Cranky and hatin’ it

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For some reason, my father has been on my mind a great deal lately, and that’s probably contributing to my feelings of general unrest. I try not to think about my father very often; he’s just not a part of my life, nor has he been since 2004, when he cut me out of his life (well, except for the drunken birthday phone call I got from him in 2009). It’s been over eight years, with only the one 30 minute call where he wanted to put it all behind us.

I’m still not ready to reach out to him. I’m just not. If he wants to repair the situation, he’s more than welcome to reach out. I’m not going to force anything, not when I’m this angry.

Fuck, I’m nearly 40 years old, and I’m still trying to justify myself to this man who hasn’t been in my life for nearly a fifth of it, by his choice. I don’t think he understands that a relationship of any kind is a two-way street and that sometimes, if you want it to work, you have to actually work at it. I’m sure that he’s under the impression that this is a turn-based thing, and that since he made the last move, it’s now my turn. I’m not ready. I’m just… not. And I know that it wears on my grandmother, too, when I talk to her, because I’ll talk to anyone else in the house except for my father or stepmonster (who is an entirely different subject. She’s never liked me, I’ve never liked her, and I couldn’t give two juicy shits if I ever saw her again, religious and societal hypocrite that she is).

I dunno. I’ll get through this. It’s a matter of time. I just need to put them out of my mind. I need to figure out a way to do that. I have far better things that need my attention than this bullshit.

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