and there into adulthood. She didn't want to trash talk and to let me form my own opinions of him. Quite frankly, he was a shit father. The number of times he has called me I could probably count on one hand, maybe two. ...maybe, but probably not. I didn't meet him until I was 12 (and haven't seen him since). Of course, he legally had to pay child support. We were poor when I was a kid, so that would have helped. However, he would dodge it and even hid from other family members (his parents and siblings) when one of my aunts ratted out his info to help us. When I was a kid, I would spend summers with relatives. It would alternate which grandparents I was with for a few weeks. He never came to visit while I was with his parents. There was even a time when he had been there prior to me coming. I remember hearing about him seeing my little cousins and buying them whatever little things it was... that just stung. He has always had knowledge of my home info address/phone or at the very least knew where to find it. Over the years, was either nothing or the rare big box of holiday presents. Can't buy my affection, but it's nice to know my existence has been remembered. Fast forward into adulthood... he eventually paid off the back child support to my mother, somewhere in my early 20s. I don't remember how old exactly, but that shit would have been more useful when I was a kid. At some point a bitterness towards the bastard had formed. I hate my middle name, because it was named after him. Move forward to... 26? 28? around there somewhere. He emails me. He informs me Grandpa passed, which my other relatives seemed to have forgotten to tell me (fucking ouch). I'm not one to want to hold on to negative emotions, so he wanna try and be less shit, ok. I'll hear him out. We email each other for a while. I've spoken to him on the phone a handful of times. After a while, some personal shit happens in his life, things involving a hospital and he's seeing another woman before the previous one moved out. The emails become less frequent. I'm not sure if it's the holidays with the emphasis on families and whatnot or his profession and my bf building a new pc (and having troubles), but I'm reminded. Last email was for last new year apparently. That anger, those hurt feelings being felt again. I don't know if he's having physical issues or just being a bastard because he's happy with his latest lady. I don't know who emailed who last and quite frankly I don't give a shit. Enough time has passed that it doesn't matter. Also, more importantly I DON'T OWE HIM SHIT. Even when we were on more positive terms, I felt anxiety when he talked about how he'd like me to come up there some time. Email is just text on a screen, same as this blog. Going out of my way, to leave home, to see him face to face after all these years is a huge step and I can't be the one to make that effort.

If you're reading this old man, fuck you.