oshea-meg

[oshea-meg]

Let’s battle these demons

Damn I really didn’t want this to be my first post. What I really wanted to publish as my first post was something more meaningful, or inspirational, or one of my profoundly deep epiphany’s I’ve had about life. But I guess I’ll save those for later, because if there’s anything I’ve learned that I find to be 100% true, it’s that life never goes according to our own plan. So this is me, going with the flow, and dealing with what needs to be dealt with; the haunting of you.

And by you- I mean my father. Ah yes, Daniel Shawn O’Shea. Former lacrosse all star, business entrepreneur, loving husband and wonderful father are what many referred to him as while I was growing up. And for the longest time- 15 whole years actually, I bought into that lie too.

You were my knight in shining armor. My cheerleader. My coach. My #1 fan. But most of all, my best friend.

I remember the things we did together as early as 3 years old. How every single morning before you went off to work we ate special k cereal, and after mom had already left to take my siblings to school you would add sugar to both our bowls. Every day. Or when you came in to say goodnight and would stay up 15 minutes past my bed time to listen to what I did that day. Lmao imagine listening to a 6 year old explain their entire day to you... must’ve been really riveting stuff because you did it every single night. Or maybe you really did love me that much.

I remember you taking me to school every day when we lived in Charleston. The 45 minute drive to James Island filled with rock hits from the 80s and 90s. I loved those car rides.

I remember that you came up with the idea of taking me to Dunkin’ Donuts after church every Sunday when I started to dread going. And our Sundays filled with rooting on the Baltimore Ravens.

I remember you taking me to all my swim practices. And staying there for me when I had too much anxiety to be there on my own. Even if you had work to do, you would sit in the car in the parking lot and wait, just to give me the peace of mind you were there.

You were a great father, an amazing one even, until all of a sudden you weren’t anymore.

It still amazes me to this day how I had gone so long without knowing, or realizing, or seeing some sort of sign. Well, I guess I could’ve missed the signs. It happens, when you love someone.

It started when we moved to Florida. The silent treatment. If I couldn’t make it to swim practice because I had too much homework, or a test even, you wouldn’t speak to me the rest of the day. Or even eat dinner with mom and I.

Once mom left Florida I gave up swimming altogether, and that left us with having less in common. In an effort to bring that aspect of our relationship back, I took up lacrosse. Of course you loved that. You started taking me to practices again, games, even practicing wall ball with me outside of practice. It was good again. We hungout again, like we had before everything fell apart.

...Until I did something you didn’t want me to do. Like, visit mom for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Or FaceTime my sister. Or cancel our plans to go to your work dinner because I had too much homework.

I really don’t know why that dinner was so god damn important. But for whatever reason in your mind it was. Apparently, more important than taking care of your daughter.

I remember waiting for 3 hours after school for you to pick me up that day. Just like any other day. But you never came. Matthew had to come pick me up and take me home. And when he dropped me off, and I walked into the apartment you were already home. You had already made dinner, cleaned the dishes, and were in your room. No care in the world to what I was doing, your 15 year old daughter. The next day, I woke up to you already gone with a note that said “take the bus”. That was it. No “I love you”. No “I’m sorry”. Just: take the bus.

This pattern continued for two weeks, I’d wake up, and you were already gone. I’d get home, and you would already be in bed, wishing to remain unbothered by me. I don’t remember how you started talking to me again, but eventually you did. But then I’d do something else you didn’t like and it would be more of the same... more of the same god damn silence.

Then, after visiting mom for a summer in Texas, two whole months, I got off the plane and you picked me up. I remember being excited to see you, for once in a really long time. You greeted me with a giant hug, and I remember thinking in that moment maybe you just needed to miss me for a summer to want to try harder. To be the old dad you were again. And then... you said you had news to share. You sat me down at the airport chick fil a, and shared that over the past two months you got a job in Miami and had already moved there. My whole fucking life, moved, without me even knowing it. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how I felt in that moment. To say my world collapsed was an understatement. You wanted me to be okay with moving to Miami with you? Without even asking me first? Miami? Where your depressed and suicidal daughter had absolutely 0 friends, let alone friends that had been with me through the hell I had been living in. Who was going to be there for me when you weren’t speaking to me?

Well, by the grace of God I didn’t move to Miami with you. I moved in with my best friends family instead. And you let me. And I think that’s what you really wanted. It didn’t take more than 5 hours between the time of you picking me up from the airport and figuring out the logistics of me living with Kristin. I think you knew they would take me in, and now you were free of taking care of me.

That year was even more hellish than the years prior. You visited me once maybe every two months. Honestly I didn’t care if you hadn’t come to visit me at all. I dreaded your visits. The relationship we had wasn’t the one I knew growing up. It was calculated, convenient, controlling and filled with conditional love. On your conditions of course.

I remember my breaking point well. I had missed some 80+ school days at that point and knew I had to leave. I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning anymore. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t even hangout with my friends when they were over at the house. I called my mom, and she hopped on the next plane to Florida to come get me. I called the judge overseeing my custody case and cried to her on the phone saying I had to leave and go to Texas. I needed a family again. I needed to be taken care of.

I remember the text I sent to you after you ignored my calls. I told you that I was sorry. I was the one to apologize. I told you I still wanted to have a relationship with you and that I could visit on school breaks. I told you thank you for all you had done for me. And I told you that I loved you. But then, I told you that you hurt me. You hurt me when you wouldn’t speak to me, and you hurt me when you left me with another family to take care of me. Out of everything I had done that you didn’t like, this must’ve been the thing you disliked the most. Because just like that, you left me on read. On. Fucking. Read.

You know that really cliche saying, “silence speaks louder than words”? If there’s any second thing I know to be 100% true, it is that saying. And my dad taught me that. In a heartbeat I would rather take a screaming fight, a long conversation, an uncomfortable confrontation, over the silent treatment. Over not knowing, or understanding what is wrong.

See silence might be louder, but words have a definitive meaning. Words have the power to express what went wrong, what went right, how a person feels or thinks. Silence does none of that. It creeps, stirs, and provokes one sided thoughts of doubt, confusion, and anger. It leaves one person thinking, “what did I do?”

And that’s what I’ve thought for the past 7 years since you left my text on read. Seven years of silence. I’ve had the same number, same email. Same Facebook, same Instagram. You could’ve reached out to me. But you haven’t. And you won’t. Because I’m in the past. And why? What did I do as your daughter that was so terrible you couldn’t even respond to my text that day? Or any of the 2,000+ days that have passed since then?

For the longest time I didn’t realize the impact this had on me and my relationships, until the past few years. When I began to experience silence again. When I began to become vulnerable with people, and create intimate relationships, which resulted in silence.

Thus begins Chapter One of Meg’s journey to freedom: living in the silence

Tbc