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Part II


LexieDad_001

Drowning, Dying, Hopelessness; blackened pit of night

      Living with the Specter; in a world devoid of light

The torture and the torment; wrapped around the soul

     Loneliness, secluded, neglected; lost, cannot control

 

Haven’t seen her daughter; empty the heart and mind

     Of killing points and trigger thoughts, that always rob and blind

Helpless in the hopelessness, from losing her so long

     Forgotten, hated, ostracized; cannot outlive the wrong

 

Concertina, razor wire, wrapped around the brain

     It slices, tighter, endlessly; promulgated by the pain

Suffocating heartbeat, breathe is fading out

     I wish that I could see her, before the final round

 

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Posted by on 02/18/2018 in Dads, Depression

 

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Me and My Pharma Cocktail Took a Little Trip


I took a trip I haven’t taken in a while.

It was three hours, from Virginia to North Carolina.

To see my dad.

It meant the world to him and he was grateful and happy.

Regardless of the short distance between us, we haven’t spent much time visiting with each other. The last time I saw him was two years ago in the hospital after my suicide attempt.

I think this weekend I learned what it means, not to be a dad.

But to be a son.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 11/13/2016 in Dads

 

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Father’s Day Funny


Coffee mug showing Darth Vader holding his hand out with quote  saying, "I am your father."

Luuuuuuuuuuuuuke.

 
1 Comment

Posted by on 06/21/2015 in Dads, Humor

 

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I’m Getting Her PTSD. Pt. 4 [POEM]


How do you relate to the people in your life with PTSD?

This post is part of a series of poems dedicated to my girlfriend. She has PTSD and severe anxiety and you will understand her story with each post. Each time I learn something about the mental conditions she lives with, I add a “part” to the series. Please read the previous verses. Each can be found at these links – Part1, Part 2 and Part 3 of her story and the lessons she’s taught me.

Photo of abandoned girl with her legs crossed and her head in her lap.

Remembering all those children of fathers whom they have never had the chance of knowing. I am praying for the emptiness in your soul to be filled with peace.

Fatherless Day-

She sat next to me, as the fathers all stood,

And her soul crashed onto the rocks.

Because she’s never known hers, in all of her years,

Through all of life’s punches she blocks.

My soul is torn, as I stand up,

Next to my beautiful daughter of ten.

Through the pain and the hurt, the tears and the loss,

I’d throw down, I’d do it again.

I feel her pain, and it humbles my soul,

The feeling is so hard to take.

To be humble and proud, as I stand in the crowd,

When she’s sitting there in so much pain.

She doesn’t speak a word, but she rubs my side,

She is so strong and helps me along.

She tells me to keep fighting, to be there for her,

The daughter who I sometimes feel I’ve lost.

Her heart aches and yearns, for a father she’d know,

A man whom she could call dad.

And I want to take it, make it all go away

The abandonment and the sad.

So I’ll honor her, and her tenderly tough soul,

And the selflessness she always gives.

And hold her hand, through this painful day,

And the heartache through which she has to live.

She’s grown on me, and taught me her life,

My mouth hangs open in awe.

For I’m getting her condition, her PTSD

I’m beginning to understand it all.

Thank you for reading the fourth installment of this poem. Please pass it onto those who are missing their fathers today.

 

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Why Doesn’t My Daughter Love Me?


What Did I Do That Was So Horribly Wrong?

silhouette of dad and daughter holding hands on the beach That’s what it feels like. It feels like she doesn’t love me.

“Of course she loves you, you’re her dad” they almost jeer from the side like some frenzied Colosseum.

I see her every two weeks from Friday through Monday morning when I drop her off at school 50 minutes away.

I call. I text.

And no answer. This is my trigger.

I’ve felt like a horrible dad since last September. Probably even before that. You all know what happened last September when this trigger hit the hardest it’s ever hit. 

It’s one of the hardest demons for me to face as it lifts its cowl and I see its razor incisors dripping to gnash.

I Abuse Alcohol.

I drink.

I’ve been drinking regularly.

I’ve become really good at that.

I escape.

The buzz kind of numbs the pain. Sometimes it backfires. Like when you zip tie your neck to your bedroom closet’s doorknob and fist a bottle of sleeping pills down your face.

I Get So Angry

I get angry because I subscribe to blogs where women write about their dads. Some good, some bad. They miss them or they remember how good they are to them. The good ones call and stay in touch with their girls…their kids. Even the bad ones; their daughters still yearn for a relationship with them. It’s their biggest dream.

You know how painful it is when you call or text and YOU KNOW there will not be any response?

Do you know what kind of strength that takes?

How deep the wound of worthlessness continues to open?

How much the nine inch nail is driven?

It’s one of the worst pains in the world. I wish it on no one.

I’ve Read Books.

Maybe I Should Practice What They Preach. Maybe I shouldn’t have read them at all.

Divorced dads books on a shelf

What I Hang On To.

A fellow blogger framed it perfectly for me. I can’t quote it or remember who it was but the gist of it was, “even though my mom and dad were divorced, my dad delivered flowers to me every Valentine’s day for the past [#] years. No matter how far away he was. No matter how busy he was, the flowers showed up with a note EVERY single year. Because of that I know he never forgot about me.”

‘Nuff said.

Do any hurting sons/daughters have advice for me? Thank you for taking your time to read this.

 

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