This is not a pity party...

Father’s day has always been a day of bittersweet reflection on my childhood for me. Bitter because I am not on speaking terms with my father. I haven’t seen him since my wedding and before that it had been 5 years. He has never met my son, although I suspect my great aunt has sent him a picture or two. Sweet because now that my husband is a father, he really is the best daddy in the world, and I make an effort to celebrate it for him. I really and truly believe that I am the luckiest woman in the world to have him for my son’s daddy. I feel immensely blessed to finally be able to see what a father’s love looks like.

I hesitated about posting this because I don't want this to look like a pity party on my part. We all have little boo-boos on our hearts. I'm in a really good place in my life now. I struggle sometimes, but who doesn't?


On Father’s day I realized that I have no memories of my dad telling me how beautiful I was after I was dumped by my first boyfriend. I never got to have him come to my rescue when I got in over my head with the wrong crowd. My father was just never there for me.

I am getting better now. My husband has been teaching me how to trust my heart again. In the last 6 years I have given up most of my bad habits. As of last year the only vice I had left was food. I honestly didn’t have as much trouble giving up smoking as I am having with giving up food. I am tired and worn down over it. I feel like I am chugging up hill. There are days, when I know that I’m just doing enough to give the appearance of trying but my heart isn’t really into it.

I think part of it has to do with how closely food is tied to emotion. We show our families extra love by making a special meal. We celebrate the birthdays of people close to us with cake. We sooth our children’s sore throats and fevers with ice pops. We use M&Ms as rewards for potty training success. If our kids lose a soccer game we take them for ice cream. Santa and the Easter Bunny bring good little boys and girls candy and treats. We give the ones we love a box of candy on Valentine’s Day. Warm weather means cookouts with family and friends along with sugary frozen cocktails. We are taught from a very young age that being happy and loved is celebrated with a feast of good food and drink.

So I guess it makes sense that on Father’s day, when those childhood hurts came floating to the surface, I was feeling a little extra vulnerable and ate a brownie. Ok I ate two brownies. I know it’s not the most horrible thing I could have done, but the fact that I allowed my emotions to overcome my common sense and good judgment and gave into temptation like that makes me cringe inside. So I find myself this Monday morning re-committing to my goals (again) and promising myself I’ll do better (again) and giving myself the pep talk (again). Grrrr. This totally sucks.