Changes. Again.

I haven’t written in a really long time.

The truth is, life has been hard. Like… Soul-rendingly hard. So, so many things have happened that it’s hard to know what to share or where to begin.

The facts are pretty simple. Dad asked us to move in with him in Idaho, so we did. Packed the kids and the house and half of dad’s house and combined our families. The plan from the beginning was to give it a shot for two years and then we’d get our own place. Things were really good for a long time, but when they went sour, the situation got pretty tense. We bought a house about twenty five miles away (North Idaho is waaaaaay outside our price range) and moved in August, almost two years to the date. It took a while after we moved out before I could reflect and honestly evaluate how unhealthy things had become. My kids have shared a lot of things that’s shaped my perspective as well.

I’ve seen my dad a few times since we moved – we met for breakfast once, he dropped off a birthday gift for Bean and I stopped by his house once to visit. It was during that visit, sometime in October, Dad’s girlfriend told me he’d proposed on her birthday a few weeks prior. This was significant to me because my father had told me he hadn’t proposed. We’d even continued to discuss his plans to do so on several occasions by text AFTER they were already engaged. He’d lied to me. My dad, the guy I thought was my person, the guy I’d always said was the most honest man I knew had lied and, in doing so, intentionally kept me out of a massive event in his life. I was utterly devastated. I confronted, I lost my cool, I cried and then I left.

So that was maybe two months ago. I tried once by phone to help him understand my feelings. We’ve had a couple conversations/fights via text message. His positions are fairly entrenched – he continues to tell me he did nothing wrong and that this entire scenario is drama manufactured by me. He can’t see that either he is lying or his fiancé is. And he would rather sacrifice a relationship with me than admit the truth. I’m not crazy. I did not make this up. Thank god for text messages because I can read it for myself to combat this narcissistic gaslighting. I have bared my soul to him multiple times in an attempt to heal this rift. He’s unwilling to have a functioning, mature relationship where people take responsibility for their mistakes. And he’s just not interested in my feelings, which is probably what hurts the most.

When I was eight or nine, my mom told me to walk from my after-school club to the grocery store where my dad worked so he could bring me home. My directional sense was even worse then than it is now (which is no mean feat, believe me) and I was soon hopelessly lost. I have this ultra-vivid memory of walking along the road crying and my dad roaring up the road after me in his truck. He skidded to a stop in the gravel and ran for me with arms outstretched. He saved me. That’s who I have always believed my dad to be – the guy who’d slay dragons for me as long as I was telling the truth. The guy who loved me enough to come find me when I was lost. The guy who told me I was his hero and asked me to be his person. The guy I’d move my family across three states for.

On Thursday, I was at work and Melissa dropped by to bring me a charging pack for my phone. I work at a DIY studio in Idaho and the building is in a shopping center. I was outside talking to Melissa when my dad and his fiancé came out of another store. I froze. They looked at me, then turned around and walked away. Never looked back. Got in his truck and left.

The contrast between those two stories only serves as evidence of the change in my dad. He’s no longer the man I knew. He is estranged from both of his children and seems content to be so. He certainly makes no effort to change it. I haven’t heard a word from him in three weeks. He unfriended me on social media and he ignored both Melissa’s and his grandsons’ birthdays. We didn’t see each other for Thanksgiving and, unless something changes dramatically, I hold no hope for Christmas together. To say I am heartbroken is the grandest of understatements. In spite of everything, I still miss him. I wish he missed me.

My site hasn’t had a visitor in over a year, so I’m probably shouting into the ether here. I’m ok with that. I’m seeing a therapist about this and working hard on seeing myself as worth fighting for. Even if the only person fighting for me is me.