13 years and counting

May 25, 2002. I was a high school student, in my second last year of high school. On that particular morning, while on my morning stroll up and down the hall, a poster happened to catch my eye. I stopped to look at it for show reason, and was intrigued. It read: An Evening of Music with Alan Doyle and his guitar. I knew the name, but wasn't the fan I am now. All the same though, I was interested in hearing him and seeing if I liked his music.

When I returned home from school that evening, I told my mother about the poster, and the event. She agreed it sounded like something good to do, and the price of $10 was decent. So we got tickets, and I eagerly awaited Saturday night. Just a few days before the show, several people found out that Séan (McCann) would be accompanying Alan for the night. So we were seeing half of what was then the current arrangement of GBS for a decent price and a great cause.

I don't remember much about that night, save for a few details. Alan won me over with Boston and St. John's, Séan belted out General Taylor with all his might, and nearly split my eardrums (and I suspect of others). There were jokes (Yo, who's the Big C?) and ("for the rest of the evening, I'll be his guitar), and continuous banter. I remember them being disoriented because they weren't standing in their usual spots on the stage. I remember being starstruck when asking for their autographs. But most of all I remember the feeling of belonging. I was hooked,instantly. 2 weeks later I owned Sea of No Cares, and I haven't looked back.

It's seen me through all the ups and downs life has thrown at me. There was a divorce, my autism, a suicide attempt (my own), bullying, floods, and now a continued battle with depression. I've made some amazing friends - most of who I consider family now, travelled, organized pre-show gatherings, and grown in so many ways. The depression is the worst of it all. Sometimes it feels like it's swallowing me whole, and I don't know how I'll get through. I turn to music, and to Alan (who feels more like a friend after 13 years) who is almost always there with kind words, advice, a smile or funny face, and on several occasions since June 2010, a comforting hug.

All this came because I stopped to look at a poster in the hallway at school. Nothing more, nothing less.

Best decision I've ever made!

Jealous

I admit it. I'm jealous.

All you girls/women out there that have a great relationship with your Dad, I envy you. Probably so much so that the ugly green eyed monster is rearing its head right now. But it's not your fault. Not one bit.

Even from my earliest memories, my Dad and I aren't what I would call close. Does he love me? Yeah, that I have no doubt of. But his mind of love is just the kind that exists because of DNA. He has to love me because he fathered me. Hugs always felt empty, and words were too. After a while, it just seemed normal to me.

As I grew, nothing really changed. He didn't have time for me, and I made myself be okay with it. If I closed myself off to the pain being let down brought, it wouldn't hurt as bad. Or so I thought. But through countless broken promises and lies, the wall that I'd built up slowly crumbled. Every time he'd broken a promise to me, I'd cry, wondering why he'd done it. It made me feel like I was just a second thought. Never a priority.

To be honest with you all, I always thought there was something wrong with me; that there had to be something I did or said that made him decide that I wasn't worth spending time with. Logically I know that's not the case, but when you think with your heart, things are never as clear as they should be. I now know the truth for what it is: he's selfish. If he cared about me at all, he wouldn't make promises he couldn't keep. If he really loves me, he'd stop letting me down, and I'd stop being hurt. I'm sick of being let down. I'm sick of crying over him, time and time again. Sick of tears streaming down my face, and my heart feeling like it's breaking.

All I want is a normal relationship with my Dad, one where he loves me and protects me just like a father should. But that's a pipe dream that's never going to come true. Every girl deserves a father who values and treasures her, makes her feel special. That's never going to be a reality for me. Might as well get used to it, I guess, because that's my normal.

So to you girls out there lucky enough to have a great relationship with your Dad, treasure it. Your reality is something I could only dream of.