THE PERFECT DAD THAT WAS EVERYTHING BUT PERFECT

Why your Dad is the Perfect Dad regardless of how society may have viewed him.

It will soon be Father’s Day and here is to all the times, I never bought a card and for all the girls out there with less than perfect Dads.

 

How to view your biological dad as a blessing in your life even if you view him as not present, an alcoholic, a deadbeat, a drug addict, or any other less than the “perfect” Dad. This Dad that you may think is less than perfect played an important role in your life even if it were to only bring you into this world.

 

This is a tribute to my Dad that I am finally at peace with. I forgive him and I forgive me. I thank him for the part he played in my life. I thank him for the Sister I’ve known all of her life and for our other Sister that I am now in contact with and look forward to knowing the rest of my life here on earth.

 

There are many children in this world that dreamed of the “perfect” Dad. That is the perfect Dad in the eyes of society and old cultural programming.

 

I was the epitome of wanting the perfect Dad. My Dad was perfect but I couldn’t realize that until recent. He was perfect and he gave me all that I needed from him this lifetime. I didn’t choose him for the father figure, I chose him for my Dad to teach determination, forgiveness, independence and to follow my own journey and not the journey that others set out for me to follow and for this he was perfect.

Early in life, I would see my friends sitting in their Dad’s lap batting their eyes and hearing their Dad unable to say no to the apple of his eye. I would go to bed dreaming or crying that my Dad would come home to stay soon. I would dream of what it would be that I could ask for when I would finally get the chance to set in his lap. I envisioned I would feel his heart melting as I would hear his Donald Duck response. That never happened the way I wanted and unknown to me an internal boo boo began to grow.

 

#ITSMYJOURNEY SOFT TEE

He would drop in to say hello and occasionally pick my sis and I up for the day. Most often he arrived looking great but not without the smell of last night’s party being disguised by cologne. I didn’t care, I still viewed him and dreamed him as everything he was not. He didn’t stand a chance to live up to my expectations of what I thought he should be. The internal boo boo continue to enlarge as I titled myself a victim of a runaway Dad.

 

By age eleven and sister age eight, we had a new half sister that entered the picture. My Dad appeared to have settled down with his new family. I do not recall ever feeling jealous, I think I was happy to think that we would continue to be able to see him more often. Unfortunately, his “settled down” didn’t exactly meet the expectations of my “settled down” and therefore this is short lived in my memory. My sis and I would only see our half sister very few times before my Dad was on the road again.

 

Years would continue to pass and I would continue to dream of him coming home. The wonderful age of fourteen arrived and although I was hurt and angry by his actions, I still found a way to idolize the Dad I felt he was capable of being. I was growing a wild streak ten miles long with Ronald Lee Allen written all over it. This would mean I left my home and my loving and caring Mom to runaway to Dads. Yes, some saw him as a drunken bar fly, flying by the seat of his pants but creating laughter you could hear in the next town. At fourteen, I hung tight with him at every local beer joint in town. This would not be the first time I had been his side-kick in the bars. I can remember one of my first bar visits where I thought I was the shit at a very young age. He would load the old arcade bowling pin game with quarters and sit me on top of a bar stool that I was barely old enough to climb on to. I’d bowl while he would drink. Later we would leave the beer joint to stop at a store with a hidden liquor bar in the back. By this time he was pretty tanked. How do I know this? When you are sitting in the passenger seat while Dad has gone into the bar but you are rolling down the street in reverse, I think it’s okay to assume. No worries, I had twenty men chasing after me. Geesh that doesn’t sound all bad if it were happening today.Ronald Lee Allen NC

 

Dad would eventually buy me my first beer and said, “First, it will be beer and before long you will be wanting one of those fruity girl drinks, next you may want a Jack and Coke and then here is where it gets messy, you may want a Jack on the Rocks and next you wake up drinking Jack right out of the bottle and then like me, you have a problem.” I would walk back and forth to wait for my Dad to fall asleep with a cigarette in his hand that I would try and get before it burned him. Mornings I would watch him throw back half a pint before getting to the kitchen from the bedroom. There he’d break two eggs into a glass and drink it raw in a couple of gulps, Yuk.

