Make an act of contrition

More pondering, rather than pandering. I may have missed something along the line. A number of times I’ve been called priest or pope not that have lived a priestly life or even what one would call a pious life. Some would argue that the virtues associated with those names were as far removed from me as Pluto (not the dog) is from the Sun.

However, one virtue if you want to call it that is I listen well. I don’t always offer advice or the best when given, I don’t judge the person who is telling me things or I try not to show it, and I think most importantly I don’t tell people’s secrets. If they tell me something I keep it too myself. If I see something I keep it too myself. If I just know something that would be not my right to share I keep it too myself.

As a result of this people will tell me, the most damaging, the most embarrassing, really horrible things about other people, the most bizarre things about themselves. Things people would take to their grave stuff too.

I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone truly fill that bill for me even though I did have a confessor at one point. Someone I felt I could tell anything too and did. They know things about me that I didn’t tell other people but they did tell some things.

I seem to take on that role with many people and haven’t ever realized that I have filled that purpose of confessor. I have even kept things to myself that could have altered my life at times. There was one time I did not keep that role about something and in retrospect probably should have because the truth didn’t serve any purpose but at the time I felt that the person did need to know.

I have already written about it so it’s not like I’m letting anything new out of the bag. Doodle and CPG had a huge fight once, which led to doodle living with me and she hasn’t lived with CPG other than a few weeks since then for 4 years. CPG was drunk screaming and threw doodle out of the house. CPG told doodle, I wish you had never been born; you have f---‘ed up my life, I should have kept the appointment to have you aborted instead of letting your f---ing dad talk me out of it.

Well Doodle asked me if that was true. It wasn’t in the middle of the fight I wasn’t there when that happened. I was called while I was out with friends by my daughter saying her mother had thrown her out of the house. I tried to call CPG to see if this was Doodle playing me against her mother. She didn’t answer the phone. I pull up to CPG’s house and Doodle is there on the porch things in hand and the door is locked and she isn’t answering her phone or the door.

I took doodle home, got her settled and then we talked about it when she was ready a few days later. CPG didn’t attempt to talk to Doodle for over a week. No calls to her or asking for her.

She called me once asked where she was I said at my house. And she told me to f off and hung up when I asked what was going on. Anyway I did tell her that her mom had scheduled an abortion and we did talk about was this the right thing to do or not. Doodle asked me what my first thoughts were when I found out about CPG being pregnant. Honestly I was ready to be a father in that moment. However to be completely honest if you had asked me a day before I would have said no I’m not ready, if you had asked me the minute before I knew CPG was pregnant I would have probably said no I don’t want to be a parent. And I would have said schedule the appointment. I didn’t say that though I said lets keep it and I did say it. I’m not going to try to color my role to be perfect. I also said every parent has times when they wonder what my life would be like had I made different choices. I haven’t regretted making the choice to be a parent even now when my daughter won’t speak to me or return calls or letters.

So I answered a question honestly I answered it honestly including my own role in it and my own doubts about parenting. I could have left out things about myself or painted things about CPG to make her seem worse in the situation. I tried to soften the words that I know hurt doodle deeply and they can’t be taken back. I grew up with a lot of the same words, stupid, worthless, pathetic, piece of sh-t and more.

I’ve tried to understand were it all comes from to soften it. Many times the truth is ugly and hurtful and it isn’t what people want to know. But sometimes to survive you have to find someone to tell these things too or it will eat you up inside. If my role of confessor for those who do tell me things helps them I’m glad to be there

Now to figure out my own things.

Have a great day and play nice in the neighborhood.

Ciao,