It's been 5 years since I've heard from or seen my father. Five years. I don't even know what he looks like anymore. He doesn't know what I look like. I don't really even know if he's alive or dead. Does he know if I'm alive? If I died, would he come to the funeral? He doesn't know what I've accomplished. He doesn't know who I am, how strong I am, how independent I am. It really makes me sick to my stomach thinking about this stuff which is why I try not to. The five year anniversary of not seeing him passed about two weeks ago and I didn't even think about it until a few days ago, but it hit me hard. Five years, that's a long time. I graduated college, I lived in Europe for 8 months, I got tattoos and piercings, I dyed my hair, I got a dog, I got a full-time job. He doesn't care about me. If he did, he would have reached out. He would have come to see me. He drove to Alabama to see my sister when she left for college after the last words she had said to him were "I hate you". A lot of people ask me what I did to him like it's my fault that he doesn't talk to me or care about me. I followed my dreams and he didn't like that. He's an alcoholic and mentally ill. I thought I'd never speak to him again after he looked me straight in the eyes and said "You're not my daughter anymore" on Christmas Day standing in the cold snow. Honestly, I hoped that would be the last time I spoke or saw him because that was low. I've never been so hurt in my life. My sister and I drove away in tears. Yet, he showed up to my high school graduation a year and a half later. He acted like nothing had happened. He brought the latest girl he had been fucking. He asked me if I wanted to take a road trip to California with him. I politely declined as I had already booked my flight and of course, he was insulted, but I mean, dude, really? The last thing you say to me is that I'm not your daughter anymore and then you expect me to want to drive across the country with you, yeah makes perfect sense. That's when I knew he was really mentally ill. So, that was that. The last time I saw him. The last time I spoke to him. He never called to make sure I made it to California. I did change my phone number, but he could have gotten my new one from my mom. He actually even contacted my mom shortly after my graduation and my 18th birthday to take her to court to make sure he didn't have to pay child support anymore. The last thing I heard about him was that he was telling people that it was my fault, that I betrayed him and I'm the reason why we don't talk. Like I did something wrong. I always loved him. I always cared. Even when I was 10 years old and he was driving me around drunk. Even when I was 13 years old and he verbally abused me. Even when I was 15 years old and he physically abused my dogs so bad that I had to lock my door because I was scared he would hurt me. Even when I was 16 years old and he told me where I was conceived while we were at dinner. Even when I was 17 years old and he told me I wasn't his daughter anymore. Through all the pain, I still loved him. Yet, I do one thing he doesn't want me to do, go to college in California, which had been my dream since I was 11 years old, and he never wants to speak to me again. He stopped caring about me, as if he ever really did. He stopped loving me, which I doubt that he ever did. It's just sad, man. It's fucked my head and my heart up. I've been terrified of love because of him. Thinking if anyone ever did love me, they would just end up leaving me like he did. I hurt people that I loved so that they couldn't hurt me first because that's how scared I was. Luckily, I've come to terms with this and figured out why I was doing what I was, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt. I think it always will. Father's Day is coming up, too. It's always close to my birthday which makes me mad. I delete every single email I get that has to do with Father's Day, I don't even open them. I cross out Father's Day on my calendars. Sometimes, Father's Day falls on my birthday and that's the worst. Everyone is with their father's and being all happy and I'm all sad and alone on my birthday. Social media is probably the worst on that day. It makes me really, really sad seeing the pictures of everyone with their dads. Then if I go out to lunch or dinner, I see these happy families and that really hurts, too. I'll just stay inside all day and not look at my phone. I always text my mom, though, thanking her for being both a mother and a father to me. I'm lucky to have such a great mom. I guess it's only fair that you get one or the other. I should be grateful I even have one because some people have neither. Honestly, I'm grateful for the experiences and pain he put me through because it made me a stronger person.
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Maddie Lang
Dreamer. Adventurer. Wallflower. Lover. Fighter. Kentuckian / Californian. Finding my purpose in the world. Archives
February 2020
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