 

At fourteen, it was fun to be out all hours of the night but before long I would learn lessons that would carry throughout my life. I began to see how my Dad and his friends would hide the pain and heartaches of life through alcohol. They each were dealing with a particular pain that I would lie awake eavesdropping on their conversations. I was in situations at fourteen that the “perfect” Dad would never put his child in. My Dad would come in occasionally too drunk to even know who I was. It would take years for me to realize the lessons which humbled me and showed me how easily life could spiral out of control when pain is not dealt with. Eventually, I witnessed local law enforcement busting in and arresting Dad and his friends. My heart hurt and the internal sore was spreading with pain and anger, not to mention that brick wall I was learning to build for each time he left me hanging.

 

Back home with Mom and Step-Dad, my life carried on and I would rarely hear from Dad. Many days in those high school years where the days would pass and I would have heard absolutely nothing during a class for wondering where he was and if he were okay. The day came and I recall it well when I sealed the deal with Dad when I asked my step-dad to give me away. He was so angry and told others I was no longer his daughter. I blocked this creating more expansion of the internal sore.

Before long my Dad was back in prison and dreams had me wanting to see him. I loved him and I didn’t care what he had done. I knew by now that alcohol was an addiction. An addiction is to cover up pain with a fake smile that so many of us do not even realize or accept we are doing. Many times we do not even know what that pain is until self-recovery and journaling begins. My heart died a thousand times in one day when I was unable to see him, my name was not listed with my other two sisters on the guest list where he was in prison. That empty broken hearted gut feeling was taking me down and the internal sore was now growing larger, with pain, anger, and hatred.

 

Life continued on and one day I returned from lunch to my then job with Belk at that time to find out a man had been by that called himself my Dad. My co-workers were unaware and were concerned as to who he was. I felt as if I had won the lottery and without a doubt, I knew he was now the “perfect” Dad. He was out of prison, which means he had not been able to drink and he was wanting to make right but mostly to be a part of my life. My positive mindset and my rose colored glasses were sure he was no longer drinking. I would finally have that moment I had always dreamed about. After hunting him down, I finally got him on the phone, he said: “yeah, I went to the store to see you, can you get me a discount on some pants”. My husband was trying to tell me as I was talking through the anger and tears that I needed to see him anyway. Hesitantly, I set up a time for my husband and me to spend the evening visiting my Dad.

 

Standing at the door of a large historic home in downtown Benson, NC was my first experience of knowing anything about a Halfway House. We knock at his room, he yells, come on in. I immediately sat down on his lap at age twenty-one. I hug all over him but within minutes, he would say let me up. He opened the closet to grab the fifth of Vodka and pour him a glass and offer us one as well. He laughed and said, can’t really smell this kind. What a charmer he must be for others to not realize he was still drinking and from here I do not recall anymore of the visit.  I continued to judge who he was and how he was not the “perfect” Dad. That internal sore was now enlarging with pain, anger, hatred, and judgment.

 

 

Its My Journey
#ITSMYJOURNEY TOTE

Later he would move to Smithfield, NC and I would pass him a couple of times on his moped since we lived in the same town. His family informed me he had been in the hospital and his doctors told him he would die if he did not stop drinking. He told the doctor he would die happy then, because as long as he was drunk, he was happy. What is so wrong with dying happy? Why didn’t I understand? The internal sore grew larger, pain, hatred, anger, judgment, and now denial. I did not yet have the wisdom to truly understand addiction and living with pain of a past.

 

My daughter was only a few months old when my husband had to go out of town on business. He asked me to go with him and although it took days of me talking myself through leaving our daughter with her wonderful Grandmom, I got excited and said yes.

 

Sitting in the car while my husband checks us in at the hotel. He is walking back to the car, head hung down, my heart sank. I knew something was wrong. I knew it wasn’t my daughter and therefore it had to be my Dad. My husband says we will leave and head back home. I went ape shit. I did not want to leave and was refusing to go to the funeral. My husband played it off and went to his first meeting. Sneaky ass knew how to handle me by giving me time to digest what had happened. He was accustom to how I dealt with hurt or lack thereof. I can recall every detail in the hotel room to this day, colors, draperies, sink, soap, the shampoo, carpet but I could not cry. My Dad died alone lying in blood from alcoholism at age forty-two and I can not cry. How could he die never telling me, I love you? Being a new mother, I could not understand how any parent could do this. How could he leave before he proved he could be the “perfect” Dad? How could I let him die alone feeling unloved due to my judgment? That internal sore was overtaking the inside of my body with pain, hatred, anger, judgment, denial and now guilt.

 

How clueless I was to how harmful this internal sore could be going forward in life. Within a couple of years, I would also attend the funeral of my husband.  It wouldn’t be long before I had built a wall that not even King Kong could tear down but I still loved life and I still knew how to smile.

