validate me

my father has been my official unit of measurement for as long as i can remember.

every person i have dated has been subjected to my constant comparisons to dad: how are you like him? do you disagree with his beliefs? would he approve of you? would he even like you? would he think i could do better? would he think i was lucky to find anyone at all?

every job i've held has been carefully polished and presented to him in hope of hearing him praise my work, my progress, my ability, my title. me. he places a high value on education and determination, so i earned degrees and awards and went after positions that would impress him.

"what would dad think" has been an often whispered though when i was faced with a decision. too often, "oh god, what is dad going to think?" rang through my head in panic.

he has always been my yardstick, used to determine the value and merit of everything from potential dates to job choices to hair color. he was the closest thing i knew to god as a child.

i know his faults, i know his shortcomings. i know he has done awful things and that he is not my god anymore. he should not be my image of perfection, but i still see him through my little girl glasses, perfect, strong and safe. i want him to be that way. i want him to be my perfect, approving father and i keep reaching for that, even though i should know better by now.

i've screwed up most everything i've touched in my life. i have very little to show for 34 years of living. i started to turn that around a couple of years ago, pulling my shit together on all fronts. i asked for help, i got back on my feet, i took responsibility for my history. i made changes. i'm still making changes.

i live on my own. i have a great job where i am happy and respected. i'm in love with a wonderful man who knows my darkness and isn't afraid it in me. while it would be nice to hear my dad tell me that he's proud, it should not matter so damn much to me that he doesn't. or that he isn't.

but it does.

what doesn't matter is that he means well when he tells me that he has absolutely zero faith in my ability to maintain a relationship, that he means well in saying that i would be stupid to move across the country and start over professionally so that i can be with someone i love. his meaning well doesn't matter when he tells me that he is disappointed to see me "throw away" what i've worked for, just when he thought i was "finally getting it together." or that i should wait for at least ten years before i consider marrying c., "given my history" in relationships.

fuck meaning well. it hurt.

and i'm angry. at him, for not understanding; and with myself, for letting his opinion make me feel like a scolded child. i'm angry that i still need his validation and that i don't know how to let go that need.

i'm angry that i had to grow up and learn that my yardstick isn't nearly as tall as i thought he was.

dead end

is it possible to come to a rational, non-biased understanding that one's life is without value or meaning? to evaluate in some quantitative & qualitative fashion the merit of your own existence?

that thought has been following me around and annoying me all week. it's such a dawson's creek question that i want to slap myself for thinking it. (actually, the fact that i can reference dawson's creek makes me want to slap me - and may be proof that my life is meaningless.)

i'm not feeling suicidal, i'm not in a particularly blue place emotionally. i just can't see any valid point to what i'm doing or who i am. i don't know that i add anything valuable or interesting to the world. heck, i don't think i add anything valuable or interesting to MY world, let alone THE world. i go to work, i come home. i run occasionally, go to the gym when i start feeling sluggish and sloppy. i read and watch trash television. i visit my folks and my boyfriend. i have dinner with friends once in a while. i piss off people.

i question things - often, but rarely do anything about the unsatisfying answers i find.

i have a job that's not exactly a career, but it makes me happy. i do it well, solve some problems, feel validated and leave it at the office. it's not going to change the world or impress anyone.

i have a relationship that is nice. nice. it's long-distance, so i have plenty of "space." we see each other once every 3-4 weeks, and at holidays. we have 4.5 weeks together at christmas, which is great and difficult. it's hard to get into a comfortable groove when you are together-apart-together-apart, and when you have your own (physical) space situated according to your needs then disrupted by someones presence.
even when you want that presence.
it causes tension and arguments, and i don't handle either well.

i have a few close friends, good people with interesting and important or meaningful lives with spouses and/or kids and Careers and missions and activities. often, these friendships are kept up via email, text message and the occasional phone call.

i used to think i would be someone amazing and interesting, someone people noticed, for the right reasons. i thought i would be intelligent and creative and feel purpose and fulfillment. i also thought i would understand love and have a family and close circle of friends, like i saw (see) on tv and in movies. yes, i believed that hype.

maybe that's the problem: i believed what i saw and what i read. i believed that 30-somethings hung out in funky coffee shops with witty friends, that ms. or mr. right would really understand me and love away my hurt spots, that painful or upsetting events would reveal deeper truths or greater meanings.

i believed in happy endings, when really, the only ending is death, and how happy is that?
i believed in meaning, and haven't found any.