Fathers and Self

In an attempt to get back to my couple of posts a week schedule, I am writing once more. Writing in this blog seems to make me feel better, and that's always good.

Today I realized Father's Day is near. I don't know when exactly, but since I'm fairly sure it's date changes every year it is no surprise I don't remember. I'm bad with dates anyway. Anyway, as I thought about this, I had to think about dads in general, and then my own. A father is who a girl bases all her future relationships with men on. Our dad is the first man we love, our protector, killer of bugs, builder of tree houses. The one who teaches us to ride our bikes and picks us up and throws us in the air. He is the one standing there proudly as you go to prom, and the one who threatens your boyfriends (or girlfriends) with physical harm if they break your heart. He is there to hug you when times are bad, to be your rock. And eventually he is the one who gives you into the keeping of your husband, entrusting that man with his most precious possession: his baby girl. As a girl, a father shapes us more than we realize. John Mayer had it right when he wrote that song about fathers and daughters. I realize my father is a great man. He is loving and unselfish and calm, someone who can support others, a hard worker. I love him deeply, and I know I would do anything for him, because I want to be a daughter who makes her father proud.

This is where the "self" in the title comes in. As I thought about that last sentence, I had to think, do I think I am a good daughter? Or even a good person? First I have to look at myself physically and mentally. Physically, I think I am average, not beautiful, but not hard on the eyes either. I have a face between oval and heart, a good nose and chin, high cheekbones, pale skin (purposely), deep dark brown eyes, and freckles. My sole vanity is my hair. I love my hair. It's long and think and curly, but what I adore about it is the color. I have a shade of auburn, one I poetically call "autumn fire". In the winter it gets a bit more brown, but only for a couple of months, but otherwise it's a nice sable brown intertwined with coppery red. It's the kind of color I have been told numerous times that women pay big money for my shade of auburn. So, that's my sole vanity. I am tall for a woman, but not too tall. I don't like my breasts, not because they are small per se, but because I have a physical defect that means that one is a different size from the other (I know it's natural for them to be a little different, but I am talking cup sizes here). Eventually I might get them done so I won't be so self conscious of them anymore. I am not fat, quite the opposite, I have trouble keeping on weight usually, and I am now perpetually at 150 pounds, which is a good weight. My hips are average, my legs are long and okay. Physically, I am simply mediocre in my opinion, but I am usually told I am an idiot for thinking that. Mentally, I am very, very not mediocre. I know I am smart, forgetful and ditsy, but smart (I get it from Dad, he's damn close to being a genius in my opinion). I do have problems, I have ADD (from Mom) and depression (also from Mom, but she doesn't have it, it skipped her). I am bad at social ques, like when to talk and how to respond (comes with more severe form of ADD). I know I am selfish, most people are. I also know I can be cranky and mean. I also know, despite my trying to, I have the same good/bad trait my mom does in her personality: sometimes I am too nice and let people walk over me. This is mainly true with friends and family. I also know I am loyal, that if someone I loved needed me, I would drop everything and go to them (I have done so, too). I also need to work on letting people know when I am in trouble, because it is okay to need help.

I don't know if I am a good person, but I think I could be a better daughter (like remembering to water the pants my parents spent a lot of money on). No one is perfect, we all have our flaws, maybe I am just too aware of my own to see my good side. It is hard to think you are good when you have thought you are bad for so long. My therapist tells me I am getting better at realizing some things aren't my fault, and that I am not a terrible person. I do sometimes wish I didn't have ADD, that I could be like other people, focusing and remembering. However, I also know I am more likely to win the lottery than lose the ADD (once you are past your teens and it's still there, you pretty much are stuck with it). Damn, I wish I would stop thinking like this so much. I am finding deep thoughts usually make one want a good, stiff drink.