Wednesday, May 25, 2022

Postcard #226: The Book of...

My therapist gave me homework. Which at the time of writing this postcard is due tomorrow. I do not think I'm going to complete this assignment which is essentially supposed to be me writing a letter to my father. I am supposed to put aside any voice I have to self-censor and write about what a terrible person he is/was... Everything that I can remember write it down. I cannot think of anything. My dad is a bit of a flake. But honestly, he is not a bad person, just a bit of a passenger to things. Lots of promises. Lots of straight to voicemails. Lots of sitting at dinner tables without the prep or clean up.

Sent to my good friend PR. I waffled about posting this.  I still am. I looked up the definition of flake just in case I was wrong.  I don't think my father was always a flake.  Time changes people.  Perhaps I can call him that because I can identify with it because I too am a bit of a flake. I also think I am giving myself too much credit.  No one reads this blog.  This is undeniably my fault since I never post and never really attempt any outreach.  Hmm.  Sounds a bit flaky if you ask me.  

I have since gone to that therapy session I mentioned without my homework in hand.  The therapist commented that I misunderstood the assignment anyway he had wanted me to essentially write an autobiography in a month.  Start from my earliest memory and walk back (forward?) to the present date.  Everything I can remember.  I look back on my life and I see a lot of fog.  I just can not remember anything.  Maybe I did just too good a job at compartmentalizing that I forgot where I left it?

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