I'd like to start out tonight's blog with a quote from the movie Shrek.
Shrek: Ogres are like onions.
Donkey: They stink?
Shrek: Yes. No.
Donkey: Oh, they make you cry.
Shrek: No.
Donkey: Oh, you leave em out in the sun, they get all brown, start sproutin' little white hairs.
Shrek: NO. Layers. Onions have layers. Ogres have layers. Onions have layers. You get it? We both have layers.
[sighs]
Donkey: Oh, you both have layers. Oh. You know, not everybody like onions.
Yes, I find this movie hilarious. No, I did not watch Shrek in therapy today. In fact, I didn't even have an appointment today. In FACT, I've only had two appointments since my dad tried to kill himself.
This is always the awkward part of the conversation. Oh, you didn't know? Yeah, I was the one that called him in the middle of it. Yeah, I guess I did save his life. But I don't think about it like that.
I called because I'm a good daughter. I send cards on birthdays, and thank you notes on Christmas. I call my dad every week to assure him and Sandi that I'm alive. I've been trying to call less since Sandi got cancer because every phone call is about how sick she is- but when I call less, they just call more. So, naturally I called him on his birthday.
He picked up the phone, and he was crying. I'm sorry if I don't have any natural tears at this point, because I've told this story so many times I'm fresh out. He's cried on the phone to me before. He's told me, "Sometimes I think about throwing in the towel... you know?" No. I don't.
I'm your daughter. I'm your good daughter. I'm the oldest, the responsible one, the one who got out and got a life and got away from you. You always told me not to end up like you, isn't this what you wanted?
I heard later, from multiple sources, that when I called, he was sitting in the cab of his work truck. Carbon monoxide was tunneling through a pool hose he stuck in the window, stuffed with rags in the cracks. It's a slow, quiet way to go. He was biding his time. What were you waiting for? It was your birthday.
I never heard it from him, though. Then you called me. And put me through the most miserable morning/day/week of my life. I was waiting for your call. Were you? Didn't you know I would call? Because sometimes I forget. Sometimes I just don't want to. I'm human.
There's a thickness in my head when I think about it. Like a smoky headache coming on, a numbness. Most days are good, because I forget. Some days are harder. My last therapy appointment, I nearly cried the entire time. There's a lot to be uncovered, because I have become a master at false pretenses. Thankfully, that's something you can unlearn.
So here I am, sautéing onions in prep for dinner. I've cut them into thin strands, but have missed a few of outside ones so some are thick and some thin. As they brown, another dimension bubbles into view. Onions have more layers than they appear to have; when caramelizing, the insides of the layers themselves reveal layers; the wing-like skin fights to stay intact. I guess that's a lot like me.
