Of Tuna & Trees

I've lost count of how many hours have gone by where I haven't properly slept. It is rare that I really actually sleep. I'm tired and I'm resting on a bed but I'm never fully unconscious. Fifteen minutes go by and I'm awake again. Constantly, there is evidence that I'm sad or afraid even if I can't always identify where those feelings are coming from.

My dad and I talked today for awhile. He is the definition of broken at the moment and it hurts to hear him struggling. I've always known my dad was a deeply unhappy person, but he is proud and has always denied that fact so to have it be so obvious and known now hurts between my ribs. I can physically feel pain in my body when I talk to him. He was explaining how Jenna hasn't been very understanding with him right now as he tries to keep Shelia from pulling out the floor beneath him, I suppose. Apparently Jenna gave him an ultimatum that he either has to leave his wife or she will no longer have anything to do with him. This is very much like something my sister would do because, believe it or not, I'm not the colorful dramatic daughter. Of course, I do manage to find some humor in this because every time I've said something like this in my life, my sister has been the first to tell me how horrible and selfish I am. She says if I was to ever kick Dad out of my life I would be punishing Hayley, the eternal innocent in her mind. Further proof that Jenna is generally only affectionate and considerate for a period of time, a very fragile and quick moment that will stay with you during the next period of time in which she backs you up into a wall and smashes your heart out of your body and onto the floor. Of course, my sister could never survive without my Dad. It just is not possible for her. She very much relies on him for even the simplest of tasks. However, there is no doubt in my mind she could make things much more uncomfortable for him. On one hand, I love my father and I want to console him, but I see things from my sister's eyes and I have her pain memorized since I know the terror that is Shelia.

It brought up an interesting question, though. My dad kept asking why no one could just let things that happened some fifteen – sixteen years ago go? I have a lot of answers to this. Most of them are personal to the situation. I can pin point moments he looked at me, then a toddler, and telling me explicitly what a “fucking bitch” his wife was, I can remember pulling over in the middle of dark residential streets and having him kick Jenna or I out of the car for crying about how sad we were, and it's easy to recall Shelia ignoring our voices or publicly humiliating me in the middle of a Price Chopper or a family dinner. But I think the answer is a lot more universal than any of those moments. Things always hurt more when you're a child. When someone hurts us now, we can justify where they are coming from, we can listen long enough to somewhat understand their motives, or maybe we know their motives. We can continue because we have thick skin, we have been on a journey for years and someone's knife in our back or sabotage can't ever be strong enough to stop us. When you're a child, though, there is no reason. It's just malice. No one can have a valid excuse to why they hurt you, they just do. You're innocent and they should know better. That's why we can't forgive the things done to us as children because they have no reason. They have just happened. Someone else had control.

I apologized to my dad about everything. He most likely would have lied to Shelia as he does multiple times a year to keep the small morsel of peace in his life, tell her he was going on a business trip to Calgary, and then come to New York. However, I told him he had to tell her the truth. He surprised me, though. He said that there is no reason that he shouldn't be able to tell Shelia a truth this basic. He said, “This should be simple, Michelle. One goes home and tells their wife, they're going to spend some time with their daughters and the wife replies with, 'Okay'.” I'd like to copy that sentence and give it to her. It's really my point of view. Despite being married to someone, some things just don't matter. If she said, “Art, I'm eating tuna.” That's not a moment where he really has the option of saying 'yes' or 'no'. She isn't asking a question, breaking a law, or doing anything that pains him indirectly. I really hate to compare myself to tuna, but it is just as simple as that. Your spouse doesn't get to dictate everything you do. Actually, come to think of it, I don't know if your partner really gets much say in anything you do as an individual. It's nice to have their support and approval, but at the end of the day, should it stop you?

