~A Bitter Swallow~

I just found out from my sister that both her and my brother got something an actual email (via Facebook) from our dad over Christmastime. For those of you who are not familiar with my issues with my father, just know that we've been estranged from him for quite some time. There is a long, complicated story associated with it (it's always long and complicated, isn't it? Why can't it just be short and simple?).

So, I just found out he contacted them, and not me. I've yet to hear from my other sister if she heard from him. We're all on Facebook. We're all "friends" with him. I'm interested to see if she heard anything, since her and I bore the brunt of the "estrangedness". Or just plain "strangeness", if you like.

I'm not sure how I feel about this. I've tried really hard for many years to get over him and move on. I've got myself a nice, sturdy wall built up so that I don't have to care about him not contacting me. I've got plenty of other people in my life that love me. I don't need his love. Right?

Well, sometimes I feel like I'm not that strong. Sometimes I feel leaks and cracks in my fortress, and stuff leaks through. No more rays of sunshine and rainbows. More grey smog and stale water drops. Mouldy, putrid stuff. I don't like it.

But, what is one to do? I've tried to talk to him. I've written, I've called, I've sent birthday cards and Christmas cards, and just for the hell of it cards. Nothing. Nada. Oh, wait... I take that back. I get accused of being a spoiled, dirty rotten child who can't grow up. I'm completely at fault for everything that happened.

Whatever.

My mission is now to strengthen back up those defenses. I weakened them when I "friended" him on Facebook, I think. When he accepted the "friendship", some small glimmer of hope rose up and thought that maybe Facebook would give a neutral medium for us to start a conversation through, and maybe forge some new version of a relationship. I was mistaken. I haven't even gotten a simple hello since sending him the request.

So, I accept it and try and move forward. I lick my wounds, that I feel at this stage are largely self-inflicted. Bite me once, your fault- bite me twice, my fault type thing.