Own Weird Way

A few weeks ago I rummaged through a box of old letters and things from my dad, looking for a description of martial arts moves he wrote out for me, in exhausting detail, years and years ago. I thought they might be useful in self-defense training for my new job (more on that later…maybe). Naturally I was swept away in memories and spent the rest of the afternoon reading through the letters sent to me over the years; pale yellow pieces of paper filled with compassionate lectures and promises made in the distinctive, slanted penmanship of a convicted felon (two of my cousins went through a ridiculous inmate pen-pal phase and trust me, they all have the same handwriting…it’s a little creepy).

One thing you must understand about our relationship is that he went away when I was eleven years old. Our bond is sealed in bi-weekly envelopes and short, inconsistent visits. I guess in some ways I am still eleven years old.

But even before all that, childhood for me was not so much boy bands and sleepovers as it was Chess and cappuccinos. Evenings were cloaked in philosophical talks with Dad and I truly thought he knew just about everything there was to know- each word kept tightly clenched in tiny fists, locked away for safe keeping because I just knew I’d need to use all of that wisdom someday. The thing about Dad is he has no idea what it means to have a casual conversation, and he certainly didn’t have any idea how to relate to a young female child. Not on my level anyway. So I was always struggling to climb up to his.

Then I got older (as kids often do) and realized that perhaps Dad is less knowing than he is seeking. In the mind of a child- even an almost adult one- that can be a truly devastating realization. What was it that Steinbeck said? “There is one sure thing about the fall of gods: they do not fall a little; they crash and shatter or sink deeply into green muck.” Yeah, that’s it…  

I owe quite a bit to my dad. His carelessness unearthed my own survival instincts and his selfish actions inspired me to always strive for compassion. I inherited his relentless energy, which has provided a pretty solid foundation for my ambitious nature. He taught me many useful, albeit often age inappropriate things. I read Les Miserables when I was probably nine. I learned the fundamentals of driving a stick shift at such an early age that I forgot it all and now I can barely even drive an automatic! ;) He also suggested I read this book on how to teach yourself Calculus (that I still have…not opened) before I even mastered long division and he had me theorizing on the origin of life when all the normal kids were steady feeding their Gigapets.

I can recall a time in my early teens in which he sent me a damn near ten page letter detailing various Chess strategies. Quite frankly, all I really cared to master at that age was how to put some nice looking guitar pickin’ fella in check mate, ya dig? But the point is his heart is usually in the right place when it comes to his children. I respect and appreciate him for that. I am thankful to have a father who, despite screwing up big time, found a way to be a dad regardless…in his own weird way.

I find it strangely impossible to fully explain who I am without relating it all back to good ol’ Dad. Well for starters, we are both hyper active narcissists with bi-polar tendencies and a self deprecating sense of humor. For years, I idolized the genius I wanted to believe was my father so that I would not have to hate the weaker man whom I suspected lay deep beneath his overwhelming presence. I don’t know how to discuss this without giving away too many details that are really not mine to give away, but suffice it to say that the choices he made- the ones that eventually directed him into the animalistic life of structure and obedience he must now live- epitomize the raw disgust I have for certain humans and their abuse of emotional and/or physical power over others.

I have spent years struggling to understand and accept the severity of my dad’s crime(s). Even now, it is difficult to divulge so much information to you without immediately trying to follow up with some kind of defense or explanation for his actions. And the only reason I am sharing so much is because my journey through this piece of my life is precisely the reason I am able to sit here (at almost midnight, coffee cup to my left, school work being procrastinated on) and tell you that I genuinely like the woman I am becoming. She is good people. I welcome the future because I know I can count on her… well I’m about 85% sure I can count on her and that, my friends, is a passing grade.