Last night was a rough night for sleep in terms of nightmares and anxiety. I forgot to pack my essential oils on this trip 😩
Well, then this morning I got a call from my biological dad at about 9am. I didn’t answer. He was clearly intoxicated in the voicemail he left me.
I could feel the anger building up inside of me as I listened to over a minute of slurred speech and bullshit.
It’s the kind of anger that makes you want to throw something or punch the wall…or cut. It’s the kind of anger that makes you physically sick all day. A little over a week ago I poured my heart out in six pages of pure emotion, giving away some of the blame for my abuse for the first time ever. In those six pages, I talked about how my dad failed to protect me and keep me safe. Because he did. His addiction and all of the “isms” that go with alcoholism got in the way of him being a stable father figure.
Hearing his voice today literally made me sick to my stomach. I can’t call him back. I don’t have anything productive to say to him. As a kid, I was raised to not use the word “hate.” It’s ok to dislike things and it’s ok to disagree with people, but we never hate. Trying to just sit with these emotions and accept that today I hate my biological dad is difficult. Sitting with any strong emotions is always challenging, but sitting with hate is excruciating. I’m hoping to make it to a candlelight deep stretch yoga class tonight to help release the overwhelming negative emotions that I’m struggling with.