goddam addiction

Wow.

So, you know how I'm bubble girl?

Well, I really gave myself a run for my money last night.

I have quite the ritual to get ready for bed, and last night, I didn't do one of them.

I woke up in my clothes from yesterday, sans skirt, my makeup from yesterday, skanky teeth that hadn't been brushed, nor did I have my elastics in that pull all my teeth together for my bite.  I just ate my dinner of peanut butter on wheat free toast and went straight to bed.

Disaster.

All I could think about was this song that I once learned, when I was short listed for Hole in '99.

Too bad for Courtney, she never did get that band back together for me to be hired for.  I hope she's well.

Fuck addiction sucks.

Anyway.

Yes.  I woke up in my makeup, my tights from my skirt the day before, my tights top and bra, and breath from my mess of a mouth that could buckle a buffalo.

It was almost as if I was a teenager again.

Thing is, I learned at a very young age that I'm bubble girl.  If I sleep in my makeup, I wind up with pink eye.

Nasty.

This means that I have to give my eyes a break from makeup today, or I'll have to throw the whole lot out for fear of reinfecting, and that's just damn expensive.

But I'm going out for dim sum with my 'rough around the edges friends'!!!

How can I be high femme without the full garb?!?!?!?

Good god it's hard to be me.

... end sarcasm here ...

I should talk to 'you', my imaginary friend, about a revelation I had yesterday.

I went to the synagogue again yesterday, and there is always a moment for anyone who wishes healing for someone to come up and be amongst the beautiful energy of like minded souls, sending their healing wishes to their loved ones.

I sat in my usual back row with my Gratitude Buddy, and watched everyone go up.

I didn't have a choice when the thoughts came into my mind.  I was gifted with the wish for healing for my father.

Could it be that my father, having felt so much guilt and pain for putting his son up for adoption, have been the reason he had gone down the path of destruction?  Was it because of that guilt?

I thought about the possible remorse he felt of sending his son away at the young age of 15.  How does a teenager deal with that emotion?  Well, they start drinking and take a walk down the slippery slope of drug addiction.

My father is just another broken human being who needs to heal.  However, I can't help him do that.  He has to do it on his own, and he doesn't seem to have the capacity to do so, being the manchild that has never learned what responsibility actually means.

I have to let him go.

Still, the pain of knowing he's in emotional agony dogs me every day.  Every day I feel my very own guilt for learning to let him go.

He can't be a dad to me.  He doesn't have that capability.

He can't even be a friend.  The only time he's ever called in the past 4 years was once to ask for help because his partner needs him to take care of her.

Having never supported my mother while my baby sister and I grew up, all I knew of him was he was a dead beat dad. 

So how, and why, do I feel such guilt for doing my best for myself as I work to let him go?

i am willing to release all guilt