I have found myself keeping busy, perhaps busier than I should, I need to keep my hands and mind busy, if I stop I might think and feel and right now I do not want to. If I do I feel my heart will break and shatter and I don't know if I can pick up those pieces, I don't even know if I can bear the loss again. It feels as if there is a heavy, sharp blade swinging over my head, looming until it is ready to take its fatal deadly swipe.
What has me all tightly twisted and unsettled. My father.
I have had many tumultuous thoughts and feelings when it comes to my father. We have had to learn to be father a daughter twice in my life. And now I can not feel him and I have not seen him, it is as if he has cut himself off from everyone and everything . I am not sure what to think of it, I see his wagons still there and his bosk but yet I do not see any sign of him or Chay. And I have gone by there several times hoping to catch him but it has been met with only emptiness.
I find myself on the verge of an emotional outburst that would allow a torrent of tears to flow but I fight it, I hold it back with an iron will, but I feel it churning and turning, seeking an outlet, so I do what I do best.
Work.
What is he doing and thinking. Will I see him again?
When I was seventeen and he sent me away with that ost Mirrah, I thought I had lost him forever, I even spoke of how I hated him, truly painful words for a parent to hear. But at that moment in time I felt it, he was forcing me from the plains and from the only family I had, him and my siblings. He changed my name and forced me to leave, it was like he reached in and ripped my heart out of my body and left only a wide gaping hole that bled profusely and caused such pain that it physically hurt. At that time I did not understand, this was a warrior that was my father, he raised me and taught me things, some things I am sure I am not even supposed to know or be able to do, but that is part of what makes me different, when you are raised by a man and have no mother you do not develop some of the cutesy ideals and feminine ways. I never learned the cutesy ideals or the word games or the games of manipulation that many women did, I call it as I see it and feel it, and I speak rather blunt and yes, even harsh, I know I can have an edge to me, but it is not all of me, there is much depth to me if anyone took the time to really look and see, I did however eventually learn many turnings later to be feminine. They even managed on an occasion to get me into a sari, a bit revealing, for it makes you look very delicate, not something I like. Father was not the type that you failed with, or said you could not do something, you did your best and you kept trying until you got it, he was harsh, hard but fair.
For many turnings I lived in many places and experienced many things, never knowing where he was I only knew he was alive, even when others said he wasn't, that he had died, I knew better, I felt he was alive, just as Dina did. We always searched for him and while we never felt him we never gave up. That was the first time I lost him, and then when he found me right after my relationship with Brutus was over, I had to learn how to deal with a man who felt he had the right to tell me what to do, now for a very long time I answered to no one but myself or who I happened to be mated to. So it was a struggle for me to suddenly have a father to deal with and it took a lot of work on both our parts but we managed to get back to that.
Until . . .
Until the day I ended up in a collar by one that had once claimed to love me, that was far more painful than the first loss, how do you explain how it feels to have your father look at you and tell you that he has no daughter, to see that pain and disappointment in his eyes. I knew he wanted to kill me and the only thing that stayed his hand after a while was that it was clear I did not have a slaves heart and truly I sucked at it because my heart was not in it, for it was not my path. It was not who or what I was. Though he came close several times to slitting my throat I can still feel that cold sharp blade at my throat, I did not beg him to spare me, in fact a part of me wanted him to kill me. But others interfered and my life was not taken. It took a few to keep Chay from killing me. I also lost my children and everything I was. A new name was given me one I will not repeat but I hate the term because of my association to it. And the brand, oh he had a way to remove that, it is a pain that I can honestly say makes childbirth feel like nothing. I still think he enjoyed inflicting it, just because of why it was there, fortunately there is no sign of that brand.
It took a long time after I was finally released and sent from the Island before my father and I were able to once more reconnect and establish a bond that has always been binding and tight when there. But now I do not feel it as strong it seems to be wavering and disappearing, fading in and out, like the waves of the thassa ebb and flow along the shores.
The pain that flows thru me is not something I can put words to. I want to crumble and break down, but I cannot, I want to throw things and hit things, but I don't. Instead I lose myself in my work for a few days to try and work thru it. Though it has not been successful. In the silence of my wagons I break and my furs are wet with the tears I shed,sometimes my body aches from the tension that I hold thru the night, the tension that keeps me from rushing out of my wagon in hysterics. Though wouldn't that be an image, I do not think I have ever indulged in hysteria.
It is my hope that whatever he is going thru he will work thru it and I will once more see him about, but I have this nagging feeling that it is going to take a while before that happens and yet another part of me feels it may not happen.
