DADDYS' LITTLE GIRL

I was a Daddy's girl. I was his little princess. He used to let me stand on his shoes and he would whirl me around as we danced to tunes of Cinderella or The Little Mermaid. He used to take me to Waffle House every morning. We would sit at the counter and talk while we watched the cooks throw the eggs. He was always the Dad who went above and beyond for charity events at our school. When I was in grade school he just did'nt give a few cans of food for the food drive. He bought cases and cases. One year he bought 20 turkeys to give to the needy. He was just like that. My elementary choir took a field trip to sing at our local mall for Christmas. My Dad went along as a chaperone. Wow did we have fun. He took the entire choir into the Sweet Factory candy store, and let them all get a � lb of candy. He paid for it all. I thought he was the best Dad in the whole wide world. When I graduated from elementary school he bought me a tiny diamond necklace. He was so proud of me that day. I loved him and he loved me. My family did not realize it, but my Dad was showing the first signs of a mental illness that would almost destroy him.

He had a pool put into our house during middle school. What fun we had! Swimming and playing games. He taught my little baby sister to swim before she could even walk. My friends came over when I graduated 8th grade and we had a big swim party. Of course Dad was there watching the pool and cooking out the hamburgers and hot dogs.

For my little sisters 3rd birthday she wanted a luau. My Dad got the whole pig and we had a big ole pig roast right in our back yard.

My how he would spend money on us. Everytime we went shopping he was the Dad who would buy us the designer purses and shoes. I had everything I could ever want. My Dad was the best Dad in the world.

Then things changed. They were small changes at first. There were days that my Dad seemed irritated. Nothing seemed to make him happy. But it would only last a few hours then he was back to his talkative happy self. But as the years passed there were more days when he was irritated. Then began the tirades. He began to belittle our family. The Dad that once called me princess now called me fat and ugly. Nothing we could say or do would please him.

Then my Dad became paranoid. He thought the neighbors were "out to get him". He was paranoid of banks, the government, friends, restaurants, everyone. One day he locked all the doors to the house, shut all the blinds, because he knew the police were coming to get him. He told us when they came he would slip out the back door and run through our back yard to get away. My Mom begged him to go the doctor. He would always say there is nothing wrong with me.

My Mom talked to doctors, counselors, and law enforcements. They all said the same thing. You cannot force him to get help. He has to do it of his own will. In Kentucky one has to be a threat to himself or others before he can be placed in a metal facility. That time finally came. My Dad began sinking into a deep depression. My Mom was afraid he was going to harm himself. She had him arrested under a mental inquest warrant. He was put into a treatment center for the mentally ill.
He was diagnosed as having a paranoid bi-polar disorder. He began treatment and began to take medication for the disorder. All went well. Then Dad thought he was okay. So he quit taking his meds.

My Dad then became violent. I was in Texas at the time finishing my college internship. My Mom and little sister went into a shelter. My Dad realized he needed help, and checked himself into the hospital. He got back on his meds. Eventually our family decided it was best for him to live apart from us. He now lives in Florida. He comes to Kentucky for holidays and special occasions.

I wish I had a magic wand to make my Dad's mind function as it should. But I don't. There are times when I still get angry at my Dad. I know his condition is not his fault, and he cannot help it. His disorder causes him to be manic to the extreme. He is either on top of the world, or at rock bottom. There is no level ground with my Dad. A bi-polar Dad is either extremely nurturing or extremely destructive.

How do you love someone who can't really love you back. There are times when I have hated him. The years that he called me bad names and belittled me haunt my thoughts.

All I can do now is pray that I can show mercy and love to my Dad, as Christ has shown mercy and love to me.

I treasure the good memories he gave me when I was small. I still want to me Daddy's little girl. I pray each day that God protects and shelters my Dad, and gives his mind the peace that he needs.

I love you Daddy!