I must have written and erased this entry ten times by now.
I’m not quite sure how to start it… So I will just dive in.
My mother and father divorced when I was very young. Early single digits. Before age five I think?
Both my mother and father talked immeasurable shit about each other from what I remember.
I vaguely recall my dad not showing up for my weekend visits most of the time.
I remember my mom crying in her bathroom all the time with music playing loudly.
I’m sure my dad always did what he thought was “enough” in his own mind, without interfering with his own life.
I always thought we were close. Until I realized in therapy he was more of a “distant father figure” who didn’t want to really be involved with anything serious in my life or take any responsibility for me or anything I really needed.
I feel like when I started dating Mierda years ago, my dad met him and started to be more involved with my life.
Maybe because I had a rough patch with my mom and he would always tell me “Just promise me you won’t turn out like you mother.”
He thought Mierda was that “escape” I needed from the toxicity that he thought was her.
Sure, my mom wasn’t the best considering the situation we were in with my awful stepdad, but that did not make her a bad mother. He didn’t know anything about her or what we had been through.
I think he always wanted a “son”. Maybe he thought Mierda was that son he never had. Maybe he never wanted a daughter. Maybe I was always a disappointment to him and I wasn’t good enough.
It seemed, looking back, he just wanted me if I was attached to Mierda, not me.
One thing he didn’t know was how awful Mierda was to me. I never wanted him to know.
He LOVED Mierda.
If I was to be with Mierda forever, I couldn’t have my dad hating him, obviously.
There was a foggy period after Mierda found out I cheated on him when I was trying to figure out what to do with my life and how to leave Mierda.
It was super unstable because my stepsister (My father’s wife’s daughter; not blood related to me or my father), was always the “favorite” to them, I felt…
Which was fine. My dad had his new wife. His own life. He was doing his own thing. I never held that against him.
Buuuuut since my stepsister was who told Mierda about me cheating on him and my dad did not know anything, I could only image what she told him.
Several times I tried to text him how I felt with zero response. Anything uncomfortable for him, I guess he ignored me.
He reached out on my birthday last year in 2016 with a picture of me as a child with him. He said “If you see this little girl, tell her I said happy birthday”. I felt sick to my stomach.
I wanted to reply “She hasn’t seen her father either.” But I didn’t.
No responses from him on my father’s day or his birthday when I sent him texts in 2016. Nothing on major holidays.
I found out he had called Mierda’s mother. No, I’m not kidding. He proceeded to talk shit about me saying he couldn’t believe I was “acting this way” or believe I “did what I did”.
She knew what I had done and what Mierda had done and she couldn’t even stand to talk with him. She told me about it.
My dad was a main topic in therapy when I went. In which I tried techniques to say what I had to say to him, without him actually being there and get closure I knew he would probably not give me.
One that was super helpful was to close my eyes, imagine what he looks like, his facial expressions, clothes, body language, then open my eyes and envision him sitting in front of me. Then talk to him verbally and imagine the responses that would comfort me.
It worked briefly but the feelings of pain always came back and still do like a dull reminder. Hence me writing this.
How could my own father disown me after not even making an attempt to talk to me or even know what actually happened?
I remember always trying to make excuses for him, putting him on a pedestal, over-exaggerating small things to make him seem like an above-average, or even just an average father figure.
I was trying to trick myself into mentally molding him into what I wanted him to be and tricking myself instead of allowing myself to see him as he is.
Fast forward to 2017, my father texted me on my birthday. Easter. Generic messages. Nothing at all worth substance.
Obligatory text messages hiding him from any awkwardness or responsibility.
On father’s day this year 2017, it’s now been well over a year and a half since I’ve seen my father or even heard his voice.
I went back and forth. Should I message him? Yes. NO. Yes. No. YES. No…
I messaged him. He replied a simple “thank you for the father’s day wishes”.
No acknowledgement of me telling him I loved him.
I replied saying “Instead of sending obligatory holiday messages to each other, if you want to talk and sort out whatever weirdness is going on, you know how to reach out to me”. (In those or some other words).
I got no response at all.
I deleted the message chain with him because it hurt too bad to see it with no response. Like I’m nothing to my own father.
Whatever he was told, he chose to listen. He chose to believe it. He chose to neglect his daughter.
I am not sure why I chose to reach out to him again, but I did.
Maybe I’m stupid.
Maybe I had hope he will come through. Maybe I had hope he would actually be a father.
Like I talked about in “Sunshine Girl. ☀️, I realized the hard way that other people, whether it be fathers or strangers, simply will not care.
I made the decision that this past father’s day would be my last attempt, at least for a while, at reaching out. He is the father, right?
He simply does not want to be in my life for reasons unknown. I can only guess.
I won’t have my father to walk me down the aisle when I get married.
My children when I have them won’t know their grandfather.
He’s chosen this life for himself.
The most powerful thing I have done is forgive him and move on with my life.
We cannot control those around us. Once we realize that, we relinquish them of any power they had over us emotionally and leaves us free to grow ourselves no longer weighed down by their toxic vibes.
I often think of what it will be like once he passes away. Will I be welcome at the funeral? Will I even want to go? Will he contact me again before this? Will I ever talk to him again? Will I ever see him again?
The situation with my father is unresolved. It hurts every day.
Yet, I am at peace.
Not with how much it hurts because I do not think that will ever go away.. But I am at peace with knowing I cannot control him or make him care enough to be the father that I deserve.
It was never my fault or my problem. It was always him.
We cannot blame ourselves for those who do us wrong or for those who don’t even make an attempt to talk to us, or be involved in our lives.
We can only take responsibility for ourselves and do the best we can to be good, be aware and be present.