I wish my father were a drug junkie, pathological liar, conman criminal, violent psycho or at least a loser of some kind

Strange thing to wish for, eh?

But I do. I wish my father was reprehensible. Some kind of monster, big or small. The kind of guy you would expect to leave his family—to leave his wife for his pregnant mistress and ten years later, to tell his daughter she isn’t allowed to see her sisters again. That’s the kind of thing a drug junkie, pathological liar, conman criminal and/or violent psycho might be expected to do. I could understand that. I could wrap my brain around it. It would make sense, however much my childhood didn’t make sense. People would make sense.

My father is not a drug junkie, pathological liar, conman criminal, violent psycho. He’s a professional from Poughkeepsie who watches football on Sundays and pays his taxes on time. He likes The West Wing and a cold Budweiser. He makes the occasional joke and laughs when things are funny. He has pizza nights with my sisters and their mother and he genuinely enjoys his family time, although there is the normal amount of inter-family bickering, as to be expected. He’s boring. Dreadfully, terribly, monstrously dull.

I tell my mother I don’t understand what she saw in him. She’s a free spirit, eccentric with her head always in the clouds. Wickedly smart, in an unexpected way. Interesting and a great conversationalist, if you have an open mind and a healthy sense of curiosity  The kind of woman who quit her steady job to write a rock opera musical—for Jesus. And still thinks that wasn’t an outlandish decision.

She explains it to me. He was her rock. Her normalcy. Her calm. He was the guy who could sit with her cousins and have a beer while she was off chasing pipedreams and gambles. When she came home with a million thoughts interweaving through her brain, he would suggest take-out Chinese. He took her hiking and let her wander off to stare at some interesting rock formation while he dutifully followed behind. And he loved her. He was normal and he loved her. She found comfort from her own busy mind in that.

I was born ten years into their fairly happy, stable marriage. I know it’s not my fault they divorced, yadda yadda. I don’t blame myself or carry any deep seeded sentiments of self-loathing. But, I am aware that the existence of a child between them created some problems. Nothing to do with me—I was busy goo goo gaga-ing and figuring out diapers.

My mother tells me she wanted to be my caretaker. She wanted to nurse me to health when I was sick and rub my back when I was sad. She wanted that to be her role, only. He wanted to be my caretaker too. He would turn to her when she was comforting me and ask for a turn. And in my mother’s quiet but determined way, she would respond, “No.” His role was to comfort her, and hers to comfort me. That was the hierarchy in my mother’s world.

How do I reconcile that? The man who left my mother for a woman fifteen years younger; the man who raised me half my life and then dropped off the planet; the man who now wants to be friends again—that man is the kind of man who wanted to hold his child when she was sick. That man reminds me on our first phone call after ten years of the various nicknames he gave me when I was younger. The nicknames I loved.

What can I possibly think of men now? My mother taught me to stay away from drug junkies, pathological liars, conman criminals and violent psychos. Those are the ones that will hurt you.

My father isn’t a drug junkie, pathological liar, conman criminal or violent psycho. He’s an easy-going old Jewish man from New York who definitely stops for pedestrians in the crosswalk. He’s the kind of man your mom approves of, because he’s nice and he loves you. He’s the kind of man everyone thinks is safe. But he wasn’t and now what am I to think?

I wish to god my father were a drug junkie, pathological liar, conman criminal, violent psycho or at least a loser of some kind. That would make sense, at least.



175 thoughts on “I wish my father were a drug junkie, pathological liar, conman criminal, violent psycho or at least a loser of some kind

  1. Fathers are tough customers. They have a hard time figuring out where they fit and almost never understand how important they are. Luckily, it’s never too late to reconcile and enjoy being your dad’s daughter. I did this after a 10-year estrangement. Smartest move I ever made. Best to you.

    1. Wow, really? Because it’s been 10 years for us now. I wrote a fake letter to him about the 10 year situation a while back. I’d really love to hear your story, if you’re willing to share… I’m finding the 10 years a long long long time. And for me, that’s been the greatest obstacle.

