All I Could Find...

...All I could say, was - (do you remember, Nancy?)

"There is no he..."

Over and over again. When it came to "He" - there just wasn't one.

There is a blank, empty space.

Recently I was told my father didn't understand me. That I understood him, but he didn't understand me. I had come to peace with it all. Felt happy, embraced and supported by my father, even - but with that little statement my denial crashed down (faulty, insubstantial mist that it was in the first place), and I am left unsettled, vaguely angry, sad and depressed. Will nothing change?

The items I thought would comfort me are dead, empty reminders of what is NOT; tenuous mental-bonds to something that now, if I can adjust my mind just right, will become a silly fantasy based on what?... Imagination. I choose to experience PROOF - so do your part, Dad. Something for me alone. Indisputable and life-changing.

I've asked 'God' for that too, all my life. Either I'm too narrow in my vision and scope of understanding, or God's an asshole. I'm sick of the notion 'God' knows better than me, what's good for me. I'm sick of my body living here and my mind in some fantasy (no matter how back-corner tucked away it is). What does a person have to do to get some relief?

What makes me think demanding proof from my Dad is going to be any more accessible than proof from 'God'?! Actually, I trust my Dad more than I trust God. I mean, I know my Dad. And even if he didn't 'understand' me, he loved his family more than anything and I know, KNOW, that if he can do something for me, he will. Period. I have trust in that like I've NEVER had in 'God'. I know that like I know I'm drinking coffee right now, like I know I'm alive this very moment.

Fucking faith. I may want to quit, but I can't. I write through the anger and pain and find this glowing little light bulb of HOPE somewhere in the middle of everything. That's me. Where does it come from? Why doesn't it die? I feel like I've lived and it's over. Only I'm still here.

Yesterday I was flipping through the channels and saw Wayne Dyer talking about "The Power Of Intention". It was on for less than one minute, but the words seared into me. He said, "If you are questioning why you are here, what your purpose is, it is because your purpose is trying to connect with you - keep thinking about it! Keep thinking about it, because it has to start somewhere."

It felt like a message to me. That is exactly - to that specific verbage - what I have been thinking about endlessly for days, weeks and months now. It's been a vague rumbling on and off for years - forever, it seems like, but the last few months it has been the single, driving question in my heart, mind, body, soul. Myself is unified in asking, "Why am I here, what is my purpose?"

Every day. Through good times and bad, in sickness and health - you get the idea. It has sickened me. I've thought I've known several times - I don't. I don't know. To hear those words! That it is OKAY to THINK ABOUT IT - that it's GOOD to THINK about it - to KEEP thinking about it!!! That is GREAT news to a person like me - the BEST news!!! My purpose is trying very hard to connect with me - THAT'S why I'm thinking about it so much!

Well, I hope I don't die before I feel I've fulfilled my potential in some way. Whatever 'purpose' there is to be had by me being here, I hope I'm living it regardless of any consciousness of it - but you know what? That's just SHIT. I think being human sucks. I don't want to wait till I'm in some other form, after human death, to go, "Ooooohhhhh - yeah - I should have just relaxed and LIVED! Look how great my life was and I didn't even know it! Wow - I was really a lot cooler than I thought - and more secure - and I didn't need to worry at all! - look at that!" WHAT SHIT!

God IS an asshole. My Dad was too, sometimes. (me too, I know, I know....) Like I said, though, I know that if there is anything at all he could do for me - or any of his family - now, he would and will. He was like that about family. Absolutely and without doubt. So this Father's Day I'll be on the lookout, like every day. Too stupid to see what's in front of my face, no doubt... Like Depeche Mode says, "I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors, but I think that God's got a sick sense of humor and when I die, I expect to find him laughing."

Happy Dad's Day Dad. I love you. You didn't understand me (or any of us?) because you never took the time to look out from between the fused sections of your spinal cord to realize we needed you. Cough up. Your daughter, Molly