I mean…I’m sorry I’m not sorry.
Part of the Girls on the Run curriculum is a lesson about emotions and how they are not good or bad, but some – like excitement and happiness – are more comfortable, and some – like jealousy and loneliness – are more uncomfortable to feel.
I really like that. Since I learned it as a sophomore in college, I’ve been a big proponent of “feel your feelings” and this adds a new step to it…to acknowledge that feelings are not always comfortable, but that they’re okay.
As uncomfortable as they are to feel, sometimes they’re even more uncomfortable to express, but I’m getting better at that and this weekend I tried. A few times. To family members and a friend. I told them I was lonely, I told them I was unhappy. And I kind of got ignored. I guess my uncomfortable emotions make other people uncomfortable too?
While there’s a lot of talk of how blogging can place a lot of pressure to be happy and perfect and wonderful all the time, I think blogging has a lot to do with my increasing ability to be real. Granted, I keep two blogs, this naked one and one more public and perhaps more shiny and happy, but I’m saying what I need to say in so many spaces in my life and I think it’s because I’m now used to just laying it all out there.
Or I’m getting old and I just don’t give a fuck anymore. One of the two.
With the exception of me attempting to discuss my feelings (ew), my family was very comfortable on Sunday. My mom forced a dinner and I had to talk myself into it all week long. They all were pretending like nothing had gone wrong, like nothing was wrong and everything was back to “normal.” Funny the way family totally redefines that word.
I took the pup, so he was a big focus, but since it was the first get-together since my sister and her husband returned from their honeymoon, there was recap wedding talk. Just when I thought it was over. Everyone ignored the fact that it’s not a happy memory for me.
I bit my tongue when snarky comments wanted to come out, respecting that my dad hadn’t wanted to discuss the issues in front of my mom before and with the way everyone was acting, I knew no one else wanted the faux-happy Sunday to be brought down either.
My dad asked me questions about the dog and I answered politely, but didn’t really feel the need to say goodbye to him when I left. Then the pup slept all the way home while I cried. I’m so hurt that my family could just ignore the situation. I don’t want to harp on it, I don’t want to talk about it all the time, but literally there’s been no resolve and everyone else is okay with that.
So, yesterday, I wrote down everything I wanted to say to my dad – essentially that I’m offended that he hasn’t taken responsibility for his actions thus far and I’m hurt that he’s been treating me poorly for a while now.
So, then I was faced with the question…did I write it for therapeutic reasons or did I write it to send it? I felt better after I wrote it, but I realized I felt better knowing that my dad would read it and truly know how I feel about everything.
So I clicked send. I’m glad he didn’t fire off something back, but now I’m reaching the “how long do I wait until I take his silence as acceptance of my statement that I don’t need a forced, circumstantial relationship if he doesn’t want to get real and be involved in my life?” point.
After I sent it, I felt a little apprehension. Nervousness that I traded his comfort for my own. He was settling back into a comfort zone when I saw him on Sunday, assuming things were swept under the rug. But, I was quite uncomfortable and it’s not fair for me to hold it all in. My family might be number two (although I’m not sure that’s a position they deserve right now), but I’ve got to look out for number one and I’m going to keep talking about my feelings until someone listens, darn it!
Oh yeah, and sorry I’m not sorry for the emo brain dump you just read.