In the meantime.. I am simply left once more alone.
I hate being lonely.. I hate being alone..
Have I done something that the skies for the past two turnings have taken almost everything from me. ?
What has me all tightly twisted and unsettled. My father.
I have had many tumultuous thoughts and feelings when it comes to my father. We have had to learn to be father a daughter twice in my life. And now I can not feel him and I have not seen him, it is as if he has cut himself off from everyone and everything . I am not sure what to think of it, I see his wagons still there and his bosk but yet I do not see any sign of him or Chay. And I have gone by there several times hoping to catch him but it has been met with only emptiness.
I find myself on the verge of an emotional outburst that would allow a torrent of tears to flow but I fight it, I hold it back with an iron will, but I feel it churning and turning, seeking an outlet, so I do what I do best.
Work.
What is he doing and thinking. Will I see him again?
When I was seventeen and he sent me away with that ost Mirrah, I thought I had lost him forever, I even spoke of how I hated him, truly painful words for a parent to hear. But at that moment in time I felt it, he was forcing me from the plains and from the only family I had, him and my siblings. He changed my name and forced me to leave, it was like he reached in and ripped my heart out of my body and left only a wide gaping hole that bled profusely and caused such pain that it physically hurt. At that time I did not understand, this was a warrior that was my father, he raised me and taught me things, some things I am sure I am not even supposed to know or be able to do, but that is part of what makes me different, when you are raised by a man and have no mother you do not develop some of the cutesy ideals and feminine ways. I never learned the cutesy ideals or the word games or the games of manipulation that many women did, I call it as I see it and feel it, and I speak rather blunt and yes, even harsh, I know I can have an edge to me, but it is not all of me, there is much depth to me if anyone took the time to really look and see, I did however eventually learn many turnings later to be feminine. They even managed on an occasion to get me into a sari, a bit revealing, for it makes you look very delicate, not something I like. Father was not the type that you failed with, or said you could not do something, you did your best and you kept trying until you got it, he was harsh, hard but fair.
For many turnings I lived in many places and experienced many things, never knowing where he was I only knew he was alive, even when others said he wasn't, that he had died, I knew better, I felt he was alive, just as Dina did. We always searched for him and while we never felt him we never gave up. That was the first time I lost him, and then when he found me right after my relationship with Brutus was over, I had to learn how to deal with a man who felt he had the right to tell me what to do, now for a very long time I answered to no one but myself or who I happened to be mated to. So it was a struggle for me to suddenly have a father to deal with and it took a lot of work on both our parts but we managed to get back to that.
Until . . .
Until the day I ended up in a collar by one that had once claimed to love me, that was far more painful than the first loss, how do you explain how it feels to have your father look at you and tell you that he has no daughter, to see that pain and disappointment in his eyes. I knew he wanted to kill me and the only thing that stayed his hand after a while was that it was clear I did not have a slaves heart and truly I sucked at it because my heart was not in it, for it was not my path. It was not who or what I was. Though he came close several times to slitting my throat I can still feel that cold sharp blade at my throat, I did not beg him to spare me, in fact a part of me wanted him to kill me. But others interfered and my life was not taken. It took a few to keep Chay from killing me. I also lost my children and everything I was. A new name was given me one I will not repeat but I hate the term because of my association to it. And the brand, oh he had a way to remove that, it is a pain that I can honestly say makes childbirth feel like nothing. I still think he enjoyed inflicting it, just because of why it was there, fortunately there is no sign of that brand.
It took a long time after I was finally released and sent from the Island before my father and I were able to once more reconnect and establish a bond that has always been binding and tight when there. But now I do not feel it as strong it seems to be wavering and disappearing, fading in and out, like the waves of the thassa ebb and flow along the shores.
The pain that flows thru me is not something I can put words to. I want to crumble and break down, but I cannot, I want to throw things and hit things, but I don't. Instead I lose myself in my work for a few days to try and work thru it. Though it has not been successful. In the silence of my wagons I break and my furs are wet with the tears I shed,sometimes my body aches from the tension that I hold thru the night, the tension that keeps me from rushing out of my wagon in hysterics. Though wouldn't that be an image, I do not think I have ever indulged in hysteria.
It is my hope that whatever he is going thru he will work thru it and I will once more see him about, but I have this nagging feeling that it is going to take a while before that happens and yet another part of me feels it may not happen.
In the meantime.. I am simply left once more alone.
I hate being lonely.. I hate being alone..
Have I done something that the skies for the past two turnings have taken almost everything from me. ?
