Forgiving my father

A little over a year ago, I was told by my half-sister that my father was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. Even though he had abused me and made my life so difficult, I wasn’t happy to hear the news. I really wasn’t sure what to do with the information. Should I call him and try to make amends before he passed? Should I do nothing? What should I do? I mulled it over for a couple of months and still couldn’t come up with anything.

I called my dear, and very wise friend Gabriel and talked with him about it. He knew that even though I said I forgave my father, I was really nowhere near forgiving him. Gabe said that when Jesus was nailed to the cross, he had the opportunity to have God bring His wrath on those who had put him there. Instead, Jesus said, “forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Gabe went on to say that my father couldn’t have known what he was doing, or he would have never done it. He said, “Kelly, your father wasn’t in his right mind. No father in their right mind would do that to his child.”

Later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, I kept thinking about what Gabriel said. I knew he was right, but again, I just didn’t know what to do with the information. As I layed my head on my pillow, I suddenly started thinking and repeating these words in my head, “God, forgive my father because he didn’t know what he was doing.” Over and over I repeated the words until I fell asleep.

The next morning, I felt a new and wonderful sort of calm come over me. From that day on, I didn’t feel anymore anger towards my father. God listened to me and forgave him. He also helped to remove the anger and resentment from me that I had been carrying around so long. I honestly felt like a new woman.

Three months later, my father died. When I found out, I was at peace with it. I didn’t have any unresolved problems with him, so I was able to just let it go. I don’t know if my father asked for forgiveness before he died, but that’s between him and God. I know that what I did is what saved me and that’s all that matters. It was between me and God.

Forgiveness isn’t easy, believe me. I carried around so much anger for so long, but I’m so happy that I was finally able to move on. What’s funny is that I didn’t forgive my father on my own, I asked God to forgive him. I will never forget what he did to me, but at least now I’m able to heal myself knowing that I don’t have to carry the burden of anger with me everyday.


Relationship hell

I wrote this about five years ago while I was transitioning from being completely dysfunctional to someone better able to see the damage I was doing to myself. Enjoy

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You know things are going badly when… every relationship you end up in is with someone who’s either an alcoholic, a drug addict, or a womanizer. And that does seem to describe every long-term relationship I’ve ever been in.

The Devil (aka my first husband) / Alcoholic. Womanizer. Hitter:  I met him about a week after I broke up with my high school boyfriend. D blew in on a motorcycle, looking all cool n’ shit, talking sweet, and providing me with his undivided attention. When he said he’d pick me up at 7:00 p.m., he was there on time and usually carrying flowers or some such girly thing. I fell in love quickly and was barely 17 years old when we married. A week after the wedding is when the hitting started, along with his self-esteem-shattering name calling. There I was, all 5’7″ 130 lbs of me being called fat, ugly and stupid then smacked in the face just because he felt like it. D was an alcoholic and a womanizer. The marriage ended a year later. That was the day I beat the fuck out of him, you know, the day I wasn’t going to take his shit anymore. I guess once he realized I could kick his ass my usefulness wore off.

Mr. Machismo / Alcoholic. Womanizer:  I met M about six months after I divorced the Devil. He was 12 years older than me, 6′ tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, and one hella Swedish fucking hottie! M taught me a lot about sex. I’m not really sure what else we had in common, but we both certainly liked experimenting sexually. He liked it so much that he “shared the wealth” with many other women. Ain’t that sweet? We were together about a year and a half, then just sort of quit seeing each other. No real drama, no goodbyes, just “hm… I haven’t seen M in a while… wonder what he’s up to.”

The Biker / Alcoholic:  I met B one night while playing pool in my local bar. We were on our second or third game when I couldn’t quite reach the shot (plus I wanted to really get his attention) so I climbed on the pool table and made my shot while ass-up on all fours. B was really a sweet guy who carried around a rough exterior. The only problem in our relationship was his drinking. He didn’t get violent or anything, he held a good job, and was very kind to me, but he was always drunk. In fact, he’s the one who helped me discover my love of tequila. Our relationship ended early one morning after B left for work. His roommate decided to come into our room and rape me. Obviously, things just weren’t the same after that.

The Daddy (aka my second husband) / Alcoholic. Hitter: I met D while hanging out with a local metal band. He was a friend of the bass guitarist and I was fucking the drummer. Jump forward a year and a half and there we are at a barn party, talking and laughing when and I asked him out. We dated seven months before we got hitched. We were married for 11 years and had two kids. The first four years were great. After our first daughter was born, everything went to hell and quick. D decided it was okay to get drunk and punch or choke me, he often referred to his mom as a whore, and generally had no respect for women. I blame myself for a lot of this fiasco because the warning signs were there. I just refused to see them. I’m not sorry, but only because of my two wonderful kids, but it was pure hell. The hitting stopped on my 30th birthday when he tried to choke me, I threw the asshole into a head-lock and beat the fuck out of him. Again, another victim of my pent-up rage.

The Golf Pro / Alcoholic. Womanizer:  I met M one night, made out with him in his truck, fucked his brains out for two weeks, then he dumped me. I was heart-broken. A week later, he called and said he couldn’t live without me. So there began our one and a half year freak/fuck-fest. M was 14 years older than me and really knew what he was doing in bed. With him, it was the first time in years that I actually felt like a woman. I wasn’t someone’s wife or mother, I was a desirable woman and he let me know it. Unfortunately, he was fucking everything in town, as I found out later. It got so bad that a woman’s husband poisoned M’s dog because of M’s affair with her.

The Red Neck / Alcoholic. Womanizer: I met J one night, purposely gave him the wrong address and talked to him on the phone while he drove around looking for my house. I told him about the red teddy I was wearing, how my legs were spread and my pussy was ready for some dick. I thought it was funny. He didn’t. Six months later I ran into him again, gave him the right address this time, and that started our year and a half long relationship. With J, it felt as if I were raising another child. I know that his energy and outlook on life is part of what appealed to me, but there are times when you have to be serious and take responsibility for your life. He just didn’t want any part of that. J had a very rough upbrining and dealt with the scars of that by drinking heavily. Our relationship was pretty stormy and ended when he started fucking his cousin. Yep, his cousin.

The African Prince / Alcoholic. Womanizer: I met G while he was visiting my neighbor. We didn’t get together until six months later and I fell madly and deeply in love. I know he “cared” for me and he even said “I love you” once, but I also know that he’s not capable of being with just one woman. He’s an alcoholic, smoke a great deal of weed, and sleeps with quite a few women (one in each port?). That ended when I admitted my sexual addiction to him. I guess what’s good for the goose really isn’t good for the gander.

The Southern Gentleman / Alcoholic. Womanizer. Drug Addict. Ex Con. T and I met after he sent me a drink at a local bar. I was immeidately smitten and went home with him that night. We talked about our past, our addictions, everything. Things were good until I realized his “southern charm” was just a mask hiding every other fucked up thing that was wrong with him, but he didn’t want to deal with. We dated four years, but he eventually started using drugs again, then left town on a Greyhound on his way to meet his girlfriend in Denver. I never looked back.

From what I can garner, I seem to be attracted to any man who is an alcoholic and has issues with intimacy and commitment. As I’ve said before, “my picker is broke.” I wonder what it is about the alcoholic that seems to draw me to them? Is it their own wounded spirit and my co-dependency? Was I a raging alcoholic in a past life and now I’m paying for my sins? All I know is that I can’t go anywhere near an AA meeting or all hell will let loose.