I've been on vacation. March 9th was my 49th birthday. 49. What the fuck, man - where has the time gone? My life is more than half over. I don't say that out of a desire for pity - frankly, the way the world is right now, I have no desire to live to be very old. That being said, I guess I'd better get my ass in gear and keep up with this writing project.
I've spent the majority of my vacation sitting on my ass, eating crappy food and wearing nothing but ugly pajamas. I don't go out much, but then I rarely do. Been watching a lot of repeats, Whose Line Is It Anyway? when I need a laugh, reruns of Unsolved Mysteries when I just need background noise while I work on my various art projects. The latter has me 95% convinced that I need serious therapy, and soon. No matter how many times I say I am over it, or don't care, I still have severe abandonment issues. Whenever an episode plays out in which a person or persons makes a public plea to help them find their long lost brothers/sisters/parents/whatevers, the bitterness within me reaches toxic levels. I wonder what it's like to have siblings that want you, that miss you, that wonder if you're okay. The smiles and tears and sappy music that accompany the reunion episodes create something in my gut that feels both like a solid stone and a deep, echoing hole. Where the fuck is my reunion?
I went chasing after my younger sister and brother for nothing. The sister stuck around for maybe 6 months, then deleted her FB account and never spoke to me again. The brother never made a single effort to speak to me or get to know me. Am I so unlikable, so repulsive? I made no demands of them, even asked permission if it was okay to include them in my life. My requests were met without enthusiasm: I was neither discouraged or encouraged. I think my sister became irritated with me because I kept searching for more family. I'm the one who finally cut my brother off, after three months of silence because he couldn't be bothered to take a break from video games long enough to say "Hi."
I wonder sometimes how my older sister feels. Does she have the same resentment towards me and my mother that I have towards my father and siblings? Or is she glad to be rid of us? Sometimes I want to message my dad's widow and tell her all the rotten things my father did, and lied about, and covered up and tried to run away from. But what good would that do? It's not her fault for believing him, although her question to me: "How did you find us? We were always careful not to be found." makes me wonder why she never thought to ask her husband what he was hiding from, or who? Maybe she had her own reasons to run away. I can't assume she was compliant in my father's crimes.
But sometimes I want to lash out at both my younger brother and sister and demand to know why I wasn't wanted, why they didn't care as much as I did, why they still don't. I want to dig up my father's body from that cemetery in Kentucky and reanimate him just long enough to demand an apology. Why did he think he could just leave me and not have to account for his actions? I wasn't a suitcase, or a worn out pair of shoes. He owed me.
I don't know how to forgive. How do you just say: "I forgive you" and move on? I don't forgive them. They've done nothing to earn my forgiveness so how can I just fork it over? They want my forgiveness even less than they wanted me.
I'm starting to get whiny. Better shut the fuck up now.