That's What He Would Want

Since my Dad died, I've had this strong aversion to the very mention or thought of "Your Dad wouldn't want that."  It was a cut, a striking reminder that he wasn't here.  And how would you know what he would or wouldn't want?  So somewhere, at some point, I had decided that I guess I didn't really want to know what he wanted. That idea was a battle that I didn't think I could fight for the rest of my life, and I needed an excuse to rid myself of as much guilt as possible.  He was gone and so it didn't matter anymore what he would want, he wasn't going to get to see it.   But deep down, at some subconscious level, my decisions were surely driven by the notion of "that's what Dad would want."  My head was swarming with it, trying to make the right decision and leave things the way he would be content with. Even proud of. There was an inevitable motivation to "do the right thing", whatever that was he would have done. 

A few years later, that feeling has shifted. It's been met with the realization that if given the chance, I would absolutely see my Dad again - meet up with him, sit or walk with him, talk to him, tell him everything. What would he say? There's a desire to know that he would be okay with not only what I'm doing but how I'm doing.  I don't think I've stopped living. In fact, there are a lot of ways I'm living even moreso, savoring and seizing things. I'm not living less, but I'm stuck. I think about the past all the time, all the could haves, should haves, would haves.....or shouldn't haves. It's a movie reel in my head that won't turn off, but I keep pressing play. Rewind, play. It's deep and disruptive, and it hurts. 

I know that's part of trauma; PTSD doesn't just go away or pass as the time does. It has a grip on me, and I am well aware of how much I'm letting it control me. After therapy and time, it's still there eating away at me. That's on me. There's a facet of all of it that I haven't let go of, not completely. The memories might always be there, even the hurt when those memories come up, but I haven't dealt with it in a way that allows me to be free. I still have this want for things to "work out" or "be resolved", a sense of justice to be done. It's like I'm stuck because I'm just waiting. There isn't even anything to be waiting for...I am doing and could be doing even more. Nothing I've lost is coming back; nothing is going to be the way it used to be. I already had the shocking realization that I can't fix the things I wanted to, and so now I need to stop wanting to. 

It's been three and a half years since my Dad died, over four years since Jeremy stole everything, two and half years since Alex and Brittni stabbed me in the back. These things happened, there isn't any undoing of such things. It's now all about how I'm letting them be bigger than me. That's what my Dad would have a problem with. That's what I need to severe myself from, in the most simplest of ways:  stop expecting justice or retribution. Stop keeping tabs on people who tried to destroy me.