Client Journal: Letter to Dad

Post Date November 18, 2011
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Dear Dad,

It’s me, Evelyn. Can you see my face? I can barely see yours. It hurts too much. To see your crinkly crow’s feet. Crooked front tooth. Pinky twitching on the steering wheel when you’re upset. That’s what I remember. I am frozen in those moments. I am frozen inside, Dad.

I have a rage inside of me that could sear mountain ranges, slice them in half. So I’ve build glaciers on top of it, frozen frosted blue lips. I have grown up now, Dad. Grown up too hard, and too soft. And not at all.

I have not let a single man close to my heart. No fucking way. I am still reeling from your betrayal, from your choices. And mine. But you’ve been betraying me since as far back as I can remember. All those nights you worked late. You worked on numbing your soul with Johnny Walker. You couldn’t bear to watch Mom bruise our tender flesh. The day you told me, the first glacier began to grow. I couldn’t bear my hate. That’s when I tried my first drugs, Dad. I wanted to feel nothing, just like you. I did whatever I could get my hands on. Smoked it, snorted it, ate it, swallowed it. I would have fucked too, if I had the balls.

My first sexual experience? So ignorant. So unaware. The only thing I knew about men then was that they lied. They lied, they couldn’t protect me, they ran away when things got hard. He fingered me while I was sleeping. I was too high to feel anything. He died anyway, Dad.

I could never grab onto you. I could never know you, understand you. Your body was there but you were already living on some alien planet. I’ve grown up to believe that no man will ever have my back. That he won’t want to hold my hand through my pain. That I will forever be too much. That I’ll have to practically kill and main to make myself heard, to be important. That he’ll disappear into the night. That long, philosophical conversations will be the only way to connect, unless I just give him my body. That he doesn’t feel anything, doesn’t want to feel anything, that I will always make him feel what he doesn’t want to.

Just like you, Dad. Just like you. Just like you.

Client Journal: My Parent’s Daughter

Post Date November 04, 2011
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I see all of my patterning in them. I am definitely my parents’ daughter. I disappear from people I care about like my father when I feel overwhelmed by something. I don’t think I pick fights like he does, but I do a lot of mental yelling at people over small/stupid things that usually end up not being the real reason for why I feel so angry.



I shutdown and just go mute like my mother, and I try to blame and rationalize my behavior and my feelings before taking ownership. When someone asks me a question that brings up a lot of emotions for me, I change the subject and/or give vague or short answers.



I am finally accepting that I act like they do. I was too much in my ‘fuck you’ to be honest with myself and own up to my behavior. I am cold like my mom and dad and I have my own addiction with baby powder that I used to eat when I really wanted to escape myself and escape from feeling and even from being responsible (I still haven’t eaten any but I definitely still have the cravings). For example, a couple years ago when I was fired from my job, there was a solid 3 weeks where instead of look for another job or talk to anyone, all I did was eat baby powder and sleep.



When my mom was venting, I felt angry and frustrated. Not necessarily angry at what she was saying, but because when I was trying to connect with her and find out more about the situation she is going through and how it affects her, she kept shutting me out! But I realize I can’t judge her for it, because I do the same damn thing. It was just eye opening really start being aware of my behavior and have it mirrored back to me.

Client Journal: Meditation

Post Date November 19, 2010
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Category Client Journal, Poetry

Fire

Coiling in the base like rattlesnakes
I feel them writhe lashing tails
Against the walls of my stomach
Battle cry sounding off
Anger that which was hidden for so long
Finally taking center
Lifting through veils I see

I am mad as hell and I hate my father
Because he doesn’t give a shit about me

Client Journal: Absent Father

Post Date May 17, 2010
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I appreciate you going over our time to get me to the point where I can start thinking about who I am in relationships. I have been thinking about that for the past couple of days. I think in a lot of my relationships, I turn into my absent father. I do not do it as much now, but what would happen in the past, is that I would intensely (like almost everyday for about 4 or 5 hours) hang out with a friend for a few weeks at a time and then I would just disappear. Without calling, texting or anything. I would rationalize that “they should know I’m busy and have other stuff to do.” I would act like that because after spending so much time with someone, I would realize that I wasn’t taking care of myself. I wasn’t expressing myself, I wasn’t talking about my problems, I would just listen to theirs. I wasn’t working on myself as an artist and I wasn’t doing the hobbies that I like to do just for me that make me feel good. This would cause me to feel overwhelmed and anxious, which would turn into to me judging and criticizing myself (“No wonder your career isn’t where you want it to be, you spend all your free time bullshitting around…”) which would then have me shut down and not talk to anyone so I could “work” on myself. Which would basically mean me not doing anything except sleep.

It wasn’t until a few months ago when I was confronted by L about it that I realized this pattern is extremely hurtful to people. After speaking to you on Tuesday, I realize that this is similar to what my dad would do, and still does. When I go back home I will maybe have one day, or a half day in which I will see my dad. He’ll make me dinner or eat dinner with me, or if I am hanging out with my niece he will watch a movie with us and just listen to our conversations without really saying anything. Then, after that one day or half day of spending time with him, he’ll disappear and the next time I most likely will see him is when he is dropping me off at the bus station. It is hurtful to me to just have him be so disconnected with me. You and I had a conversation that made me realize that he is like that with everyone, so I don’t take it personally now, but it still hurts. Now I realize that I do in fact need a lot of alone time, to actually work on the things I need to work on, like with dance, music and writing. But I am more forthcoming with my friends about that. I say things like, “I am not sure of the next time I will be able to spend time with you, but lets at least make a phone date.” Sometimes I slip. Sometimes I do disappear. But I try to catch myself after a couple days and hold myself accountable to whomever it is that I disappear on, I talk to them and tell them why I flaked out on them. As I am writing this, I realize that when I do disappear on people, most of the time, it isn’t about them, it’s about me collapsing and falling into my victim when I am not properly taking care of myself.