Dear Dad,
I seem to have gotten many things from you that I didn’t realize. You may not have realized it either. But like you, I am shy. I am quiet and introspective. I am passive aggressive.
I have often dreamed of my wedding, as many people do. And I look at that time now, wondering who I’ll let walk me down the aisle. Would it hurt you to say that I’d just want to walk alone? Would it hurt you more to say that my mom and my grandmother would be picked before you? Would it hurt you to know that I give myself away before ever thinking about letting you do it?
Maybe because you already gave me away, in a sense. In one way, in disappearing. In another, in isolating me from my reality. In both, some sort of loss and blame and trauma occurred. I feel much more comfortable without extensive knowledge of why you did what you did. I understand that you may not even know.
Love is not something you taught me. In a roundabout way, you taught me forgiveness. You taught me how to lie. You taught me that masking my feelings for the sake of yours, to prevent a “scene”, to stop a fight, to keep you from anything emotional. You taught me that you are always right, even when you’re wrong. You taught me that my gentleness, my sensitivity, my emotion, was a bad thing. You taught me fear. I became so afraid to look at myself in the mirror because I couldn’t look at myself be what you so obviously hated. What you so obviously wanted to ignore. You taught me how to apologize for your mistakes, a skill I’ve internalized. You taught me how to take responsibility for “letting” people hurt me. You taught me how to forgive people who are never sorry.
I’ve learned so much from you,
thank you.
*photo taken by me*
openmindedflame 