The Story

"All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to..."

-Brandi Carlile

I have probably used this quote before. It is one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite artists. I urge you to look it up if you do not know it.

So why write about it? Well, I have a story to tell.

About a month ago, I started seeing a therapist. I felt stuck in my day to day life and that started to turn into anxiety and frustration. So I decided to ask for help.

I have been pleased with my progress so far. I have identified some "triggers" for me that cause me to behave in a certain way and I have learned to be more introspective. I am a work-in-progress and have to realize to be patient with myself. What I am now is 42 years in the making and it can't be undone or "fixed" in a few hours a month. 

I had a session this morning. About half-way through, we started talking about depression and how worried I am about how depression may impact me since it runs in my family. I talked about my father's sister and how she committed suicide when I was in high school. I talked about some of my own insecurities and fears. I talked about my relationship with my father and how that shaped me.

My therapist had no idea my dad was gay. She did now know there was a huge custody battle when I was a teenager. She did not know my dad once owned his own company. She did not know anything about him aside from the fact that he was gone.

This was MIND BLOWING to me. In the past, my dad's story - who he was to me, how he was not really there for me, how he played my brothers and I against each other - was always MY story. His highs and lows were often my highs and lows. His existence defined mine.

But that was then. And this is now. In the now, my dad is a footnote. A part of my past that is worth revisiting and exploring, but not a main chapter. I am my own chapter now.

I do not know when he stopped being a main character. It was long before he died. Was it when I finally let myself be the center of my story? I do not know. 

There was a lot of good about my dad. There was also a lot of not so good. Identifying all of those aspects will help me tell the story of who I am and who I want to be.

The older I get, the more I experience, the bigger my story gets. 

Thanks for sticking around and continuing to read it!