So, thus I have wrestled with another basic question as if it was an earth-shattering decision. They have let it rest with me whether or not Hayley comes along on this trip though judging by the tone of the conversation, it sounds as if she is going to be. I told my Dad today and yesterday (after many hours of verbal ping-pong) that she could, that I didn't care. I think the most common lie told is 'I don't care'. It's kind of like a self-fulfilling prophecy. We claim that we don't care because we desperately wish we didn't. Everything would be considerably easier if things didn't weigh so heavy on us or hold as much significance. Of course, though, I do care. My father is important to me and I am selfish, I want my time with him. I feel entitled. I convinced myself for a few hours that everything was fine. The four of us would go on this trip and nothing would be different. However, the fact that this thought now makes the corner of my eyes well up, my stomach tense, and throat sore makes it abundantly obvious to me that I don't want this. However, we can't always get what we want and, in this case, maybe it's best that I don't. One thing remains the same, though, as I think about this: I don't want to go now. It's the only honest thing that I feel about this situation. I have been saying things to comfort those affected by the selfish and immature manner my step mother conducts herself. I have given them all different opinions and stood by their sides, I have listened to them, I have tried my best to play the right role be it 'sister' or 'daughter', but when I'm alone and it's only my thoughts. I don't want to go. I am happy to let the three of them have a good time together the way that Jenna, my father, and I once have. Let them create memories that way. I really wouldn't feel left out at all. This wouldn't make me happy, but it wouldn't destroy me. Maybe, I'm learning how to turn myself off or sacrifice better, but I'm okay with it. I'd like them to take New York. It makes sense to me when people go. My dad has made it very clear that he will not let this happen though, that he will not go without me. I don't want Hayley to come, but if she doesn't, it will hurt her and my stepmother will play the domino next to that pain and hurt my father who doesn't deserve the feeling. Neither does Hayley. This hurt isn't something I'm immune to. I've been on the receiving end of Shelia's belligerence for the majority of my life and it no longer stings. It irritates and it angers, but there's no scars after wards. Usually, at worst, there is a head ache. A ringing pain to remind me that things aren't pleasant. Life would find it's own way to be imperfect without her, though. The sky would rain too long or there would be the wrong Fraiser re-run on. The point is, I don't care about this trip. I care about my father's well being. All I want is for Shelia to be silenced long enough for him to go away, for my little sister to feel a part of a family that doesn't exist, and for Jenna to calm down. I am as happy to sit at my computer and type up a make believe world as I am to walk around my favorite city on Earth.

My sister sent Shelia an e-mail. I haven't read it, but I suppose it was just her trying to explain the situation and the intention behind taking my Dad to New York. It was a birthday gift in the beginning. Perhaps, we should have bought him another cardigan as those generally go unnoticed by Shelia. I didn't realize I had to run the presents I give my father past a woman who has never ran anything by me, not even what we eat on my birthday dinner. For that matter, a woman who doesn't often practice considering others values or opinions. Anyway, Jenna's email said something like we had planned this shortly after our mom died, something nice to do for the three people who were, arguably, impacted the most by her death. I don't know what Shelia replied, but I've been told that she did point out just as Jenna and I have suffered a loss, so has she and Hayley, the loss of Art every time he spends time with us. I wasn't aware that the cremation of one's body, the eternal absence of a mother, and the pain of watching someone die could be compared to the 70 minutes my father spends with me on Mondays where we eat shrimp and watch a movie or the 30 minutes that goes by when he is at Jenna's house fixing something. According to my father, Shelia realized what a remarkably ignorant comparison she made. I just thought that was an interesting tidbit. I've always known my dad stands firmly in my corner, but the reassurance and proof are nice to have. For a long time I've wanted to see him stand up for me to her, I know that's all Jenna has ever wanted, so maybe that's why it's easier for me to step down from this trip now.

I don't hate Shelia because hate would require some kind of passion. Even if I did dislike her, the love I have for my father outweighs any spite or concern I have for anyone. I want my father to be happy and I don't know how to make him. All I am aware of, at the moment, is how to make things a little bit easier and that is to let Hayley come along. Personally, I'd rather not be a part of the facade that that trip would produce, so I can happily back away and stay out of it. This way the main problems in this scenario are given sound solutions. Jenna would be happy. Shelia would be smug. Hayley would feel included. My dad might not be happy, but he will not have to try and fit the needs of so many people.

It's like I wrote months ago, “If we don't change the direction we are headed, we will end up where we are going.” I can't see this going somewhere positive, so I'd like to adjust the sails while I still can.

Thanks for 'listening', I suppose. I don't really believe in a God, but it means a lot to me that somehow I was given the ability to write out my thoughts in a way that consoles me. This is really the only honest thing I do with myself. No one knows how tightly I wrap my life around writing.

This was just a ramble, but I think it's how I feel right now. I'm not sure.

Maybe, this is just me trying to relate myself to tuna and trees. Maybe, I just feel as if I'm important enough to write my thoughts down.

My life is endlessly good, but this momentarily sadness is heavier than me tonight.

I love you.