Road trip to Louisiana commenced around 2am EDT Tuesday the 21st. Arrived at Dad’s around noon CDT on Wednesday the 22nd. Can’t do those 15-hour road-warrior sessions anymore, especially after several months’ worth of stressing out, then moving a lot of heavy things in a short time and stressing out some more over basically losing my daughter.
I’m being kept completely in the dark now; she rarely speaks to me and, despite his assurances prior to my leaving that he’d help get more of my things to me once I was here, he’s said nothing to me at all. It’s been a week since I left.
I mentioned to my friends on Facebook that this whole mess has been an exercise in letting go. Here it is again, more in that vein. I would really like his help, which he already stated under his own impetus that he would give, coordinating getting a few more things to me but I can’t make him care about something besides his penis and his reputation, which of course (typical for a man) won’t be hurt one bit by his bad faith or bad behavior. So my having a fit at him won’t accomplish anything.
Nothing he’s keeping there will prevent me functioning here as far as I know. I will just live my life, and we’ll see what happens. If I hear from him, cool. If not, when he’s done fucking Girl Genius*, he can fuck himself too.
I am not going to chase after the kid begging for her approval, either. There is a lot going on there that I haven’t discussed publicly, at least not with my real name attached to it, and basically it amounts to my child has joined the nonreligious version of a cult, one approved of by government, many religious groups, most medical authorities, large swathes of society (until they learn/understand what is actually going on) and probably her own father, who told me otherwise while I was still living in Ohio but as I’ve exhaustively laid out in previous posts, he is an habitual liar and I can’t trust him. She’s allowed this cult to interfere with her mental health and her employment and her progress as an athlete. Somehow this is all my fault, too, for not wanting her to destroy herself. I can’t see us having a normal mother-daughter relationship again for a while, and maybe not ever again.
Something else I have to let go. I could not even try to offer her an alternative (rational) viewpoint without her going into an anxiety spiral. So, cool. I’ll just back away down here to Coonass BFE where I can’t ruin anyone’s life anymore. We good with that? Okay.
She cried when I left. Given what a horrible person they both decided I am, I have no idea why.
He at least had the decency to not pretend to be sappy for once. Thank fuck.
Dad needs me anyway, it transpires. Not only is he in stage four kidney failure, I find out after I get here that he has a partial artery blockage and I’m pretty sure it’s the same artery that ruptured and killed John Ritter. Dad will be 70 in late November. He needs more than occasional rides and visits, he actually needs a younger body around here shifting heavy shit for him. It’s very different doing for someone who needs it as opposed to slogging around for an able-bodied 50something petulant child who thinks women are vending machines, pop in money or a dick and you get everything you want. I have at least one way to earn for now (Matt is sending money once a month until December of next year, no idea why… he gave reasons, they don’t make sense, as usual) and have time to acquire the one I have been aiming for, badly, for more than 1.5 years now. I’ll manage.
Hope to have internet service and not just this half-assed phone data connection soon. We’ll see.
*I shit you not, Crys has the whole blonde hair and glasses thing going on just like the Girl Genius character in some obscure geek comic-book series Matt loves.
So did Yvette.
So did Vivien.
I think I’ve figured out the real reason I keep falling short.
20/20 vision (even with needing readers).
Oh well! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