I got to work yesterday and walked in with co worker we were both a little early so I went to my office and started on my mountain of responsibilities. Hoping if things were slow I would get caught up from my two days off. After the rest of the crew arrived someone came into my office and said the coworker was crying hysterically in the bathroom.
I went in to find out what was going on and she couldn't talk. She wouldn't open the door to the stall but after a little prodding finally came out. Evidently she lives with her dad and she was suppose have deep cleaned the house the day before and had to work late and didn't get it done. She had left him a note that after work she would be home to finish. He called right when we opened and started yelling at her.
The back story to this is that he found out he was sick last week. He is lashing out and made the statement "you are trying to kill me" to her. I hugged her until the crying stopped and said this isn't about you it is about him. He is scared and you are the closest and safest person to lash out at. I know him and he is a perfectionist and his standards for himself and everyone else is really high. He takes care of everything and has the energy of 3 people. I feel a growth opportunity ahead.
I felt sad for her and it reminded me of my riff with my dad. It seems sometimes parents don't see their kids as separate adults with feelings. At least that is my experience with my family. They thought I was a tool to make their lives a little easier. I owed it to them because they were paying my way. This was totally my dad. He was raised on a farm where you hoped for as many boys as possible to keep things going. He was the oldest and ended raising his three younger brothers and two sisters while his mother worked at a mill.
People that we love and that are suppose to love us we just can't see each other as fully formed. They are a version of our imagination a story we have about each other from the past instead of who we are now. He said to her "you have a terrible work ethic" after she spent time off work last week taking him to the doctor. This isn't the first time I have been a part one of the incidences. She wants so bad to to please a man that cannot be pleased.
I wanted to call him and say "you know your daughter can walk out of your life and never come back." This is what I did only after I could not take the emotional abuse from my stepmother. I was never enough for her and my dad never stood up for me. It didn't matter how carefully I cleaned the house to her specifications or the errands I ran or even when I gave her flowers. I was invisible unless I wasn't meeting her standards.
I was just a young girl who had lost her mother looking for someone to let me know that I mattered. When I left they didn't even try to stop me this re-in forced what I already knew. I was not loved or cherished. At least this is what I took with me that day.
I do know now that this wasn't personal. My dad and my stepmother were not the adults in the room that day. They were stuck and not capable of giving more and would never be. My sister and I spoke about this during my visit. She was going on about how my dad had said he was sorry about not being there for her. The girl in me said " did he say anything about me" still longing for evidence that I meant something to him.
I recently heard Joel's message called "The blessing" it was how important dads are in their daughter's lives. How they are the first example of how men treat women. How girls can repeat that relationship over and over. I really get that I have repeated the relationship of indifference over and over my whole life. At work at home and even with my friends. These relationships feel familiar to me and I know how to play my part. Joel's final word was the God can be the father you wanted.
I have been a little weepy today gathering my thoughts. I cried yesterday hugging my co-worker and hoping she can somehow understand she is enough no matter what her dad thinks. It is just his opinion and she has the power to decide whether to let it control her life.
My father did love me in his limited way and I could have made more of an effort to bring us together but my own pain and immaturity kept me from doing that. When he died we were on good terms and I have made peace with both our limitations. I guess today I am still healing.
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