Let me start by saying this post is a long time coming. I have had this post in my heart for almost a year now but never knew how to quite get it out. Then the queen of the universe, Oprah Winfrey, had a show entitled “Daddyless Daughters” and I thought to myself, I am not the only one who has thought about this. No, I did not watch the show. (I am actually going to make myself watch it tonight.) I did not watch the show because I knew what they were talking about and frankly I didn’t have time to stir up old emotions. I had my own stuff to deal wit. Kids, job issues, self motivation issues, relationship issues…thinking about being a daddyless daughter was not something I was trying to add to my list. But, finally, in lieu of my issues I am ready to tackle this one. I am no longer worried about who reads this and what they think because frankly I could give two shits. When you get to a certain age, people’s thoughts and perception start to slowly mean less and less. Those who matter already know my issues so what anyone else thinks or comments is irrelevant.
Let me start by saying my real father lives in San Diego. Him and my mom divorced when I was five and she moved to Atlanta. My relationship with him is very non existent. Honestly, I don’t know a thing about him except he drinks. That’s where I get that from. I have never had a connection with him, nor have I ever wanted to. It’s funny how you think you are over something, even as an adult, until you are faced with that something. A few months back my father contacted my sister in California trying to contact me. This shocked me because at 27 I have seen my father a good five times, if that, and have spoken to him a good three. What was he contacting me for? Maybe he had a change of heart and actually wanted to get to know his daughter. I mean, I’m a published author now, so I have some interesting things going on. Maybe he wants to know about his grandchildren. Maybe he wants to visit or fly us out. These are all the things that went through my head as I waited for his call. But lo and behold, he wanted none of these things. He wanted my mom to stop child support so he could pursue something. I remember being on the phone with him and he faked interest and started asking me questions. I felt like I was on the phone with a complete stranger. “So, how are you?” “Fine.” “Hmm.” Silence. “Your mom told me you wrote a book.” “Yeah. I have two.” “Hmm.” More silence. “Well, where can I get it?” “I have a website that you can purchase them on.” “Hmm. What’s the website?” www.iamje- ” “Why don’t you just email it to me?” -_- Did he just interrupt me?? Yeah, that’s how it went. A conversation with my father. The man who helped give me life. The man who is suppose to be the one male I can depend on. The one that I can run to when I have problems. The one who tells me over and over again that I am the prettiest girl in the world. The one that I want my husband to be like. That was my father on the phone. Who knew nothing and did not care to know anything about his little girl.
Now, like I said before I never really talked to my father, so he was pretty non-existent in my eyes. My mother remarried when I was about 8 and I had my dad around. Growing up, I remember my dad being funny and goofy. But I was a real mama’s girl so I didn’t even pay him that much attention. As I got older, I began to notice the withdrawal, especially after they began to have kids of their own. High school, I honestly could not stand being there. The yelling, the attitude, the disregard for others feelings. People wonder why I hate cartoons like Spiderman, Batman, etc. Well, try watching TV in the living room and having your dad snatch the remote from the couch and turn the channel and his only response is “when you pay the bills then you can watch what you want to.” Yeah, I hated anything he came into contact with. People wonder why I am so independent and absolutely refuse help. Seriously, this guy offered to open my door and I cussed him out about it because I didn’t need his help. But you have to understand where I am coming from. Going over your parents house with your kids, at night, and having absolutely no, NONE, help from your dad to get the kids back in the car and any additional bags I may have left with. Or being dropped off from the grocery store and not getting any help to take the groceries inside. This was and is my life. Why would I let a man help me when my dad doesn’t even do it? Why should I deserve this type of common courtesy treatment? Why would I believe anything that comes out of a man’s mouth? My own dad doesn’t speak to me. So what makes what is coming out of your mouth special? See, this is my mindset and it didn’t take until today for me to be fully over it. Hence, the reason why I am writing this post. I am over being afraid of what someone might say. I am over being cautious of other’s feelings when I’m hurting here and no one knows. I am over it.
Being a daddyless daughter has hindered me more because I actually have two dads! But the rejection from not just one, but two, is worse. It keeps me thinking something must be wrong with me because damn neither one of them gives a damn about you. Neither one of them tells you you are beautiful. Neither one of them tells you you are wonderful. Neither one of them tells you that you are a good mother. That you are a hard worker. That you are worthy of love. That you can do anything in this world. That they love you. I wrote this post so that people can realize the affects that they have on their children. Those babies aren’t just playing and living life without taking mental notes of everything that you are doing. You are affecting them. This has affected me still and I am 27. I cannot properly love someone else because of this. Do you really want that for your children? Do you want your issues affecting their ability to do something in their lives? Parents you have to wake up and realize that it is just not you anymore. You are affecting everyone around you and could possibly continue a horrible cycle. Love your kids more. Spend time with them. Tell them how wonderful they are even if they are getting on your last nerves. If they can’t come to you and receive praise, why would they expect it from others? As far as me and this issue, I have written about it and thus the healing has began. I have also poured a huge glass of wine.
Photo credit: www.theopenedbox.com