Being the 'Strong One'
I'll never forget the day that I got the phone call from my older brother telling me that I needed to meet him because he needed to talk to me. I had so many thoughts running through my head. Was everybody okay? Did somebody Die? He wouldn't tell me anything unless I met him.
I left my friend's house and drove to meet my brother. I slowly crawled into the front seat of his truck and tried to read his face. He had this look in his eyes that I'll never forget. After he told me everything, I just remember busting into tears and thinking:
"My dad? My funny and loving dad had an affair?"
I just couldn't believe it. Then everything fell into place and it all made sense. The drinking, the staying out late every night in the barn talking on the phone, the working late. It all clicked.
I somehow drove back to pick up my friend, and my brother followed me the entire 45 minutes home. I could barely see the road through the tears. My brother took my friend to my house to get her car because I couldn't bare to see my dad. I was so angry.
I stayed with my brother and his wife for the next few days. I couldn't even go the next day when they told my little brother. I knew I was being selfish, but I couldn't see my baby brother like that, and all I could think about doing was hitting my dad. I wanted him to feel every bit of pain he was putting me through.
I can't tell you how many times over the next few months that people called me "strong". I wanted to laugh in their face. They had no idea what was going on inside my head. But I had to keep that all inside. I did have to be strong. I had to be the rock. I had to be there for my mom and for my brothers. I couldn't let my dad see that he had completely destroyed me.
All the hopes and dreams of my dad giving permission to the man that wanted to marry me, walking me down the aisle, and having a relationship with my children. Gone. Gone in a matter of minutes.
I didn't understand why people kept calling me strong. I didn't get it. I wasn't strong. I was angry. I refused to speak to my dad for over nine months and I only spoke to him, because I didn't want to make my family uncomfortable at Thanksgiving dinner.
Almost three years later, I know now why they called me strong and it's because I am. I don't doubt it or question it now. That was definitely the hardest situation I have ever been through and I hope it's the hardest thing I'll ever go through, but in a weird way I'm thankful for what I went through. It made me into the person I am. It helped me realize what I wanted out of life and to always stand up for myself and for the people I love. It made my little family stronger. The relationship I have with my dad now isn't a good one. We go months without speaking and when we do it usually turns into an argument. But my mom, brothers, sister-in-law, and my precious nephews are extremely close. We stick together through thick and thin... always.
I left my friend's house and drove to meet my brother. I slowly crawled into the front seat of his truck and tried to read his face. He had this look in his eyes that I'll never forget. After he told me everything, I just remember busting into tears and thinking:
"My dad? My funny and loving dad had an affair?"
I just couldn't believe it. Then everything fell into place and it all made sense. The drinking, the staying out late every night in the barn talking on the phone, the working late. It all clicked.
I somehow drove back to pick up my friend, and my brother followed me the entire 45 minutes home. I could barely see the road through the tears. My brother took my friend to my house to get her car because I couldn't bare to see my dad. I was so angry.
I stayed with my brother and his wife for the next few days. I couldn't even go the next day when they told my little brother. I knew I was being selfish, but I couldn't see my baby brother like that, and all I could think about doing was hitting my dad. I wanted him to feel every bit of pain he was putting me through.
I can't tell you how many times over the next few months that people called me "strong". I wanted to laugh in their face. They had no idea what was going on inside my head. But I had to keep that all inside. I did have to be strong. I had to be the rock. I had to be there for my mom and for my brothers. I couldn't let my dad see that he had completely destroyed me.
All the hopes and dreams of my dad giving permission to the man that wanted to marry me, walking me down the aisle, and having a relationship with my children. Gone. Gone in a matter of minutes.
I didn't understand why people kept calling me strong. I didn't get it. I wasn't strong. I was angry. I refused to speak to my dad for over nine months and I only spoke to him, because I didn't want to make my family uncomfortable at Thanksgiving dinner.
Almost three years later, I know now why they called me strong and it's because I am. I don't doubt it or question it now. That was definitely the hardest situation I have ever been through and I hope it's the hardest thing I'll ever go through, but in a weird way I'm thankful for what I went through. It made me into the person I am. It helped me realize what I wanted out of life and to always stand up for myself and for the people I love. It made my little family stronger. The relationship I have with my dad now isn't a good one. We go months without speaking and when we do it usually turns into an argument. But my mom, brothers, sister-in-law, and my precious nephews are extremely close. We stick together through thick and thin... always.
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