I remember it as if it were yesterday. All I have to do is gaze, deep into the big brown eyes staring at me from behind the mirror. There they are. Daddy and his baby princess. He was her King in their giant castle. He was the one she trusted to make all her bizarre dreams unfold, one by one. Each night, a new story told, which her wild imagination would come up with. When she hurt herself, or felt sad, she would run to daddy. Now, with each day evolving, a new scar was being revealed and it has started to become a lot more evident in her smile. There’s only so much one individual can hide, or guard against feeling. Eventually something tiny will shatter the years of attempted protection, and there will be a vulnerable little girl, standing there in the state she tried to prevent from the start.
No one will understand my intensity of pain, because in the eyes of other people I am a privileged, young girl. I couldn’t agree more. I have the most amazing mother, along with three best friends who I call my sisters. But my perfect picture couldn’t be more incomplete. I envy all my friends and how they can just speak about anything to their fathers, as if they were long last friends. How they can laugh at nothing. How they can wake up in the morning and see his face. I feel immensely jealous when their fathers fetch them from school, dressed in their business suits, knowing they’ve done all they can to make sure his little girl gets exactly what she needs and deserves.
After the divorce, things were manageable. It was all new, raw and confusing. But being apart of the Garson family, we made it through together. Years passed and things started to slip. Situations got nasty and messy, leaving me one opinion of my King, one I didn’t want. Plenty times I tried to cut him out of my life completely, all out of irrational hurt and confusion. Other times I felt like he was all I needed at the end of a bad day. And the worst feeling of all, was when I would lie in bed and cry myself to sleep at the thought of what once was. My family was so perfect. Flawless. Yes we had troubles, but anyone normal does.
Now as I get older, wiser, and start to understand more, it seems to be hurting me repeatedly. I’m at the time of my life where a father figure is usually a major necessity and life is incredibly short. I feel as if a divorce, a pile of papers and countless fights, has ripped the true soul from me. I feel so torn and I don’t know which way to turn. I can feel myself closing up to everyone, blocking them out so they can’t see the vulnerable little girl whose being exposed. I try not to cry, because someone once told me crying is a sign of weakness. I feel my shell hardening, resenting the people I love most. I’m beginning to trust no one but myself. I am lost and insecure. And it’s all because my a silly divorce shattered my heart. Its taken me time to admit it. But I've come to a realization that if I can admit it to myself, the person I truly can trust, then I’ll be ok.
It’s quite a drastic change, going from ‘daddy’s little girl’ to the ‘resentful teen’. Maybe I do need to pull myself together. Regardless of the aching I have in my heart. Perhaps it’s just not significant enough to be acknowledged. Maybe I'm being an immature drama queen or a selfish adolescent seeking unnecessary attention. No matter what peoples opinions are of me, or how I handle my situations, I'm not going to change. I’ve been molded by a 5-year divorce and I'm tired. This is me, my past shaped who I am, and that’s nothing I can help. I have a lot of anger; hurt and frustration in me and as a result of this I have developed insomnia and bedtime tears. I am possibly too sensitive, but can you blame me? I am stuck on the fact that there is no such thing as happy endings, and I’m scared.
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