      1. The estrangement with my parents actually started with my mother both then involved both of them. He was never a bad guy, just very consumed with work and verhttp://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2008/09/05/the-power-of-i-am-sorry.htmly remote. The silent treatment was how we all dealt with conflict. In this case, it went on for ten years. My father, surprisingly, instigated the reconciliation. We had a very precious time at the end of his life. It was a gift. I wrote about it in this essay. http://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2008/09/05/the-power-of-i-am-sorry.html
        I hope your situation works out in a good way.

  2. Emily Anne I understand how you feel about your situation. I was raised by both of my parents, but I have a son whom I have raised on my own because his father was not the man I had hoped he would be. You think you know a person after spending years with them. Only to find out you really don’t.

    1. Thank you for commenting. I’m sorry that happened. I think people will always surprise you, just as often as you surprise yourself. I wish you and your son all the best!

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  4. Funny
    I spent my life wishing my father wasn’t those things you wish yours was. People ompulsively write books about him so he is not boreing. But trust me, nothing makes sence. Nothing. Cool to figure you have it as bad as I do. Just as undesired and yet the opposite.
    Now life doesn’f make sence either.
    ; )

    1. Oh goodness–I never meant to compare at all. I don’t believe such things are comparable. Nor did I intend to have a pity party. I surely didn’t want other people to be offended and I’m very sorry if you are. It was a post about my situation and trying to make sense of it using hyperbole. A lot of people have come back with their own stories, which has been an incredible experience. I’m sorry for your troubles and I wish you all the best.

      1. Hey there were several freshly pressed. Only your pour post bravely got me wondring. I like to wonder. When nothing makes sense I get to re-sort my life. : ) Thank you.
        Needed a spring cleaning.
        It was so cool to discover that no matter what our parents were, us disappointed ones are just as disappointed. You wished you had a reason. With your wish, my reason was lost. Magic.
        It’s cool to know everyone’s pain is same no matter the story. Done with feeling I had a raw deal. Free at last. : D

  5. Hiya, I’m a bit older than you folk and my dad stuck with us throughout – physically though emotionally he was v distant. But I’m married with a step-daughter whom I love and a son. I may be way out of line here, but it seems to me E-A that your mom forgot to love your dad after you were born. That’s significant.
    I say this not to put down your mom at all, but to say that all you folk reading, lovely ladies you are I’m sure, if you ever get married, don’t forget to love your hubby. They need it, actually more than women do as we are more self-sufficient (witness E-A’s mom copying and her dad marrying someone else). These are all generalities of course, but I thought I’d put my perspective on it. Wishing us all happy memories for our own families, and tons of love all-round!!

    1. Haha thanks for contributing to the discussion. My mom is an exceptional women and I really admire her–while I wasn’t there, I do have a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t the wife he needed. It’s taught me a lot and I appreciate your perspective. Thanks for commenting and visiting. Please come again!

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  7. Excellent post. I am brand new to the blogging scene, and am hopping around looking for blog sites to follow and yours is definitely now on my list. LOVE the title unkilleddarlings BTW! Looking forward to reading more.

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  9. His leaving doesn’t mean he’s not safe. Maybe he and your mother couldn’t work things out. Nothing to do with you. Now you have a chance to have your relationship with him apart from the mom/dad/child relationship. Was this the worse thing he did? Have you ever spoken to him about it to see his side? Just a thought. He’s a human being, nothing more or less. We all struggle and we all make mistakes, and the only thing we can do is make amends when we realize them.

    1. I spent a long while during the 10 years of his absence trying to figure it out. We had supervised visits for a while, so I contacted the guardiam ad litem to ask for an unbiased perspective. What I got was that his wife (who is Brazillian and from a rural, poor area) wanted to return to Brazil to be with her mother following the birth of their second child. She believes in voodoo and came under the impression that my mother passed on the evil eye to me and that I was trying to hurt her children. She gave my father a choice–to lose 2 children and a wife or just me. He chose logically. It sounds like an episode of Days of our Lives and I laugh about it a lot because it’s so ridiculous, but his choice makes sense. Just the story doesn’t… which is why I think I’m still looking for answers.

