Old Baggage

Yesterday felt like the longest day for some reason. I kept myself so busy, thinking that would help, but as busy as I was, I still felt boredom creeping in anytime I was still. I've had a ton of energy, taking four yoga classes in the past two days, keeping my house clean and laundry hampers empty. I have barely slept, but still feel wired. I miss my husband, and though he will kill me for saying this, mostly all he does when he is home is lay on the couch and watch golf, so it isn't like he entertains me all day or anything:) It is just his presence that I miss, the fact that I feel lonely, and although I know he will only be gone for a few days, I still feel the strangely familiar ache of being left. Why is it that the past, and the actions of someone else have the power even to this day to cause me pain?
My parents divorced when I was eight years old, and my brother was four. My dad for the most part dropped out of our lives with only the occasional weekend visit. There were many times that he would promise to come and pick us up, and then not show or even call. It hurt, but eventually I became immune to the sadness and loss, or at least I convinced myself that I had. It made it hard to trust or believe any of his promises. Mostly it was his promise to change. He was much too interested in partying, and children didn't fit very well into his lifestyle. In recent years, he has told me how much he has changed, and continues to try to communicate with me, but I find it difficut to let him into my life. He has lost my trust, and I do feel guilty, but I'm so afraid of being let down again. I'm always trying to talk myself out of the fact it was painful. I tell myself that it doesn't matter. I have an amazing step father, so the fact that my real father was absent made me feel as if I should't complain or let it affect me. The truth is that it left scars, and I'm afraid that people will go away, just like he did. My poor husband takes the brunt of my abandonement issues, so his absence leaves me feeling vulnerable. In many ways, I'm handling everything in a much healthier manner than I have in previous years. One year I got very drunk while he was gone, calling my therapist, and crying hysterically into the phone. She made me call a friend to come stay with me, and by the time she arrived at my house, I was already passed out on the floor. That is definitely not one of my proudest moments! This time, I'm not getting drunk or starving away the feelings. I'm actually acknowledging them and giving myself permission to feel. I can see how far I've come, and that does make me feel proud of myself.
Tomorrow is Father's Day, and I'm not going to mourn, but celebrate how wonderful my stepdad is, and how very blessed I am to have his love.