Father's Day, Indecision, And The Curse Of Hope

I wanted to write some stuff on Father's Day, but life intervened. I know it's a few days later, but it's not too late to say that I hate Father's Day.

I've never gotten along with my dad, but the last few years have been worse than usual, and I've had enough of him. People asked me what I planned to do for him on the big day, and most were surprised and dismayed when I replied, "nothing". I have better things to do with my time than interact with my dad, so I didn't even call him. That's not what makes me depressed. What saddens me is the people I know who get along with their fathers. I get jealous and depressed when friends talk about spending time with their dads. I wonder what it's like to have a dad who isn't selfish, verbally abusive and actually wants to be around his offspring.

I also feel uncomfortable on Father's Day, getting a gift and a card from my daughter. She made a really nice card this year, made out to "the world's greatest dad". I am not comfortable with that description. I know, I know, I'm the best in her eyes, but I cannot help but feel that I am unworthy of such praise. She's a smart girl, and one of these days, she's going to figure out that I am not really the greatest. It saddens me. I do the best I can, but I worry, constantly, that it's not good enough.

My indecision depresses me, too. When faced with a choice or an opportunity, I rarely make up my mind until I am forced to. I have an opportunity to purchase one of three different crappy used cars, and I've spent weeks humming and hawing and consulting friends, and I still cannot make up my mind. It's fear, of course. I'm always afraid that whatever decision I make will be the wrong one. That applies to every decision I make, whether it be about jobs, relationships, or even something simple like shopping for clothes (which I hate). In this case, I do have a good reason to be hesitant - the last three choices I made concerning cars were all bad ones. One car was a money pit, and the other two had their engines blow up. So I worry that whatever car I end up buying will explode, spewing fluids all over the road. But my inability to decide depresses me.

I wish I could be more cynical. I wish that I were truly without hope, that I could simply accept that nothing I do will turn out right. But faced with unexpected opportunities, I find myself full of hope that maybe this time, things will turn out right. Sometimes they do, but usually, they don't, and I end up hating myself for getting my hopes up again, only to see them dashed. Sometimes, I think hope is a curse.

Of course, I have been truly hopeless before, and it led to crushing despair and thoughts of suicide. I don't want to go down that road again, so it's possible hope is not a bad thing. I struggle to do the Zen thing and accept things as they are, but it's hard, struggling against my dark, dark heart. It's hard.