  10. My father was born in the same year as Frank Sinatra and I used to think – jeez! why couldn’t my dad be at least into interesting music or something, why does he have to be so unbelievably boring? It took me way too long to have a ‘mature’ relationship with my parents – one where I didn’t turn into a petulant teenager at the slightest provocation. This was for lots of different reasons – many of them good ones, others not so much.
    However, once you become an adult and get to a point of having some insight about yourself, your family and people in general, I think it’s worth it to stop blaming your parents no matter how messed up, missing and boring they maybe.
    I raise the children of addicts, criminals and violent losers – and I’m pretty sure you don’t want one of them as a father. However, there is an upside to making such a glib wish – you got FP’d! Congrats!

    1. An interesting perspective. Thank you for sharing. It sounds like you’ve been a great mother to kids who really need it.
      I don’t blame my father for my troubles–to be honest, I don’t really have that many. My family is eccentric and weird, but good fun and I’ve had a good time of it. I’ve been very successful in my personal and professional life. I used to say that was despite him, and now I don’t even say that.
      I guess my point with this point was to be hyperbolic. I never wanted to compare where my situation wouldn’t even by comparable. That was never my purpose and I apologise if that’s how it reads. The drama with my dad has been really weird, emotional, unbelievable, etc.
      His wife is Brazilian and from a very rural poor town. I considered her a second mother until I was 12. She wanted to return to Brazil to be with her mother following the birth of their second child. She believes in voodoo and came under the impression that my mother passed on the evil eye to me and that I was trying to hurt her children. She gave my father a choice–to lose 2 children and a wife or just me. He chose logically.

      I think the back story that’s missing in this post is how that story doesn’t make any damn sense. Too crazy 🙂 Therefore, I wish there was an explanation that did make sense. He’s a nice, normal guy. How he got caught up in all this and threatened to kidnap me leading to supervised visits etc I don’t understand, not matter how many times I hear the story. It just sounds… far fetched.

      In any case, I wanted to write back a long post because I respect you from your comment. You sound very thoughtful and I never meant to be glib or offensive. I didn’t want you to think so.

      1. Oh, you have definitely not been offensive – no need to apologise at all. Thank you for responding and giving a bit more of your back story (now there’s a story worth writing about!). I guess I was trying to say that I understand how you can wish for your parents/your reality to be different, I certainly did that a LOT and I think most people do to some extent. At some point though, if at all possible, it’s worth trying to just let it be, what it is/who they are, to move on and take responsibility for your own life, your own reality. That’s what foster kids have to do if they have any chance of breaking the very sad reality of intergenerational abuse & neglect. I know this wasn’t what you were writing about, but from my perspective, it did hit a nerve.
        And I really was congratulating you – my comment was probably a bit glib too!!

      2. I really appreciate you commenting and sharing your perspective. I agree the story is probably worth writing about (I know–it’s absurd) but it’s become something of a family joke-that’s-funny-but-not so I always feel weird talking about it… I guess that’s the point of this blog though. To say the things I don’t normally say. I think you’ve inspired me, both with your personal story and general openness. Maybe that will be my next post…
        In any case, thank you for the advice. It sounds like you really know what you’re talking about, and I would be wise to listen 🙂

  11. I’ve just read through this and your last post – all very thought provoking. You know what strikes me, is that really the whole issue here is one of forgiveness and whether or not that’s a path you want to choose?

    Forgiveness isn’t a simple sticking plaster and a making less of very real wounds, It’s a process – an arduous journey that will take you through some tough terrain and require every bit of love in your heart both for your father, and not least for yourself. It costs us our right to be right, and also our need to label and categorise human behaviour in order to explain the sometimes inexplicable.

    I have an estranged daughter, who thirteen years ago, exited my life leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. Yet even though I have no explanation for the choices she made, and despite being told by my own friends and other family members that what she did was unforgivable, should she ever contact me, I would still welcome her back into my life and at least give her a chance to redeem herself; Because that kind of reaching out after so long, would be an indication of deeper love, and of personal growth and a genuine desire to right wrongs.

    Your father hurt you, but he loves you and he wants to do the right thing now – right here in the present. Life is so short, and by extending grace to your father, you will also be extending grace to yourself and allowing for the possibility of something very beautiful. Give him a chance….

    1. Thank you for such a kind and thoughtful comment! I really appreciate you sharing your story and being so positive. Really. It’s great to hear.

