August Rush…

I’m sitting here, with Jess and John…watching August Rush.

I don’t often watch movies like this. I try and make it a habit not to cry for sport.

Watching this little boy, desperate for his parents. Knowing how it feels to pine. I hate watching these things. 

When I was little, the only thing I ever really, really wanted was my parents. My mother and my father. I wanted them together. I didn’t understand that they never really loved each other like that. I didn’t understand any of it.

Watching this, seeing this kid, takes me to that place. That sad place…

Neither of them understand…as both of their birth parents are still married.

Neither of them “get it”.

Ever since my reading on Wednesday…I’ve missed my dad in a deeper way than usual. As I was sitting here, I smelled something. Turned my head, and saw that Tom’s jacket was right next to my head.

He is so…like my Dad, and so not. At the same times. I can’t bear to try and explain it. He is so…fun, deep, kind, rugged, peaceful, spiritual, confused. He is a lot of things. Yet, I keep him at a distance. Part of me is desperately afraid of letting him in, and getting left. Again.

I don’t expect anyone out there in cyberspace to understand this…it isn’t really making sense. I guess that is part of it…I can’t make it make sense. I want it to, desperately. I want to understand why it hurts. Sometimes, I figure that if I can understand why, I can make it stop. That was the point of all of the years of therapy, right? To understand why, in hopes of changing. Changing my reaction, changing my feelings, channelling something to a better place.

Years of therapy, a few years of drugs. I’ve changed a lot. I’ve self-medicated, self-injured, talked, helped, and here I sit. Still upset. Still in pain. Yes, I’ve learned a lot. I’ve learned more than I could have predicted. But nothing that takes away the pain. It just shifts how I deal with it.

I’m not sure the pain will ever even lessen. I deal with it differently…yes. I guess if that was the only goal…than we succeeded.

I can’t rid myself of the pain. I don’t wallow in it anymore, but it’s always there. Ebbing and flowing. Pulsing under my skin. It’s counterbalanced by the bliss of my life. The love of Deylan. Having finally gotten a wonderful mother. Finding my actual soul mate…despite our inability to sometimes be functional. Laying on the floor with my dog. Those moments…are a bliss I can’t put in to words.

And then there are the times when I realize that when we have another baby (Lucas…when he’s ready, he’ll come), that my Dad won’t be sitting there next to me. The pain surges a little bit. Times when Denise and I talk…about him. It almost bleeds through sometimes. Like a hemophiliac…an emotional hemophiliac.

*sigh*

When it happens, when I have days like this…I feel awful. I feel like I’ve now thrown myself some kind of pity party.