Ode to Dad

[me and dad at rehoboth beach circa 2008]

(first, let's take a moment for an Ode to Christin because I SCHEDULED A POST FOR SUNDAY! whoopee!)

But now to business (it's going to get personal on here, that okay people?). My Dad called me out. Laid out the past five months of my life in plain view so I could actually see what's be en going on. And you know what? He told me I'm doing a great job at pretending I'm happy most of the time, and he was so sincere about it it brought tears to eyes (just like it is right now). But he also told me he knows the truth. He knows how sad and broken and lost I am. But he also knows that I will be happy again.

 Sometimes you just need someone to state the obvious (especially when it's your father, you seem get more clarity.)

My instructions? Let go. Close the door. Move on. Since my Dad can read my mind, he did address that I'm doing a great job trying, but I'm trying not doing - my little toe is keeping that door open, just in case. Just in case you love me and realize what a terrible mistake you've made and you come galloping in...wait, wait, that's the fairytale version.

I live in reality (at least I try to). And I don't need saving.

I spend so much of my time trying to do and live the three above-mentioned items that it feels as though I should be riding off into the sunset right now of self-actualization. But the truth is it's like trying to move a 1960's metal desk up three flights of stairs in a Victorian during the summer . SLOW GOING. The panic set in when I realized I thought I was being my authentic self these past few months when really I'm pretty much a mess just muddling through one day to the next.

Well, you know what, right now that is my authentic self. And I'm going to love it anyway. Because everyday you get up and do it. Do your best for yourself. You know what that self did Thursday? She got her ass out of bed at 5:45 to take a spin class. Got home and made a delicious breakfast in her adorable apartment - showered, washed, dried AND styled her hair - put on a cute outfit - and for two hours today she felt like she really had her shit together.

And for two hours she did.

And maybe that's okay. Maybe it's okay to make that the standard. To be okay with yourself in your skin for as long of an interval as you can. Because you know what? My Dad is okay with it. He loves me anyway. He helps his 28-year-old-trying-to-figure-it-out-and-wear-cute-clothes-at-the-same-time-and-eat-organic-food-and-save-the-world-daughter buy a car because basically if she does it on her own, she'll be broke. But he helps her find a way. A way to do it, without doing it all for her. Giving her the best gift ever: independence. He helps. He always helps, no matter what, in any way he can to make my life sweeter and easier (even when I don't deserve it).

He still comes to my races, even though he thinks I'm bonkers for running that many miles. He's never missed a game, concert, recital, birthday or family vacation or any other occasion that I deem important. He has only ever asked that I do my best, always. He always reminds me to keep it simple and that life is good. He tells me to go for it when I'm not sure if I should take the trip or invest my whole heart. He still helps me sign the car papers and hand in the keys to the old jeep and wipes the tears from eyes, instead of laughing at my silly connection to this car, because it's like losing a best friend (oh, the irony). He teaches me to kind and generous and loving and open, no. matter. what. by leading by example.

So this is my ode to Dad, he simply is the best on earth and I would be lost in the woods without him (but probably not because he bought me a new headlamp for Christmas and a RoadID bracelet for my birthday). And of course I don't acknowledge this nearly as much as I should (and he will never read this post). So his father's day present this year (along with some vegan turnovers from Fields and French Hens) is my resolution to let him know how much he rocks as often as possible. I spend a lot of time doing that for other people, when at the end of the day my Dad is the one who deserves it the most, and is always there, forever and always.

Oh, and to keep trying to be more like him. That's another resolution.

So thanks Dad, for seriously, everything.

xx
christin