      I wrote a letter to him and I would be especially interested to hear your take. It explains a lot of the issues I’m grappling with when it comes to fogiveness. https://unkilleddarlings.wordpress.com/2013/03/09/a-letter-i-wont-send-to-my-estranged-father-real-life/

      I hope your daughter comes around. It sounds like you’re a great father–waiting and loving all the while.

      1. Thanks Emily. Actually, I’m a Mother…. 🙂

        I have read your letter to your father and was really moved by your honesty and deep desire to seek out the truth of your own heart. Many years ago, I wrote a similar unsent letter to my daughter. I think the writing of these letters are a valuable form of self therapy in themselves, regardless of whether or not they are sent. Reading your words made me realise again that we have a universal human need for endings, for conclusions, and to really know for sure what we want and how we want situations to be resolved. Only life is never in such a hurry as we are! You know, I see a need here for you to be very mindful of your feelings and reactions, and just allow yourself to be fully present with what’s going on, without necessarily having an answer today. As you grow and mature and reach your own wise woman hood, you will find that you have evolved along the way, and the feelings you have now, may be quite different from the way you’ll see this situation in maybe ten years time. Can you just allow yourself to go with the flow here and let this story unfold in its own way? Keep the door open and welcome the possibility of growth and change. I wish you all the best on your courageous journey.


      2. Sorry. I guess ‘Sara’ in your gravatar should have been a giveaway!
        Thank you for such kind and wise advice! I agree that we all seek conclusions. It must be a human condition of some kind. In any case, I really appreciate you taking the time to be so lovely. I’ve received so many words of encouragement here, and everyone just a little different, making me think a little differently. I like the way you’ve put it 🙂
        Namaste to you as well!

    2. Beautifully…and wisely…put. I’ve read nearly all of these replies, planning how I intended to express my own to you – and find there is no more need.

      Everything saraji10 wrote seems to have touched on nearly all the points you wrote about. I wish you all the best, much peace and even more love. I know you will be fine.


      1. Hi Peggy,

        Thank you for such a thoughtful response! Saraji10 did touch on some great points. Her response stood out to me as well. Thank you for your encouragement. It means a lot. Really.

  12. I loved your post. You could very easily have written this about my own marriage, except that we did not split up. I relate to your description of your mother and my husband.. much like your dad. I’m not sure why we stayed together and it has not always been easy but we managed it somehow. My kids have asked me how we did it through the years and I don’t know the answer.

    1. Wow, interesting take. You’re the first one to relate to the relationship between my parents… If you don’t mind me asking, why did you stay? It sounds like you regret it–although I could be misreading your tone, there.

      1. Sorry- I just saw this reply (not crazy about WordPress) I am not unhappy at all.. mostly.. just that I relate to your mom.. our marriage was a lot like this:
        “… I don’t understand what she saw in him. She’s a free spirit, eccentric with her head always in the clouds. Wickedly smart, in an unexpected way. Interesting and a great conversationalist, if you have an open mind and a healthy sense of curiosity The kind of woman who quit her steady job to write a rock opera musical—for Jesus. And still thinks that wasn’t an outlandish decision.

        She explains it to me. He was her rock. Her normalcy. Her calm. He was the guy who could sit with her cousins and have a beer while she was off chasing pipedreams and gambles. When she came home with a million thoughts interweaving through her brain, he would suggest take-out Chinese. He took her hiking and let her wander off to stare at some interesting rock formation while he dutifully followed behind. And he loved her. He was normal and he loved her. She found comfort from her own busy mind in that.”

        He did not leave me.. he is my rock. He does not believe me that he would have been happier without me but I know it is true. Sometimes.

        I won’t gratuitously post a link here but I have a sort of bio that may explain it and in it .. I believe you could replace me with your mom..

        Let me know if you want to read it.

        Again, loved the post.

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  15. That was deep and honest… I often wonder similar things as my father walked out on me when my mother died. He raised me for 19 years and when I needed him most, to comfort me during our lose, he left and married another woman quickly… If he were a loser father or scumbag father it would have made sense, but my father did all the things your dad did and probably more… Today 13 yrs later we are speaking and in a stronger relationship now then ever before, but still I will never understand his mindset at that time… Hang in there, it gets better… Pray and believe in God.

