Things That Piss Me Off

In All Seriousness #1:

Content Warnings:

This blog will be about my personal experiences with my father. There will be mention of abandoment and truama.

To begin, I will express that this is a more serious topic and will be written as such. This is my personal experience and will involve opinions based on my own perspective. And what is my perspective? Pissed off.

I would also like to disclose that my parents were still pretty young when they had me, both having just turned twenty when I was born. I would also like to state that I do not blame the military or our troops for my father’s behavior.

My father’s and my story begins when I was born. He decided that he would be an active part of my life and insisted on being on the birth certificate, leaving me burdened with being the only one in my family with his last name. Soon after, though, he decided to enlist in the military. This was a great decision as a new father who now had to provide for a baby, so I can fully understand this choice.

When I was around two or three, whenever he had leave, he would have me visit. Whether it was walks through the park, buying me the latest Barbie doll, or watching Star Wars, he made time to be what he had decided to be just years earlier: a father. This is what I knew—living away from my father was just a part of everyday life, and I was okay with it.

So why did I decide to write about this young-adult who was just trying his best with what he had?

Well, when I was two and a half, my mother remarried. I got lucky—my new (step)dad became the best dad a daughter could have, but that’s a story for another day. Soon, I moved to North Dakota, and life moved on. My father moved on.

When I was eight, my mother received a shocking message—one from my father stating he wanted to be part of my life again. Now, mind you, I had gone years with no calls, no texts, no birthday cards, no Merry Christmases—nothing. I couldn’t even put a face to the man who called himself my father. My mom and I talked about what had happened; she sugar-coated it for little me and summed it up to the military. Because of this, and my curiosity about this strange missing piece of my life, I ended up right at his front door.

Well, kind of.

I ended up flying for the first time, as an unaccompanied minor, down to Florida, somewhere I had never been, to a his new wife and step-daughter, whom I had never met, and most importantly him, who I could not remember.

That visit was the start of many. I would fly down, visit for a couple of weeks, (he was no longer active duty in the Army) then go right back to my day-to-day life. This was great at first; he bought me gifts and took me on trips that my parents (who have five other children) could not afford. I am still not sure if it was guilt or societal pressures that sent us down this path, but memories were made, so I suppose I can’t complain.

It wasn’t until I was twelve that I started to notice something off.

When I was around ten or eleven, my father divorced his wife (we’ll call her Casie). I was okay with this because Casie had only referred to me as ‘girl’ or ‘chica,’ and it kind of made me mad. Soon, though, he was with someone new (we’ll call her Alice). Alice was amazing. She was a singer, which was my dream at that age, and she and I got along really well. We did family games, girls’ nights, movie marathons (my favorite being the Alien movies), and spa days. Watching her sing on stage was probably my favorite pastime. She gave me hope that I would be able to overcome my stage fright and become as amazing she was. During this few years (8-12), I had also made close friends and built myself a little Florida family.

Well, that ended. My father summed it up as: ‘She cheated,’ and told me she didn’t want to be around me anymore. I believed him, and it left a certain hurt in my chest for a long time.

When I was 12 or 13, my father found someone new (this one we’ll call Hannah). My father, being newly in love, decided to pack up the life we had made in Florida and move to Arkansas. This was really hard. Even though I only spent a couple of weeks to a month with him each year, leaving everyone I had in Florida was pretty damned difficult. Also, I never really got along with Hannah. We never did anything together, and all I can really remember about her is that she wore thong swimsuits to family pools..

This was around the time I began to notice my placement in my father’s life. I started to realize that he was dedicating his whole life to Hannah and her son. This could be summed up as jealousy and would be justifiable, except for the one thing I remember clearly: you could go into any room in his home, and you would not find a single picture of us, let alone pictures of me.

This started to bug me, I would look back and see how he treated his step-kids, and felt left behind. I would spend time in a house as a guest, not as his kid. That’s when I decided to call him out for the first time. This ended with yet again another promise to be more present in my life.

Soon he and Hannah broke up, and once again he summed it up to: ‘She cheated,’ and told me she didn’t want to be around me anymore.

Soon things started to fix themselves, my father had started making an effort. He moved back to Idaho (where we are from) and he settled down at his fathers place for a bit. I remember when I visited that summer everything felt right. He promised that he was going to take time for himself, and try to fix our broken relationship. That lasted maybe a couple weeks. On a drive home he explained that he had met a new girl (this one will be Sandra).

