Mom's sorting, I'm sad.

You'd think I'd gotten used to the idea my father wasn't coming back over twelve years ago when he was incarcerated.
Maybe it's that Mom finally went through with the divorce that's bothering me, though that was months ago. Seeing all his stuff in piles in the hallway, having her asking me if things are his or ours (me or my sisters), it's bothering me. Quite a bit.
He gets out in less than a month. I haven't gone to see him in at least six years. I don't want to either. I'm still mad, bitter, and frustrated with him.

He's the reason I don't attach, that I'm afraid to talk to anyone. No matter what I said or did, no matter what I got on a paper from school- when he was around I was wrong, I could have done better. Always the underlying tone that he'd wished I was a boy. I did too, he surely paid more attention to them then he did us. (We didn't know why then). It was always during the summer. They all called him Uncle Michael, he took them for boat rides, motorcycle rides, our (summer trailer) house had lots of boys toys, though were girls. Because we were his kids we were always last in line, it was so unfair! His excuse: "You can go anytime" which was never true. We got older, and as they did they slowly stopped coming over, to be replaced by younger ones, never older than about thirteen.

To know that the man who is your father successfully lied to you (and the whole family)for 15+ years is hard to take. To feel stupid for letting him. But he is/was good at manipulation.

Mother said "Daddy adapts."(yes,she still calls him my daddy, and, well, he is)today and I thought: "That's the problem!" and the scary thing is, I think I do too, in some ways.
Example: I don't like leaving my house, groups of people, big empty places, small spaces, eating in front of people, playing group games (because inevitably I am the reason the team loses), or not having a structured activity when dealing with others (if there are "plans" I can concentrate on that and not the fact that I'm nervous, awkward, and stupid).
Yet I did ALL of these things to go see Tom Milsom in Seattle, and I deal with them for my job too. I think that's why I'm sick when I get done, all the "dealing" takes a toll on my body.

Thanks a lot dad, I guess?

The last time I talked to him on the phone all he could do was bible thump. The man coming out of jail is not the man we knew. Er, wait, the man we saw. No one knew him, he was hiding all the time.


First time I heard this song I fucking bawled.


I am an adult, why the fuck am I still having to deal with this shit?

I need a cigarette.