Father’s Day is just around the corner, which means the worst day of my year is also around the corner.
Ever since my parent’s divorce I’ve hated father’s day. I used to hate it because I didn’t feel like I had a father at all.
I’m hating it for very different reasons this year.
During my fall semester, my counselor talked to me about allowing myself to be a daughter to Mike. I feel like I’ve started to do that–it only took me eight years. This year, I feel like Mike is getting the short end of the stick. Father issues are starting to peek their heads (by that I mean issues that I’ve never been brave enough to address with Dan) because of my pending wedding. The girls aren’t talking to him, for really good reasons. I’ve figured out that it’s time for me to start acting like a sister. Mostly because when I try to do my own relationship with him, I get tangled in the web that comes with being an unintentional go-between.
I want both fathers to be in my wedding, because although he’s biological, Dan is Dan. He’s like a close friend that I sometimes squirmish with. Mike is my dad. The reason I know is because of my reaction when each is mad at me. With Dan, I don’t really care. But with Mike, I’m hysterical. If Mike’s mad at me, I know I’ve done something I really shouldn’t have. To be really honest, I’m at a point where if Dan has issue with the reception being at our house, or issue with both dads walking me down the aisle, or issue with 2 father-daughter dances, he doesn’t have to come. I know that sounds drastic, but this is one thing I’m not willing to budge on.
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