I haven’t really cried in quite awhile, I’m talking about crying to the point where I can’t breathe. Today, my dad left my home with all of his things. This a recurrent event that usually starts over something very small, but somehow leaves a big impact on everyone in my family. This has happened so many times that I have lost count, but it never gets easier. My dad is a drug addict. Drug addiction is a chronic, often relapsing brain disease that causes compulsive drug seeking and use, despite harmful consequences to the drug addict and those around them. The stigma around addiction is so ugly, and it really bothers me because drug addicts are people that need help. No one chooses to be a drug addict, and becoming a drug addict is not something that anyone wishes to have. It’s almost always triggered by an emotional event or events that fuels the need to cover your pain with it. My dad had a very traumatic childhood that affected him in ways that he himself doesn’t even understand. There’s people in his family that continue to allow him to self destruct. My mom and the rest of us here at home, have not been those people. My mom has done nothing but support and help my dad have everything that he has today. My mom has done nothing but be the best mother, friend, wife, and support for this entire family. She is almost always blamed for the problems in their marriage, and in his life. The only person that can help you anymore, is you. You are the only person in control of helping yourself. Asking for help isn’t something bad. Asking for help when you need it, is the most brave thing you can do. I watch people lose their family and friends to addiction, and that person can’t be me. I remember when I was in summer camp, there was a Dad lunch and I sat on the bench by myself because my dad wasn’t there. I wanted you there, and you weren’t. I don’t hate my dad. I used to say I did when he didn’t understand little 10 year old me trying to express and find myself. Even then, all I wanted was to be loved by my dad. Our relationship was never the best, but once I accepted who I was…so did he. My dad is a beautiful person. He is hurt, but he is so amazing in so many ways. My dad used to be my coach on my soccer team, and helped me practice even when I would ignore his advice. My dad is the best at grilling carne even when I say it’s too seasoned. My dad is the best Gaga hater, even when its just to bug me. My dad is the best person to watch stupid scary movies with. My dad is the best dad and I don’t know if you will read this, or even care to read this. If you do read this, I love you.
Dad, just breathe. Just realize that you’re worth something, and it’s time.