 

When you hear for so long you have to be strong, you eventually awaken one day with a smile, strength, and determination to move forward. I had managed to lock away that internal sore in a closet that I had never planned to re-open.

 

SEVERAL STYLES AND COLORS TO CHOOSE FROM

I believe our higher self has a way of pushing us where we need to go and to see what we need to see and of course to meet who we need to meet. For years, I would have very vivid dreams about my husband since he had died but never my Dad. Awakened in tears one morning, I had seen my Dad sitting on a paint can in the middle of a freshly plowed field in my dream. I could smell the dirt and the white paint. He was extending his arms as I walked closer, he asked me to please forgive him. I couldn’t, I turned my back and walked away. Why had I behaved this way in my dream? How could I be so uncaring? He had painted in his last years on earth.  Now I understand the ads that read, Painters needed, no license required.

 

One day I would be drawn to meet with a Medium about my husband again. Knowing nothing about my Dad she kept saying this is a father figure coming through, not a lover or partner. He is sitting on what looks like a paint can in the middle of a freshly plowed field asking your forgiveness. This was the beginning of what would take several more years to understand and forgive us both.

 

I do not know much about my Dad’s childhood. I was told that he made comments about sleeping on the tractor in a field drunk at an early age. I know his Dad was an alcoholic and the childhood was not easy. We do what we know.  We teach how we learn. It takes dedication and meditation (videos I use) to reprogram ourself to what is truly authentic. Without dedication and meditation, people end up on medication.  That will put a temporary band-aid on the pain.  This will be followed with drug after drug and diagnoses after diagnoses.

 

My Mom had told me time and time again, my Dad was a good man but alcohol stole him at a young age. She would tell me he was way before his time. He loved cars and he made his seats move and recline before cars were ever sold with that feature. He also put motors on bicycles for the lazy bike riders.

 

Unfortunately, I wasn’t ready to forgive him completely but at least the process had begun. There were too many past memories surfacing that I was unable to not judge. How could my Mom forgive him and I couldn’t? I applaud her for her forgiveness and seeing his good. Through dreams, mediums, meditation, my first memory in life came through of him threatening to kill my mom. A good man is not a jealous man that hits or threatens to hit a woman. How was I to be okay with this? This is not okay. This shut the forgiveness back down and years would pass. He was not his authentic self with the alcohol but this was too difficult to grasp.

I would be drawn to a Medium again for other reasons but yet again my Dad appeared. Again he asks for my forgiveness. He told me how proud he was of my accomplishments and named them one by one. He went on to tell me what he did in the dimension he was currently in and how he liked it there. SO CONFUSING… He said, he never wanted to come back to earth. Said he never liked being human (well what do you want to be thoughts going through my head) that is was too difficult and he loved what he was doing now. I’m helping others transition as they leave earth, I think you would be proud, he said. Please talk to me, it helps both of us. He says you bought an older home to remodel, let me help you. STOP RIGHT THERE! Don’t worry I was rolling my eyes too with the exception I was also in fetal position since I was overwhelmed from the purchase of a BIG DIY project and my dad knew about it. All I could think is, Dad I forgive you.

 

BREAK NEEDED, This is why journaling is very important. You can see all the therapists, coaches, counselors, psychiatrist, psychics, mediums, and rehabs but unless you realize something on your own it will never have the same effect. When you journal, you release and you are forced to get out of your head and into your heart since you aren’t trying to convince anyone of anything, just you, your pen and paper. In the moment of writing the paragraph above, I got goose bumps yay high. When I recalled the Medium telling me my dad was saying let me help you with the house, tell me you need help and I will help you. I never realized until that moment that my Dad did help and here is how…

 

The last Medium was in 2009, I was in a relationship that was going back and forth with both of us wasting time. I had purchased the home and he would never come to my home. I was always going to his and I was angry because he never offered to help. My cousin was helping a few hours each day and everything else I was doing from the time I got off of work until 1:00-3:00 in the morning. My relationship was in shambles and the reason I chose the WOO WOO and go to the medium in the first place. I left there not knowing what to do about the relationship but lots to think about. Within a couple of weeks, I was sitting on the floor by a damn spilled paint can and Dad came to mind. I was tired, irritable, and my home was a DIY disaster. I was a financial advisor with long hours so how will I ever complete all this? I curled up in bed with my faithful fur babies and I remembered my Dad saying let me help. Skeptic as I was, I broke down pleading and asking my Dad for help. Until this moment, I never realized what took place. My relationship did a u-turn, my significant other came there at least every other weekend and worked to help all the projects reach completion. Our relationship had an unfortunate ending but I feel relief in that relationship wasn’t intended to be a forever. Until now, I’ve often wondered why this relationship took six years of my life since everyone we meet plays a part in our story. Could this really be? Did my Dad have anything to do with this? Fortunately, I am no longer a skeptic and I know he helped and if I am writing this, I can assure you I don’t care what anyone else may think about it.

