That saying slays me. Literally hurts. "Every girl is a princess in the eyes of at least one man: her Daddy." For so many of us this is a total lie and hurts beyond belief. Daddy's girl. What is that? Who is that? Why can't that be me?
For some, it is growing up with multiple surrogate fathers. Some may be lucky enough to find one that treats her as his own and loves her as a good father should. I envy them, too. For some of us, we willing would have traded our fathers in for any number of the ones that we found within our friends' homes. And in return, mine frequently asked why wasn't I as good as his friends' daughters. Trust when I say, he let me know he would trade me for any of them.
Nothing was ever good about me in his eyes. Even as an adult, I strove to change this. I stumbled blindly believing that at some point he would recognize his mistake and I would win his love and approval. For years, I floated along on this fabricated adult relationship in which I knew he wasn't proud of me, I knew he didn't respect me, but I still had hope that someday... someday... he would come around. Just one more accomplishment... just one more success... but they never amounted to anything in his eyes and so they were never enough for me, either.
It took so much forgiveness just to reach that facade of an adult relationship. It never quit being fragile and in danger of blowing away like dandelion fluff. So many times, even through the adult years, I gave in and forgave. Over and over, through hurt after hurt. And here we stand. A year and a half since speaking. Some say I need to forgive and embrace or I shall never be happy. I ask, have you tasted my life? Some say that he is old-school, stubborn, set in his ways. I ask, since when do such people have free-reign in my life? Has he ever offered me an apology? FOR ANYTHING?
How about the constant put-downs even after our mother was dead and in the ground? Wasn't her murder painful enough? Hadn't we lost enough without him still cutting her down? Of course, he swears to never do any such thing. But they have heard him, too. How he constantly picked fights with me, taunted me, and said hateful things; only to grow angrier and angrier with my tears and refusals to fight back. I, too, am old-school. I believe in respecting your parents. I was incapable of fighting back. How that fueled his rage and made him lash out at me more.
My brothers see him as a demi-god. Funny, how the past is sometimes shielded from memory. Funny, how often his voice emerges from the youngest's throat--sometimes word for word. Sometimes, it is like he was directly programmed by our father to give the responses he does. Yet he does not hear it. He has no clue. I do not point it out.
His mother is sure he will achieve sainthood. He is a wise man of such infinite wisdom and value. He is and always will be her precious baby boy. There can be no fault.
I do not wish to take that away. But I sometimes wish they could see it from my side, too. Suppose he had done to any of them what he did to me? Funny, I am imagining they may also choose to avoid. I am wondering if they would have even been capable of forgiving before that last event. So many scars--so many years--so many times returning with open arms and forgiving. Not forgetting, not being without pain, but allowing him to be a part of my life after the hurts.
I can't do it. This time, I can't. There are some wounds that I can't paste a Band-Aid over and say "Ha! It's all good! I am fine!" Because I am not. He broke the part capable of letting him back in. Were he any other person on Earth, I would totally fucking hate him. But he is my father. What do you do with that???
I realize now the myth. Daddy's girl. Daddy's princess. I don't remember smiles. I don't remember feeling like a star in his sky. I don't remember feeling special. All I have are the frowns, eye-rolls, hurtful words, mental scars and emotional turmoil. "He tried his best." Yeah, you know what? Good for him. That's great. But it needs to be recognized that I am also trying my best. My best to survive and see myself as a good person. He doesn't exist in that world and I have to be okay with that.
The truth is, he is never going to apologize. He is never going to view me as anything or anyone. He is never going to be proud of me. He is never going to be that dad that I wanted or hoped for. Princesses are only found in fairy tales and I need to recognize that what I see and want is just another part of a fairy tale that will never happen. Otherwise I keep the key to my happiness in his pocket and it never belonged there in the first place.
***After rereading, I hear the angry voices saying: "Oh! You believe in respecting your parents? How can you post such blogs and call that respect?" "He is never going to be proud of you? Well, no kidding! Have you read this junk?" And the question: "I wonder what would happen if your dad ever read your blog?" The truth is, even when my father was in my yard--shaking me and trying to make me confess to being on drugs--I still didn't yell. I was angry, I was hurt beyond belief; but I did not raise my voice, I did not swear. I did not hit him when he grabbed me. I was not raised that way. Is this blog disrespectful to him? Probably. Oh hells, I am sure of it. But none-the-less, I am sharing it. I have to. Yes, I could just keep it in a private journal and trust me when I say there are volumes upon volumes of them. Many years of heartbreak exist within notebooks, on floppy-discs, and on flash-drives because yes, much of it is too personal and hurts too much. I choose to tell some of it because I recognize I am not alone. My story is my own and unique in many ways, but yet I have discovered my feelings of loss, hurt and betrayal aren't unique. Many have painful relationships with their parents, their children--many have suffered as victims of abuse in the name of love; many have hurt others and thought it was love. Simply, many of us hurt, for one reason or another. This blog isn't to glorify that pain or say, oh woe is me--it is with hopes that maybe people will find some spark of truth--become more aware in their own lives--make healthier choices--maybe even just feel not so alone. All I can do with what happened is try to make sense of it and turn it around to some positive. And I hope somewhere in here, you find it, too.
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