    1. That’s really great to hear for me–that you two are close again now. I really appreciate the words of encouragement. Your ability to forgive is really inspiring. I’m find the length of the estrangement really difficult to deal with. It’s been 10 years and that feels like so many… I posted a non-sent letter to him a while back that articulated my problems with the time gap. It’s encouraging to hear, however, other people have overcome that obstacle. Thanks for such a thoughtful and kind comment.

  16. Wow. Astounding, compelling writing. I’m a father of a daughter and this hits me right in the heart. Not because I’ve become estranged from my daughter. But as a father it’s just…painful.

    Being a father is hard, the hardest thing I’ve ever done. There were days when my daughter was tiny where she didn’t want to be held by anyone other than her mother. I picked her, she burst into screams and my heart broke. It was a phase but a quarter of a century I can still feel that pain. No instruction book and a culture that still expects parenting to be the mother’s job. Walking through the mall with my young child and being asked “Oh is daddy baby sitting today?”

    No g*d dammit, I’m her parent and this is called being a parent.


    I have no idea beyond what you’ve shared about this situation. But as a father and and an outsider I have these thoughts for you.

    Make up your mind that you’re either going to let your father back in or you’re not. Half way is cruel to him and hard on yourself. You may decide to try and let him in and it fails. That’s part of the decision. But it’s an all or nothing kind of wager. At least from my seat. Either way is perfectly all right. He lost the right to demand anything from you when he not only left but cut off contact. Your decision, whichever way you want to go.

    If you decide to try I think you need to confront several questions –
    Why did he leave? You may think you don’t care but it will remain a great stinking turd in the middle of the room otherwise. Don’t let him make a lot of fancy explanations just the simple facts.
    Why was cutting off all contact with you necessary? He had problems with your mom, fine. That next step is cold and cruel and he has a lot of explaining to do there. His answer here could be make or break for a renewed relationship.

    If you get past those two questions there might be a future for the relationship.

    That’s just the thoughts of one dad. There are worthy every penny you paid for them but I hope they can help you just a little bit. Right now I wish my daughter lived a little closer so I could give her a hug and tell her that I love her.

    You’ve done magnificently well. Good luck.

    1. What a thoughtful and lovely response! I really appreciate how many good parents have offered wise insights. Really.

      I know the back story. I obsessed over it for a while–he was gone for 10 years, after all, and there was nothing much I could do about it except try to work it out. Here’s what I’ve got: My father left my mother when I was a baby for another woman. She is Brazilian and from a very rural poor town. I considered her a second mother until I was 12. At that point, she wanted to return to Brazil to be with her mother following the birth of their second child. She believes in some strange, backwards magic stuffs and came under the impression that my mother passed on the evil eye to me and that I was trying to hurt her children. Other than those beliefs, which are largely a product of her childhood, she’s a perfectly loving woman. Just superstitious. And those superstitions ruined my relationship with my father (among other things). She gave my father a choice–to lose 2 children and a wife or just me. He chose logically.

      But all that is pieced together through chats with my guardium ad litem and mom–who’s always been very encouraging towards him, by the way. She never wanted him out of my life after he left hers. She fought hard for that. That I’m sure of. The rest–who knows?

      I like you’re point about the halfway not being fair to either of us and it’s given me food for thought. Right now, I’m definitely straddling the line rather than committing, but I think you’re right that I should make a decision. I’m a chronic flip-flopper, though, so it’s tough…

      In conclusion–Thanks. Your comment was most excellent and has given me a lot to think about. It sounds like you’re an excellent father, even when it’s hard, and you should pat yourself on the back for that. It’s really great that you care about your own daughter so much that this post affected you so much. Really. Sounds like you’re doing a great job.

  17. Eh.. I don’t know what to think about this article to be honest. I’m not going to bore you with the details of my childhood, but.. I found your wanting of a “Bad father” kind of frustrating. You don’t want that. Trust me.

    It seems to me like you want him to be a bad guy, so you will find it easier to hate him. Easier to push him away if he is a bad man.

    That in itself says a whole lot, if you ask me. You don’t hate him, and you will forgive him, once your wounds heal.

