Today was hard; I admit that I regressed to a childhood state. Not a childish state, but childhood, which is a different thing entirely. As I sat outside that clinic, tears streaming down my face, I had to do it: I called my mother. And “Mommy” was what I had to call her, because I was so scared that I was crying and shaking. So we talked, and she helped me through it (as it turns out, I still have to make ANOTHER appointment…in its own way, this is worse than waiting for the mental health people!) and I hit this weird realization about Scott and about the concept of fathers in general. As basic as it may seem, it had never really sunken in before: Daddies aren’t there to hurt their little girl; they’re there to protect and avenge their little girl. And Scott always has…and always will. That unconditional love I was always looking for? Yeah, I have it. Who cares if he’s only six years older than me and the whole “daughter” concept gets sorta weird? Fact is, he does love me, unconditionally, just like a Daddy should.

And I’m crying again. Such a small realization, but such an important one, for me, since I spent the first 30+ years of my life not quite GETTING what being a Daddy is all about.

I am feeling good about one thing, that’s for sure! I have requested time off on the 17th, because I have an intake appointment (FINALLY!) with a therapist who understands my financial issues (in other words, FREE). It usually takes months to get seen, and that’s what I was originally told it would take, but I kept digging until I found someone. My strength, my salvation. I could have just taken what they said at face value, but I was persistent, the way I always have been for other people. And two weeks, really, isn’t that long. It may even be just the right length of time–if it were a longer period, I might be tempted to pull the “ALL BETTER” scam I’ve pulled before. In two weeks, I will still be able to remember that I need work. And help.