I got extremely depressed last night. You know how there are times where you can get depressed from an event, or you can get depressed in general? The event depression comes on in what feels like 0 to 100. Something happens, there is a reaction that triggers many things deeply, and then there is depression. The general depression I’ve experienced rolls in, more like a wave, I can feel it coming days before it finally hits and takes me underneath the current.
Yesterday was an event depression. A quick extreme low that was apparently necessary. My sister and I happened to talk a lot yesterday, for many reasons actually, our mom talked to her brother to let him know she wasn’t coming for the holidays. Of course because of me. Then me, my sister and my son all got the same message from her at the same time, “Hope you have a good weekend! Love you.” Is she really breadcrumbing us? We had to talk about that on an actual phone call. But before all of that, my sister and I talked a bit about my dad. She sent me a message last night after talking to him (to say Happy Veterans Day) and how he was happily hanging out with his new friend. His new wife has a daughter, her husband he calls his son-in-law. They have a daughter he’s seemingly very proud of. And it hit me like it never did before. So I messaged my sister back, “Dad got a new family, that’s why he doesn’t really acknowledge us anymore.” And it’s true. He’s nice enough when we call. Or when we say happy birthday, happy veterans day, when I send him pictures of my sons art. But he doesn’t reach out or try to establish a deeper relationship. Why would he? He has a no effort new family right in his same neighborhood. Plus we are attached to negative memories, like the memory of our mother.
So my sister and I, we talked about this, we really for the first time talked it through. While our dad may not have failed as bad as our mom, he gets a failing score too. Then I wanted to make sure I wasn’t romanticizing the time he did still live here, there were still problems, but at least I still had some semblance of a family I could count on for Sunday dinner. Now it’s been 4 years since I’ve seen my dad, but 5 or more since he’s moved away. I never properly allowed myself to feel the pain of not having him nearby, I refused to admit that I missed him in any way. It didn’t help that my mom has been grooming me to hate him since I could remember, that was always in the back of my head. I felt like I couldn’t trust anyone and I’m sure that hasn’t helped my relationships.
But then I got home and tried to do the damn laundry again. I just got a new washing machine, I thought I resolved this problem. Except I didn’t. And now this new machine isn’t draining. It must be a problem with the plumbing. So I couldn’t help it I just got incredibly angry and felt so incredibly helpless at the same time. This is when I need a dad. This is the perfect example. When something breaks in my house, when there is something wrong in my car, I have a complete meltdown. Because there is no one to call, there has never been anyone to call. Now I feel stupid, I’ve made an $800 mistake thinking it was a broken washing machine when really I just needed to call a plumber.
So I got angry, and then I let myself cry. I went upstairs leaving the basement and had a horrible headache. It sounds so dramatic but I suddenly wanted to die. I laid down and my dog came immediately as if I had called him, it made me laugh the way he tilted his head like, “You rang?” I patted the couch for him to come up and lay next to me. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do for the rest of the night.
I know, I know, this sounds so incredibly over the top because of a clogged pipe (or whatever is wrong), but the fact of the matter is my sister and I were never taught. We weren’t taught how to cook or clean or how to get a good job. We weren’t taught how to enroll in college or how to budget your finances or how to know when to call a plumber for your house. We just knew we had to learn how to survive, and we knew that because we knew we didn’t have their support. We’ve joked before that this in a way was a good thing because it kept us off hard drugs, there was no one that would help us if we fell. We always, since adolescence knew that. Since their divorce. I was 12, she was 16, since that moment we were on our own. And that frustrates me more than I can express, because my dad isn’t a bad guy. I’ve seen him help countless people. Hell, I’ve seen him save lives. It begs the question I always go back to, “why bring me into this world in the first place.”
So I woke up this morning, my dog slept by the foot of my bed all night. Normally he sleeps in my son’s bedroom, it was so sweet he didn’t want to leave my side. I wasn’t crying or visibly upset, it was more like I felt paralyzed by the weight of what is next. Asking for help. Calling for help. Something I always try to avoid. I feel embarrassed, I feel like I should’ve figured out the problem sooner, I feel like I should be able to take care of this myself. I know I’m paying for a service, I know they probably won’t outwardly judge me from what they find in the drain in my basement, but these are the thoughts that paralyze me. This is what gives me the sudden onslaught of depression. But I will take it step by step, let go of the anger of wasting money on the washing machine. Somehow get the sopping wet clothes dry. Call for an emergency plumber. Breathe. Tell myself it will all be over soon. Try not to worry about the judgement. After all, I have to remember, I’m just a girl that was raised by wolves.
The Girl Without A Face 