    1. That’s very fair and I appreciate you commenting such nice thoughts despite your hesitation.

      I never intended to compare my situation to anyone else’s, as I don’t think it is comparable. My purpose was to use hyperbole to represent my own frustrations, not that him being a ‘bad father’ would be preferable. A few people have come back a bit insulted, with the same frustrations you have, so I’m trying to articulate consistently that I never meant to offend. This was about me expressing my thoughts, thoughts that I can’t say in the real world, passed on into the blogosphere ether. For those for whom this brought up mixed feelings, I really apologise. It’s not a comparison or a pity party. Just self indulgence 🙂

      I really appreciate you taking such a fair think about it. And you encouragement regarding forgiveness is really appreciated. It sounds like you’ve done extremely well for yourself 🙂

  18. It is unfortunate the pain that families suffer when such a situation happens. After ten years I can see your resentment and bitterness. And it is justifiable. But for you to have some peace, perhaps you ought to forgive him. You should see him, face-to-face and ask him to tell you why he did this. Chances are, he will ask you for your forgiveness. Make sure to speak your mind and to tell him how much this has affected your life. The burden you unload here will have a profound effect. I wish you peace. Do this for yourself, before it is too late.

      1. I certainly will check it out. Keep the faith hon. It takes a bit of moxie to tell him what he deserves to hear from you. It will be easier than you think. If he’s reasonable and trying to make a sincere re-connection with you, he expects to hear this stuff. And because he wants you to be a part of his life, he will listen. If he’s numbskull who flies off the handle and doesn’t want to be bothered by such a diatribe from you, as in he gets up and storms out, then at least you could get the thing off your chest and get on with living your life, and try to let him worry about the next move where you are concerned. You are carrying a heavy burden and it is high time you let some of it go.I will read the email/letter link and let you know my thoughts. Remember, you are very entitled to feel anger, resentment, and bitterness for what he did in abandoning you for his new life years ago. You are a wounded child. It is his fault (and your mom’s too) that they couldn’t figure out how to put the children before their own selfish needs or wants. As children, none of us asked to be born. Our parents decided that. To be decent and caring parents, one needs to always keep the kids the focus and the priority, always. Until they are raised and nurtured. Parents have the responsibility to take care of us and if they do not carry the weight of their full duty to us, then we end up wounded. Sometimes, though, you just have to try to find the healing on your own. The best way to make your life less messed up is to shed this awful baggage in telling him these things. The cathartic letter-writing the counselors tell us to try is for those situations where you aren’t likely to meet the person again, etc. I have had to do some ‘baggage handling’ of my own, on more than one occasion to different people. It was a very liberating and pivotal moment in life. I was free to be ME without feeling the oppression of rejection, toxic words used to hurt me, or anymore negativity that somebody used to hurt me.

      2. BTW, I married a monster and so my girls DID have a father who ended up a druggie, has always been a pathological liar, easily prone to committing violent acts (esp on their mom, me), a conman and criminal, socio-pathic personality, and bigtime piece of human excrement all rolled into one. I think my kids would rather he ditched out on them instead of putting them through hell as those things he was, and remains today.

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  20. I was estranged from my father and we lived in the same house. We have a wonderful relationship now and I have no idea how it happened. I am so grateful it did though. I hope you find peace one way or the other.

  21. Emily Anne. I fully understand your use of hyperbole to relay that you could make sense of and expect that kind of behavior from a drugie. . . .bad guy but instead you have to figure out why this good guy abandoned you (at least from your perspective). You have received all kinds of good advice and valuable food for thought from your readers.

    My thought is not directly related to your specific situation but more of an observation of a cultural downfall (in my opinion). The comment about your mom in essence leaving your dad out of the nurture role speaks volumes to me.

    It wasn’t until my teenage son became a father that I realized how important children are to their fathers. Women misread men’s means of coping when it comes to separation from their children. I watched my son spiral out of control and readily recognized that it was the fact he could not be with his child in the morning when he woke up and and at night before bed. He was not intentionally kept from her, it was just a matter of timing in terms of arrangements that never seemed to work out. Then when the timing did work out, it would come to an end and the process started again. Women in this situation tend to “fight” to be with their child. Men, however, withdraw to protect the repeated agony of their heart. What women think is men ‘not caring’ is in reality men withdrawing merely for self-preservation. His daughter is six now and he and her mother have been living together for over a year (it started out just a co-parenting, friend situation and has grown into being a couple). Almost immediately the destructive behavior stopped. He is finally being the father he was, by proximity, unable to be.