 

Another life lesson. We often ask for help or pray with a picture in mind of how an answered prayer will look. We ignore and never recall our prayers being answered due to it wasn’t the way we perceived it. All this time I thought my Dad never heard me.

 

Through the journaling and the blogging you can not even imagine the forgiveness I feel and the weight that has been lifted. The only way anyone can know this feeling is to have it happen. I’ve been through years of journaling, coaching and even obtaining my own life coach certification and this is what it’s all about. If you’ve never journaled or seen a Life Coach, I challenge you to try it.




One of my main purposes in writing and sharing this post was for my half sister that I recently located through social media. We’ve only communicated through social media but are planning to meet very soon. (Update, we have since met up) I knew Dad was hard at work again in that other dimension when my newly found sister said, “What is very hard for me is that you knew him…I don’t know anything about him.” So many years I focused on the bad memories. Now I realize the laughter he brought to my life, my sisters, my woo woo craziness, creativity, and that he was in my life for many more reasons than just a “perfect” Dad.

My daughter had not even turned three when her dad was killed but she does have a few memories. Both of these fathers never lacked jokes, and loved making others laugh. Every child deserves to know a Dad may not have been what was expected but he was there for good reasons.

 

Dear Younger SisterS,

Above you have read some of the not so great stories about our Dad but there are unique and good stories as well. The most important one is I have zero doubt OUR Dad has been hard at work reuniting his three daughters. I do not know what tomorrow brings but I do want you to know we look forward to seeing you again after so many years. I am excited to meet my brother-n-law and almost grown nephew.

I wish I had more memories but here are some I remember:

  • Our Dad was the life of any party.
  • Our Dad would go out of his way to help others when they were in need.
  • Our Dad, be it good or bad could charm any female anytime and anywhere. He loved them all, God Bless the Flirt.
  • Our Dad loved the water and the sunshine.
  • Our Dad loved beer and his favorite was Budweiser.
  • Our Dad loved Honky Tonks because he said the people there can’t judge or they wouldn’t be there.
  • Our Dad had the cleanest car around while he had a car. (Your other sister got that! Mine looks like I live out of it.)
  • Our Dad could handle and drive a car like Richard Petty, he made a few crap their pants.
  • Our Dad wanted to enjoy life without being told how he had to do it. In fact, I’m pretty sure he didn’t like being told what to do period. I got all 100% of that.
  • Our Dad was stubborn from what I recall, I feel sure this was split three ways.
  • Our Dad was creative and would give MacGyver a run for his money.
  • Our Dad could make you think you were living with Donald Duck. I remember him working on a car, which he loved to do, I was sitting on top of the car begging him to Donald Duck talk. I laughed until I was crying.
  • Not only do we look like sisters, we inherited some funnies from Dad. How many adult females have videos and pictures of recent handstands? I am not sure I have the nerve to share the videos and photos yet. Our Dad loved doing handstands with or without a wall.
  • I have to add this, he loved FARTING, he would pretend it would be floating around the room and it would land on you and eventually he’d do a big gulp as if he swallowed it.  Crazy ass man!

 

So here is to all the girls that lived or are living life without having a Dad present. Like me, you may think it hasn’t affected you. Maybe you are a lucky one, but for most it does affect in one way or another. It could be an addiction of anything, depression, anxiety, broken relationships, etc. My best advice would be to write. Next advice would be to contact a Life Coach who has the experience in the area you feel is holding you back.  Most of all do not hold anger and sadness within.  That only hurts you and your health.  Write, talk, release, and be free. Again LIVE IT, WRITE IT, LOVE IT, SHARE IT!

One last thought, your faith is what feels right to you but do not be quick to think those that have left us are no longer with us. My Dad and my husband have been more than “perfect” in helping me to understand that life does not end because the body dies.

Happy Father’s Day

 

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2 Comments on “THE PERFECT DAD THAT WAS EVERYTHING BUT PERFECT

  1. Sissy
    Im so proud of you for putting all this into words and getting it out there to hopefully help others.
    ❤️you!!

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