My father will read this, sooner or later, but it is unlikely that he will ever say anything about it.
I will never ask him to read it, nor if he has read it... and that bothers me. Not that I expect him to read it, but that I can't just talk about this stuff. That I can't seem to talk about anything.
I am finally starting to be able to explain things, and that seemed such a victory, but I now realize it is so little.
I really don't want to type this. I would love to just forget it all. I don't want to share all the most gruesome details of my personal life, oh no, for fear of scaring you all off, I think. And for fear of scaring me off. And because I don't want to have to deal with the replies that I will get.
But I seem to be writing anyway.
Yes. There's the link. I typed that much. Even went back and capitalized it. *sigh* Why does this fear have to make this so much work? Why can't it be easier? Why can't I just talk?
Can't really seem to listen either. Or understand.
I can explain things, a bit more, and that makes it all the more difficult. Not being able to explain anything provided a pretty good excuse to shut up. Stupid writing website. Now I have to talk, to articulate those things that hurt so much to not be able to say before. But it's still not complete. Not by far.
Far more men than women are affected. My father's father, my father, to a lesser extent, and me. I see them acting in manners similar to my own, and it seems like obnoxiousness - I don't see just how much it is me.
Never really had any friends, as a child, or even more recently. And that never bothered me.
Now I want to have friends, and I realize, somehow, that it is work. So difficult for me to understand - that I have to pay attention to their faces, to the little looks they make... this does not come at all naturally to me, and I don't even think to do it. I don't know how to think to do it - it's not that I want to be unfriendly, or that I don't want to listen, but I just don't know how to see this stuff.
This is the part that I am really avoiding typing. But you asked. You could stop reading now, and spare me quite a feeling of guilt.
I got really upset with my father tonight. Really really upset. Again. This has to stop, I know,... but how do I even continue to be so... so scary?
We were talking, about nothing really, and he stopped to try to explain something. I got upset because he wouldn't talk, he got more upset because of my screaming and waving my fists at him... I wanted to just destroy something, to drive my car into a tree, something so that I wouldn't have to deal with this. I wouldn't do any of these things, I hope, but it feels so much better to say them, even to think them.
I made him cry. I stomped around and waved my fists... and I got as upset last night. Why can I not listen? Where is the patience that other people have for me?
This scares me. Incredibly. I think, at times like this, I am too much of an optimist. I want to believe that just by a bit of willing and forgetting that I can make it all better. I don't want my father to be scared when he tries to ask me anything, but I know he will be, and the chances of me being this way again are so high.
For goodness sake, I'm 22 years old.
I don't want to continue acting like this... There is this tension, perhaps because my father asks me hard questions, or because he actually asks for answers... I don't know. I want to be able to talk with him. And with everyone else.
I just want to be able to have a normal conversation. I want to learn to listen. At age 22.
I don't want to be isolated, not at all... I just don't know how to understand all those little bits that come from things other than the words. And I want to be able to talk to my dad.