hey dad.

I have been spending quite some time lately to sorting and organizing several generations of family photos.

I have seen you from birth until your death. Grandma kept every school picture, many candid family shots, and even your very detailed baby book. I have your first words and even the little information card they give in the hospital for the baby bassinet. She kept so much and loved us so much. She truly did the best she could with what she had. I have to prepare myself that she wouldn’t be at my wedding. I know she wants to be, but her addiction and entanglements prevent her. I do not hold it against her.

For the first time in many, many years, I feel close to you. I feel like I know you. I remember you. I am excited to show and discuss with your brother. I foresee being the family historian.

With all this, there comes an intense avalanche of emotions.

I feel so guilty. Guilty for being alive. Guilty that the sun kept rising. Guilty that life has moved on. Guilty that we couldn’t break the generational trauma sooner. Guilty I broke it and left Grandma and my brothers behind. Guilty I am not better yet. Guilty I have it so good but I can’t snap out of it. Guilt is so heavy and most time I am exhausted from it.

I feel shame at my core. It is hot to the touch. It is fundamental to my being. I do not think I have been without shame since being an infant. It is so incredibly loud. Shame has robbed me of so much.

Why do I put up with this shit?

I am drowning.

However, I have a strong lifebuoy. It is a giant group of people who love me unconditionally for reasons I will one day accept. They are my biggest supporters and love me enough even when I am in a wallow of guilt, shame, and yuck. They rush me with kindness and acceptance.

I also have on a life jacket. My life jacket is Tom. Tom is incredible. Today, I was paralyzed with unbelievable physical pain and heavy bleeding from my menstrual cycle. Without any prompting, he took to cleaning my chinchilla cage and completing several other of my daily household tasks. This is normal for him. Tom is patient and kind. He is my biggest ally.

Both of my life preservers tell me constantly that no matter what, they are in my corner, fighting for me when I cannot. I am not forsaken or forgotten.

I am loved.

For that, I am forever thankful.