Of A Guilty Conscience and Bitches

I wrote this post after a particularly gruelling week at work. I had had a series of one-to-one sessions with my colleagues in my capacity as Madam HR. As HR, I often hear challenging stories, and sometimes, they can stir up my own buried feelings. So as I sat at home pouting and questioning my life choices, and wondering if I am an antisocial extrovert, I started thinking about my relationship with my father and how that has gone up in ashes, spectacularly.

So here I was at home, in front of my TV, listening to Knox Hill breaking down lyrics to Kendrick Lamar's Euphoria, because some of those lyrics went over my head (with me not being an American and all) I needed the extra help from a Youtuber explaining the quadruple entendre in Kendrick's lyrics because while I love a good fight, it sucks not getting the references in the music and I like being a well-informed hater. I digress.

Thinking about my father led me to re-evaluate my life, as a recent 28-year-old, seated at home, very much on track for things I've wanted to do, surrounded by things I had worked very hard for, which I thought would make me happy or at least content, like a very beautiful painting from Kimetsu no Yaiba aka Demon Slayer, that faces my sofa, and that had cost me a pretty penny ( I still flinch when I think of how much money I spent on it) and a very fluffy pink bathrobe that always puts me in a good mood, I could no longer ignore the ache in my heart, and a throbbing emptiness that comes from a devastated, possibly obliterated, bond with my father.

So, a bit of a background. Sometime over the last 18 months, I had a very ugly fight with my father. That fight was a culmination of decades of unexpressed feelings and frustrations, things like longing for parental approval even while loathing myself for wanting Daddy's approval and love. Wanting to have my life choices given the green light by my daddy even while knowing deep down that it's never coming, then going to bitch-slap myself for being such a little girl. For a while there I think I had successfully (not) managed to lie to myself that I was OK, that I was an independent girl, that I did not need my daddy to be happy with me, or proud of me, and that I could carry on the rest of my life without even talking to him. Boy, do I have news for you.

It is very difficult to lie to oneself, as I have found out. So as I listened to Kendrick Lamar calling Drake a certified paedophile, I went over some out-of-character things I have been doing to make myself feel better.

I have tried everything to get over the level of disappointment I feel in myself for not being a stone-cold child, for still having all these icky feelings and still needing my daddy even at my ripe old age of 28 (can I say my 28th birthday was absolute hell, I am NOT having a great time growing old) I have gotten into KPop (hey Stray Kids), went back to drinking, got a tattoo, started dating a guy significantly younger than me and even became spontaneously orgasmic, yay, but none of that has quieted this ache in me to get things right.

So, what exactly did I do that has put a burr in my ass about my daddy issues? You see, I am a decent writer, and when I am particularly inspired, say by anger or years of resentment, I can be considered an excellent writer. I focused all this considerable skill and wrote a very nasty message to my parent, and (un)knowingly let the will of anger and bitterness inside me spill over, and I need to figure out how to make it right.

I am very proud and stubborn and can hold grudges like you've never seen, so while I feel bad about going thermonuclear about two years ago, I still can't bring myself to apologise, even when I feel like I have been living in someone else's skin for a while now. So it's a damned if I do and damned if I don't situation for me.

I titled this post "of a guilty conscience and bitches" because my inner conscience is a bitch named Delilah and she never shuts TF up. She keeps me up at night, reminding me, in her posh English accent, of all the things I am running away from, except for when she says I did a good job over the last couple of weeks being a keyboard warrior and reporting all of President Ruto's tweets #RutoMustGo. That aside, I hope I can get the courage I need to make the situation right before I or he, passes on.

Anyway, here is a photo of Giyu Tomioka to brighten up your day.