This past week has been one of those weeks where I simply wanted to curl up in a corner and disappear. Not exactly sure why I felt the way I felt, but those old feelings were haunting me like an episode of Ghost Whisperer.
For the moment, it did not seem like I could do enough. Frustrated that at every turn when I have one area of the house cleaned and organized, another one is suddenly a mess and in chaos. In fact, it was not just the burden of trying to keep the house organized and cleaned, it was that sensation of one who experiences claustrophobia. The anxiety, the fear, the pressure that everything is closing in on you. Those were my feelings this past week.
After much contemplation, reflection, the root of this sensation was the recent discovery of an essay I had written had been taken and published on another website. Without any credit towards me, the essay was published as another persons work and people commented on about how wonderful the writing was.
This essay was written when I suffered a serious bout of depression. A time in my life when things just seemed to cave in on me. A time that had become one of many crossroads in my life and I needed to reassess what is most important to me.
Not only did this person steal my work, but had stolen all emotions attached to that work.
Funny thing, when we go through some of the most severe trials in our lives, we wish that someone could take away those pains, those feelings of worthlessness, do away with them so that we would not have to walk in that path. However, the sense of having those feelings actually stolen from you is a violation of your own identity. A violation of who you are, your past, and the things that you had to face with courage and determination.
Not only was this bothersome to me, there is also the sense of missing my other three children. I, for whatever reason, can’t shake the feeling that it is time I need to start searching for them. A time when I need to make every available effort to find out where they are, how they are doing, and what is going on in there life. It is almost a driven obsession to locate.
Concerning this latter – it is really bringing up those old feelings of failure as a father. A failure as a parent who did not do enough to fight for his children. Granted, I am blessed with a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter, and a wonderful (and yet challenging at times) step-son, however, I still fill that gnawing emptiness within the depths of my own soul.
Having children that are not a part of your life is heartbreaking. All those missed moments of seeing them smile, watching them grow, feeling their arms wrap around my neck and hearing those wonderful words “I love you daddy.” All of these feelings compound and trouble me.
I begin to question myself – did I do the right thing? Am I doing the right thing?
It is something I have always struggled with, wondered, and have allowed to consume me at times.
I just simply can’t shake off these old feelings and I need to.
