Hello strangers. I am here today, typing this out on my phone, because I tend to let things sit and stew inside of my head for a very long time. I don’t mind, as time allows me many perspectives on my memories and feelings. However, lately I’ve been rolling around a phrase that bothers me.

“You have baggage. You need to let go of that baggage and look toward the future.”

This statement bothers me. It is usually said to me after I have discussed my father. The first time I remember being told this, I was attending my Aunt’s wake. She was my father’s sister-in-law. Among the members of my nuclear family, I was the only one to attend my Aunt’s wake.

I stuck around longer than I intended. I don’t remember what I did, though I do remember my cousin’s children showing off their toys. Then it was only me and my Uncle. My father’s brother.

We talked for a while. I opened up about my feelings toward my dad. He listened. And then he told me that I was carrying around a lot of baggage, and that I needed to let it go.

Part of me understands. I have emotional scars. Part of me is offended, as it’s always a relief to tell someone how I feel about Dad. It’s a relief to share the horrors, surprises, and disappointments. It’s freeing.

I tucked my Uncle’s comment away. Sure, I’ve got awful memories and feelings when I think about my father. They’re all strange and unreal memories. I’m sure if I spoke with my Dad about them, he’d deny their happening. It’s his way.

My Mom doesn’t want to talk about it. She’s an alcoholic, barely 100 pounds in weight right now. I’m not sure she’ll live for another few years. She’s barely living now.

Talking with her about this hurts her. She feels as though she failed my brother and I. I can’t hurt her. I don’t ever want to. I can’t bring this stuff up with her without causing her pain.

My brother doesn’t really communicate well with me. He’s become unemotional about the things that happened in our childhood. He’d rather not think about it.

But I’m 28. This an age at which many young women get married. A few of my peers have children. I don’t. I’m scared of the idea of it. How could I raise a child? My own childhood was corrupted. I’m scared of nakedness. I’m scared of children.

I digress.

Today I spoke briefly about a memory I have of my father. This memory disturbs me. It helps me to remember why I stay far away from that man.

My boyfriend was quick to change the subject, and he recommended I look forward to the future.

He’s sweet. But it’s not what I need to hear. The awkwardness that my closest friends and family express when I open up about this is painful. You can their eyes fart around, almost as if you can their thoughts searching for something distracting. These people love me, but they don’t want to hear about the worst, most painful experiences, and that hurts. These things happened. My father can deny whatever he likes. But when my loved ones listen and then recommend talking about something else, I’m not sure how to feel.

I’d like to confront my Dad. I’d like to do it in person, even though the idea of it makes me feel like crying, shaking, and wetting my pants. Maybe I do have baggage that needs to be flung overboard. But maybe it’s ok to talk about these things and not get shut down.

I’m not sure.

Any advice, kind strangers?