Fleeing Father’s Day

Father’s day is hard for me.

I’ve been trying to reclaim it in Manannan’s name, as He is my Father now. Since I cut my bio-sire out of my life and accepted Manannan’s offer to adopt me, I have been looking for ways to heal the deep wounds left by having a narcissistic sociopathic abuser for a bio-sire. It’s doubly fitting to make Father’s Day for Manannan, as it is so near the Summer Solstice (in the Northern Hemisphere), and that is also His holiday.

It’s still hard for me. I’m not quite at the point where it’s been fully reclaimed.

For weeks now I’ve done the Sunday shopping with my husband, and had to force myself to keep walking down the aisle with greeting cards, not allowing myself to linger in melancholy. Colorful cardstock with words like “Dad, you’re the best” on them leap out at me and remind me — not only of all the shitty stuff from my bio-sire, but all the good stuff too. And the good stuff — the grooming — makes me feel like a bad child, like I should disrespect the boundaries I worked so hard to put up and let him back in my life. Because “it’s hard on him”, and he taught me well that his needs are more important than mine. Mine, in fact, should be non-existent.

Mr. Morag has given me many hugs while we shop, his shirts soaking up the small tears that escape before I gain composure. It sucks to cry in the grocery store. I do not recommend.

So this year I didn’t do anything for Solstice, except write a poem for my Father (which I only managed to pen yesterday). I wanted to do an actual ritual — something to celebrate the day. But the shadow of Father’s Day was too dark, and I could not focus properly.

Someday I hope that I’m able to put a Father’s Day card — whether store-bought or homemade — on my shrine to Manannan. I hope I am able to celebrate the day with Him, to honor Him as He deserves. I hope the day is a day of joy, and not something that makes Solstice too hard for me to face.

Healing is a slow process. I know there is more I should be doing to be more proactive in it, but even if I were — it would be slow. My bio-sire was in my life wreaking havoc for 26 years, and since I’ve cut him out he’s continued to stalk me and goad my half-sister into fighting his battles for him. I cannot expect healing to happen in just 4 years, especially when he’s not even 100% gone.

But I keep walking forward, one foot in front of the other. Someday I will heal enough. Someday it will not be so hard. Someday I will get through this time of year without feeling like there are daggers in my chest.

Someday. Not today.

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