Ugh, first off, who the hell taught my dad how to Facebook? On every freakin post I make, he has to comment with something corny, embarrassing, or awkward. Every freaking post! I just want to tell shut up and stop typing, that he doesn't need to comment on every fucking post, especially with the exact same mushy phrase! I don't feel that I can post as much about anything that I really care about without him saying something that completely misses the point! Or makes it all about him!
He's a good grandfather (most of the time), but he wasn't always a good father, and I'm getting tired of him trying to look like he's good dad. Shoot, I'm nervous in even writing about him just in case he knows about my blogs!
There are some things that aren't any of his business (and I have a right to vent and get these emotions and concerns out, right?!)
For exmaple, this:
I posted this article from Scary Mommy about why more people don't talk about miscarriages. One of my friends shared her story, and I was about to share mine, then realized that my dad would see it and say something mushy and corny, acting like a good father.... so I just PMed my friend instead. (She suggested that I make him an Acquaintance, and I'm thinking about it; he's embarrassing. It just feels like a fucking show to me.)
When I first found out about losing Nathan in 2011, we only told those who we had initially told about the pregnancy. I kept it secret from everyone else, except on my blogs. It was easier telling strangers and readers than people I knew. I'm not particularly popular in the web, so only a handful of people would read it. No one I knew. It was easier communicating and receiving comments from them. They don't know me, I felt that they were genuine.
Not telling those I knew, it wasn't out of shame. But fear...I suppose. I didn't want to face stupid, rude or "helpful" comments that are apparently the norm with other families who've experienced loss. The kind that make a grieving person want to punch someone in the face. I didn't want pity. I didn't even want compassion. I started on a downward spiral, by posting hateful things in order to gain hatred. I wanted people to hate and loath me, because I hated myself. I felt that I deserved it.
Eventually, all that changed. I came out of it okay. I also started to tell friends about it. It's like when I talk about the child abuse I endured, it's not for attention, it's to let others who may have gone through it that they're not alone. That you can lead a somewhat normal life and not repeat the cycle. There's a light at the end of the tunnel...you have to fight to get there, but it's there. You are not alone. Taboos and secrecy solve nothing. It's okay to talk about these things... That's why I do. To help it be okay to do so. To encourage others to express this loss in any way that they feel is right; to not keep it bottled inside.
My mom found out about the miscarriage accidentally when she accompanied us to Wolfman's gender ultrasound. I wasn't ready to tell her then, but she found out. For a moment, I panicked, but she didn't make a big deal out of it.
I didn't tell her because we don't connect emotionally. She doesn't listen to my problems, but instead turns things back on me. It's my fault. Even though I knew that the miscarriage wasn't my fault, I didn't want to risk hearing her saying it. She never did. Which is a huge relief and weight off of my shoulders. Yet it's nothing that I can go to her about, because she might just be one of those people to asked why I'm not over it... But then she had an abortion between my brother and me, and was emotionally connected to it. But...I've never really been able to connect with her...I understand why sometimes she's like that, but it sucks. A hurt child should be able to talk to their parent about their problems and not be judged for it. Ya know?
Not all of my family know, but I'm not hiding it either. No one comments on anything, except friends who've experienced miscarriages and infant loss. Or are just compassionate people. I think my first breakthrough was when I made a memorial ornament for Nathan this past Winter Solstice. It was Facebook Public (only to my friend's list). No one commented, but it's out there. Honestly, I don't want "oh, I'm so sorry" or "how sad" or any of those comments. They just feel....empty and an obligation. I dunno, I have a problem with accepting compassion and kindness from other people. I'm so used to being lied to and being around fake people that I can't always tell when someone's being sincere. So I'd rather not deal with it, I guess...
Going back to the article and why I didn't publicly respond...I just don't feel that my dad deserves to know. This is my pain, my loss; I don't want to share it with him. I don't want that connection with him.
(Thought about it, done. I almost went off on him and his stupid comments on Facebook. Instead, I did the mature thing, according to this and the other Aries who suggested it, and just moved his ass to Acquaintance.)