My Dad

I finally talked with my dad today. I explained to him the problems I'm having with current therapy assignments--specifically the fragmentation of my person that I've created. We talked about the different feelings each fragment is experiencing in reference to parents, abuse, and God/Christ. It was a difficult thing to do, but had some rather marvelous results.

Number 1: My dad loves me. He always has. He said he hasn't always been the greatest parent, but he hopes I'll forgive him someday. Regardless, he loves me--every part of me--even the fragments I've created. He loves the child that read when she was three, learned her times tables at four, and beat him at chess at age five. He loves the desperately sad, angry eleven-year-old who wonders why he didn't save her. He loves the confused teen who cut and starved herself to relieve pain beyond anything she could imagine. He loves me--the me I have built as an adult.

Number 2: My dad believes the wisest course of action at this point is to see if Therapist will continue to let me work with him. The distance seems a little extreme, but my dad thinks it will be worth it. So--contingent on Therapist's caseload and willingness--I may get my wish to see the love of my life once again (I have so many of those!!).

Number 3: My dad doesn't think I'm crazy.

This is my 100th post. It feels monumental to me in so many ways.