It's finally over.

I am really hesitant to write about this on here, because I don't really know who reads this, but there have been a lot of things that have really been weighing heavily on my mind. But I have to write about it, regardless of how I will be perceived. Because I feel that what I am about to write about will provide some insight into why these past few months haven't been easy for me, in general.

Most of it involves the wedding, and the months leading up to it. I have been waiting for a very, very long time for this day to finally come.

There are so many things that went wrong about the day, and I've refrained from talking about it because I feel like people will judge me. For being pessimistic. Negative. Whatever you want to call it. Because I don't want to come across as being one of those complaining types of people.

I'm just going to say it.

I wonder how much different the day would have been if my dad hadn't been there.

I guess I should explain.

My dad is an alcoholic. A drink-as-soon-as-you-wake-up alcoholic. Much of my childhood involves fists, bruises, yelling, slurred speech, slammed doors...what kind of father makes his own family fear him? What kind of father threatens to take his own life in front of his own children? I've blocked out so many of the memories, but some of them are so fresh and vivid, I feel like they happened just yesterday.

Seeing him again felt like ripping the scabs off of old wounds.

He's been in so many DWI accidents that he had his license revoked. He doesn't work. He sits at home all day, drinking and listening to the radio, thinking of things that piss him off. And then he calls me, drunk, ranting and raving about how much his life sucks. And sometimes, he calls me and says things just to see how I will react: "How would you feel if I didn't come to your wedding?" or "What would you do if I were no longer alive?" He likes attention. He's always managed to get my attention.

There is a part of me that hates him with every fiber of my being- for what he has done to me and my family. But then there is a part of me that says "He is your father. He is an alcoholic. And you can't judge him because it is a disease." I have a lot of conflicting emotions about my father, and it is difficult to make sense of it all. I don't know how to feel anymore.

The night before my wedding, during my rehearsal dinner, my dad promised me that he wouldn't drink and would be on his best behavior. We had our rehearsal dinner at a pub on the Central West End. He asked me for permission to have one drink, because he was having shakes from withdrawals. I told him that he could have one drink. An hour later, he still has "one drink" in his hand, still cold. Denies having gotten another drink. And you can predict where it goes from there.

At some point during the dinner, he went downstairs out onto the patio to smoke. There were other people having dinner and drinks. I came outside because his dinner was getting cold. He loudly exclaimed, "THERE'S MY DAUGHTER!" and started bothering the people at the table next to him, who were visibly uncomfortable. I told him to lower his voice and leave them along. Of course, at this point, he was drunk. He had tunnel hearing. He refused to listen to anything that I said, and just started yelling as loudly as he could, causing a scene. He got up from his seat and walked away, leaving me there, crying and embarrassed in front of complete strangers.

At some point, I vaguely recall my mom taking him away from the rehearsal dinner, but I will still never forget the broken promises, the anger, the embarrassment.

Fast forward to later that night. I spent the night at Drew's parents house with a few of my bridesmaids. With the events from earlier that evening still lingering in my head, I tried to calm down and sleep. Only, I couldn't. I felt nauseous. I couldn't breathe. I believe I had a panic attack. I felt like I was completely losing control. The only thing that I could think about at that moment was how much my dad was going to ruin my wedding. That night, all I could think about was him showing up drunk, or saying or doing something to embarrass me.

This isn't what I should be worrying about the night before my wedding. But it was.

He managed to stay sober for the wedding. He was visibly shaking that morning, not because he was nervous, but because he was having withdrawals. During the reception, I realized that the only way that I was going to enjoy myself was if I avoided him. Tried to forget him. Pretend like he wasn't there.

There is a part of me that is ashamed to admit this. I just wish that every good moment in my life weren't ruined by him. I just wish that I could forget all of the things that he has done to me and my family. I wish I could move on.