Week 2: Father's Day

Hey Everyone!

I know I'm making this week's post, pretty much, at the wire, but I've been so tired the last couple of days, that now, I'm just relaxing and taking it easy. This week was pretty much a hectic week, with work and all, and Friday was a crazy, yet fun day, thanks to those I shared it with. I'm running on an hour and a half's worth of sleep and an energy drink I had, back at around 5 PM, E.D.T. So, it's safe to say that after I'm done with this update, I'm gonna eat and call it a game(Word of advice: Wendy's Apple Pecan Chicken Salad is amazing). 

Thank you to those who commented on my first post, whether on here or on Facebook. I really appreciate the positive thoughts and comments. Your words were a part of helping me get through the week. I will admit, though, for a good part of the week, I was feeling rather down. It started to ease, as the week progressed, but it still lingers in my mind. I may talk about it more, once I know more about it, but right now, it's something that I need to keep to myself. Just for now.

If anyone didn't know, or forgot, tomorrow is Father's Day. First, I wanna wish all the fathers, grandfathers, uncles, and every male who steps up to the challenge to help raise the young of our world, even if they aren't theirs. This day, belongs to you, as well. 

To be honest, this was a day that didn't, and really doesn't, mean that much to me. I didn't have a father growing up. I still don't. Growing up, there were in certain men in my life, who were around, but from my point of view, didn't try to be a father to me. There was my brother's father, and, if any of my brothers/half-brothers are reading this, I'm sorry, but this is how I feel things were, in my eyes, he really didn't try to be a father to me. It, sometimes, seemed like he resented my presence. I remember him paying more attention to his other sons, and as little as possible to me, unless Mom forced him to. Sure, we all lived under the same roofs, but I don't really feel he was much of a parent to me. I, always, felt lonely in that house. 

After him, the next most significant male, in my life was another man named Paul. This was a man that I would grow to despise, with every fiber of my being. When we were living in the same building, he seduced Mom away from us, and turned her down the road, that would eventually lead into us losing her. When we moved back into the Brownsville section of Brooklyn, he followed us. He was even less of a parent to me, and once again, favored my brother more. Despite having no blood relation to us, he was allowed to discipline us and, even hit us, for no reason some of the time. It was around him, that I first learned about swearing.We ended up telling our uncles about him, and when they came to do something about it, my mother would say that we were lying, and protected him. I loved my mother, but I felt really betrayed when she did that. That really did hurt me so much. When our mother got really sick, we never saw him again, despite all of the time she put in with him, putting him up in our house, when she was Knocking on Heaven's Door, he abandoned her. We've never heard or seen him since. I'm glad for it. I don't know what I would do, if I ever saw him again.

After our mother passed, my brother and I were separated. He went to his father, and I went to my grandmother. The only adult males in my life then, were my uncles. And to be honest, as much as I love them, I really didn't feel much from them. They, either, had their own families or their own things going on in their lives. I don't believe that I fit in what their plans were. Most of the things, things I had to learn from a male figure, I had to learn on my own, from books and such. How to tie a tie, shoot a jump shot, hit a baseball, talk to women(which I really can't do very well, hence my being single at 29), I had to learn from reading books, watching T.V. or from the Internet, which was still just beginning at the time. I never felt that I had a definitive male presence in my life. I'm pretty sure that if any of my family reads this, they may disagree with me, but this is how I feel. This is what growing up felt like to me.

As for my own father, my birth father, those that I've told about that situation, you already know how that goes. That's not something I'm truly ready to share with the world just yet. Just know that I know who and where he is, and I feel that the day when I finally approach him and confront him on what he did, is coming soon. I have absolutely no qualms about confronting him and calling him out. I think 29 years is enough time to clear the air and get it off my chest and out of my heart. Perhaps, then, maybe I can truly begin to forgive him, for not being there, when I needed him.

I'm sorry everyone. I went into a long diatribe and this isn't really supposed to be about that. This is supposed to be about me focusing on my life, as a 29 year old and trying to progress. I guess this will also include my own opinions and thoughts about my life, as well. I truly hope that I didn't bore anyone or turn anyone away from this. Anyways, thank you for taking the time to read this. 

Until next time, America(and other countries I may have readers in).