You know what is sad? My dad isn’t even buried here. Nope. I come to an empty plot where his name is on a rock to ‘visit’ him at least once a month. It’s hard coming here and not just for reasons you would think, and yet a part of my heart finds healing when I do.
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It’s hard here because the thoughts and feelings of having him truly gone are at my forefront. It’s hard because I know he isn’t actually buried here, he’s buried in a place that I cannot go yet. It is not safe. The reason pains my soul and haunts me in the night. It’s hard because I see my mom’s name on that rock, next to his, and I’m reminded of the pain and obsessions that come from life as a child, life when my parents separated and later divorced, who my mom became, who my dad married next, and all the family pain that followed/follows all of these life changes. I try so hard to only focus on what’s at hand in this situation, me and my dad. Our love. Our relationship. However, it’s not that simple nor that easy.
They say there is a silver lining in all things. I acknowledge the fact that I have this space close to my home, this space is not shared, there can be healing in this space, and that my dad’s love for me is still here and forever. I’m grateful he knows the truth and I know the truth, even if this knowledge doesn’t wipe away the hurt and suffering.
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So. It’s been hard. The tragedy of losing my father + the traumatic experiences that went on during and after his death + OCD = An amusement park for suffering, sorrow, and obsessive, intrusive thoughts and images. I’ve certainly been busy at work.
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It’s been 194 days since you left this world. How!? Miss you every day, ol man.
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Maybe I can find success in creating my own place.
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#ocd #ocdexposuretherapy #cemetery #ocdisreal #realocd #ocdawareness #therapy #healing #roadtorecovery #ocdrecovery
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