father's day for the fatherless

Hello.

This is a heavy post so if you’re not in the headspace to read something sad, please come back when you’re ready.

This post is meant to commiserate with those of you who have complicated and toxic relationships with your fathers.

My dad is not dead, but he’s been dead to me the majority of my life.

My dad is not a bad person, but he’s a terrible father.

My dad left my mom when I was 9 years old after cheating on her with multiple women. After he left her, he got married several times to different women all within the span of my childhood. The women he brought into my life were abusive, drug addicts, and deranged and their children from previous failed marriages were even worse than they were.

Let me tell you a story. One of the women he married had an older son. He was about 4 years older than me. One evening, we were all swimming in the pool in our backyard. As the sun began to set, the sky grew darker fading into blue and purple hues. I was splashing around in the shallow end of the pool in my one piece bathing suit because my stepmom would frequently tell me that I didn’t have the body for a two-piece. I was dragging my fingers through the water making little circles around me when I heard a rustling in the bushes. I got out of the pool to go see what it was. I got down on my knees and poked my head under the leaves. I lifted up one of the branches and saw a little kitten. It was a long hair tabby kitten with black and brown stripes and kind eyes. I swear my heart skipped a beat and a half. I was elated. I love animals, especially kittens, puppies, and cows. I wanted a pet so badly as a little girl, so I thought this would finally be my time. My dad was in the house with my then stepmom and they were absolutely wasted per usual. “Look Jake!”, I said to my (real) younger brother who was in the pool practicing his somersaults. I held the sweet little kitten in my hands and my brother came over to see what I had found. I opened my hands and the kitten let out a meow. His eyes grew big and filled with joy. He loves animals, too. He took his hand and gently pet the little kitten’s head as she let out another coy meow. My step brother jumped out of the pool and yelled “What the fuck is that?”. I brought the kitten close to my chest and told him it was a little kitten. He looked horrified and told me how much he “fucking hate cats” and how they were disgusting and deserve to die. I clutched the kitten tighter to my chest. He came closer to me and when I tried to run away, he grabbed by arm and grabbed the kitten out of my hands. I screamed and my brother did, too. He ran towards the pool dangling the kitten by her feet and then got down on his knees and held her under the water until she drowned to death.

I sobbed hysterically. I had never seen anything so horrifying in my life. I ran inside to tell my father what my step brother had done and he was too drunk to care or do anything about it. He didn’t believe me, even after my brother backed me up. I ran to my room and cried and realized that I would never be more important to my father than my his wives and their children.

There is a special place in hell for people who hate and abuse animals. To this day, this memory haunts me and every time I come in contact with a kitten, I hold them against my chest and give them a little kiss on their forehead and my heart aches thinking about the kitten from my childhood.

His next wife was abusive and would frequently call me fat and ugly. And I still think about that time she hit me and shoved me through the wooden gate at my dads house and proceeded to tell my dad that if he didn’t get rid of me, she would leave him and how every time, he chose her.

I think about the next wife who wasn’t as bad as the other’s, but never once made me feel like I was ever welcome at their house. My dad would give the entire world to her and her children, but when it came to me, he wanted nothing to do with it.

And dad, I will never forgive you for sending me away twice to therapeutic military psychotic “boarding schools” in the middle of fucking nowhere for two years of my life causing me the worse trauma I have ever experienced because you didn’t know how to care for me or parent me like a normal person. I carry that with me every day. If effects me every single day.

I’m forever traumatized by the two times you hired undercover cops to kidnap me in the middle of the night and handcuff me in the back of a van to take me somewhere as toxic and insane as those programs. I will never forgive you. And I’ll never forget the men who worked there who would sexually abuse me and the other girls, and when I finally was allowed to have a visit with you and mom and I told you what happened and you still didn’t believe me.

I could continue and write a book full of all the stories and trauma I carry with me because of my father.

For the longest time, I waited for my dad to call and apologize for what he put me through. Even after sending him screenshots of male staff who were arrested and sentenced to 25 years in prison for raping young girls, he had nothing to say. I spent years waiting for him, hoping he would grow up and realize that the only thing I’ve ever wanted is to feel loved by him. But he never showed up.

So I stopped waiting, and I took back my power. I found myself searching for his love in all the corners of the world and never found it. After years of therapy, I realized that you don’t owe anyone anything just because they’re blood related. A father is only a father until one of you forgets.

I’m not writing to you with any advice. I’m writing to commiserate with those of you who have toxic, fleeting, shitty relationships with dads who never learned how to grow up and show up.

And I want to share few notes from a parenting standpoint.

When I was younger and I would ask my dad why he hurt my mom and me, he would frequently say, “When you’re a parent you’ll understand.”

I’ve been a single parent for 13 years. It’s been my daughter and me exclusively for 13 years. Her dad has never had any involvement her entire life- no visits, no child support, nothing. I’ve stayed very single to provide my daughter with a sturdy and stable home so she would never have to experience the back and fourth confusing lifestyle I was raised with. I look at my daughter and can’t even fathom the thought of being so selfish and detached from realize to hurt her the way my father hurt me. So he was absolutely right. As a parent, I finally understand.

So reader, if you’re struggling, please know you’re not alone. Life is too short and your life is too precious to mourn the loss of people who will never reciprocate the love and affection and attention you deserve.

I hope you can spend the day find ways to heal and care for yourself in kind and gentle ways. Do something you love. I’ll be baking myself a sweet treat, watching films that make me feel something, and reading my new books.

I’ll see you tomorrow (and I’ll be sharing this week’s articles and media consumption)

Love you, bye <3