Sandra was pretty young, only nine years older than me, which is probably why she and I got along so well. Sandra was awesome; she would take us on hikes (actually, she was the one who got me into hiking in the first place). She also did girls’ trips, got me into a studio to try singing, and became one of my best friends. I even visited a couple of times when my father wasn’t there (at this point, he was a contractor for the military and was out of state for a couple of months at a time).

Well, the pattern continued, and after a couple of years of growing close to Sandra and her whole family (I’m still friends with most of them), my father pulled (once again) the ‘She cheated’ card and told me she didn’t want to be around me anymore.

I was old enough now to understand that he had been lying, that there was no way Sandra would have just left. I ended up getting in contact with her, and she explained that my father had told her I was the one who wanted no contact. He had hurt me, lied to me, and separated me from his past.

This realization kickstarted our current relationship. As I have gotten older I have come to realize many many different things that just weren’t right:

One thing I realized was that he would always put himself and his girlfriend/wife before our relationship—something that still remains a problem, even now that he has been married to his current wife for three years. In fact, at the beginning, she was the one who pushed for a relationship with me.

Another thing I realized was that he would never truly want to know me beyond what gives him pride. He has always known and bragged about how wonderful a daughter I am, and taken compliment after compliment, even though he wasn’t there through every breakup. He didn’t teach me how to tie my shoes or ride a bike. He hasn’t seen me when I am so mad that my forehead vein pops out. He hasn’t seen a bit of what it’s like to know me.

A third thing I realized was that he will always be more of a cool uncle than a father figure. He has never really had to be a parent; he never had to teach me life lessons in order to give me strength or pick me up when I was at my weakest. Last year, despite him having three bedrooms and only one kid, he got rid of my room there. Even my parents, who have five other kids, kept my room as long as possible. This Christmas? He sent my roommate and my dog gifts with heartfelt notes and sent me one with a note that basically said, ‘Here’s a gift.’ Several times, we have made plans, and he ‘couldn’t afford it,’ which was reasonable, until the weeks I was supposed to visit, and he started posting about cool helicopter rides and wine tastings with his wife.

My favorite? He plans family things with everyone but me. We were on the phone (naturally, something I had to request), and he was telling me about how he keeps everyone together, even though he never, not once, kept his promise to me to keep our relationship together.

Twenty years ago, my father made a promise to me. And for twenty years he has broken that promise.

You might be thinking, ‘Damn, I didn’t know I signed up for a pity party’… but fun fact, that’s exactly what you signed up for, this is my blog so you can kindly deal with it or leave. With that though, to end on a lighter note, I have added some things that I believe came out of all of this:

1. Sometimes you have to accept that people won’t fight for you. I have had to watch as this man fought for everyone around me, but rarely fought for me. This has helped me learn that it’s okay if someone doesn’t see you as worth it to them, as long as you know that you are worth it and are willing to fight for yourself.
2. Abandonment issues don’t just stem from consistent abandonment, and I think people forget that. This little snippet of my life shows that just because someone isn’t completely absent from your life doesn’t mean they are present. Abandonment can happen from people you live with and see every day, too.
3. Even though he is not entirely to blame, my feelings are still valid. People just don’t know how to be something they are not. My father, as much as it hurts me and straight-up pisses me off, has never had to be, well, a father. He never had to take care of me growing up, so it’s almost harsh to blame him entirely. Though, that doesn’t invalidate how I feel or how I was affected.
4. Just because someone has decided to be a certain way doesn’t mean that you have to be that way in return. With appropriate boundaries, we can look at how people treat us and try to be our best selves in turn. In my case, maybe my father doesn’t treat me well, but maybe me trying gives him some sense of security. And I do have boundaries, and I follow them.

To reiterate: I think that taking the shitty parts of life and shaping them to become lessons is one of the best things we can do for ourselves. I think it is important to validate what we feel. It’s okay to be mad, it’s okay to recognize toxicity, it’s okay to still crave that missing love, it’s okay. But I also think that part of allowing ourselves to feel the negative aspects of what has happened is acknowledging that we can be better for it. Maybe we don’t deserve it, but we can’t take back what is done. So why let it be a weakness if we can turn it into a strength?