    We, women, I think dismiss men as unnecessary when it comes to children. We disregard even to the extent that they have no say in whether their children are even born, as if the children belong only to us because we carry the physical burden of birth (for a relatively short period of time, I might add). As long as we continue to disregard the importance of men the more they will play the role. I don’t think women fully recognize the affect their actions and words have on men and I think we need to re-evaluate the message we are sending them.

  22. I have a strange, complicated relationship with my father as well. It actually involves me trying to estrange myself FROM him because of his toxic influence on my self esteem throughout my life (it’s part of my recent journey into blogging, hi! I’m new here!) so I understand the struggles of just not understanding just what you want and maybe need out of the father/daughter relationship all too well because it was never properly formed for you in the first place. And there are just so many different ways that can end up being the case, from the completely sleaze bag dads, to the distant dads, to the cracked out control freak dads (mine). And I think at some point we all realize parenting is a hard job, but we also realize that our parents should have realized they should have been more concerned with what they were failing to see in our suffering as well.

  23. My dad left when I was 11 because he was an alcoholic and drug addict.. it doesn’t make it easier, but I can see where it would help make sense of the situation. Never let your parents mistakes fall on your shoulders. It will all make sense one day, and it is your choice if you want your father back in your life or not. Dont let others talk you into something you are not comfortable with.

  24. I don’t dare to try and console you or rationalize away your feelings on this matter, but only to say that my experience with my father was much the same as you describe. 17 years later, we have the best relationship of my life. It is by no means a “father-son” Leave It To Beaver type of relationship, but I have grown to appreciate many things about the person that he is. All this is to say that the past is no indicator of the future. People change. Parents are apparently people after all. Hang in there, brighter days will come.

  25. Dom Sharee

    I know I am a bit late on commenting, but I am so thankful I came across this post. I know how you feel in many ways. Though I was blessed with a good adoptive father, my biological mother holds hostage the truth about my biological father and so much more. My adoptive mother refuses to acknowledge my existence and has nothing to do with me, the same as my biological mother. Neither of these women are junkies or psychos (well not in the kill you way…yet) but they have chosen to hurt me in the most elemental ways possible with no explanation. Once I think I have made peace with the situation it creeps back up when I least expect. I not only have trouble trusting men, but people in general. All my life I have felt that if my own mother can give me away then who could possibly love me. Thank God for my children and surrogate family…I still ask myself though if I will ever have peace completely.

  26. Pingback: I wish my father were a drug junkie, pathological liar, conman criminal, violent psycho or at least a loser of some kind | Dom Sharee

  27. V

    My father is a compulsive liar and a criminal. And trust me when I say you don’t want this so just be happy with what you have.

  28. How I can relate!!! But you might want to reconsider the pathological liar one cos mine is and I’ve been put into a crazy emotional roller coaster because of his happy family drama (now he’s into adorning his Facebook account with a happy family photos, quotes and all those shits that make me want to puke).
    But yeah I wish my dad was a drug junkie or a monster.
    Just to settle things.

  29. Pingback: Freshly Pressed: Friday Faves | The Digital Past

  30. kami

    No you don’t. Your parents love you. My mother in law is a junkie and she tried to murder my husband. He died for 2 minutes cause of her. My so called mother is a junkie that doesn’t do drugs. Its fucking miserable it is HELL especially when people force the toxic person onto you. Don’t whine cause you don’t understand your parents be fucking greatful they both are nice to you. I would kill for my parents to get a divorce cause then I’d have some kind of normality in my life. Call me horrible whatever you people with divorced parents DON’T KNOW HOW EFFING LUCKY YOU ARE!!

  31. Pingback: Revista MBA » Archivo del Blog » Freshly Pressed: Friday Faves

  32. Alex

    Whywhy why
    Your dad walked out on you so you wish he was a criminal? Really? My dad is a criminal and I have 0 friends bc of it, my lawn was lit on FIRE because of it. People don’t avoid you because your dad walked out do they?

  33. Pingback: A long time later (3 years), on a computer far, far away | unkilleddarlings

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