My memories of my father are covered in pain. My whole life he has made me feel worthless, he has beaten me, he has brought me down and he never understood nor allowed the person I am or was. I have never been good enough for him and he took every chance to express this. I am always trying to ban him from my life, to ignore his existence and his opinions but deep down I still value him, deep down I still see him as my father, I still hope he would change. But I have to face the fact that he will never change, he will never me good for me, he will never want the best for me. My father sees his own shortcomings in the person I am, I show him his own insecurities and he doesn’t know what to do with them besides getting angry with me. I am his worst struggle in life, not because I am a terrible person but because I am too confronting to him. I have to let go in order to get better, I have to let go of his opinion in order to feel good about the person I am. I deserve much better than him, and I am much better than what he thinks of me.
I was taking a shower when suddenly an event from over a year ago popped up in my head. It was the day that my grandpa died and I was worried about how I left my house. In my rush that morning, I forgot to close the curtains, I forgot to feed my bunny and I forgot take extra clothes or clean underwear. I wanted to be with my grandpa so much that I had been blinded and I wasn’t prepared to stay away from home for a whole day. I had to go back if I wanted to stay with my grandpa till the end.
My mother asked my father if he could drive me home and take me back, something that would safe me about 1 hour, save me from having to wait for busses and trains, from running and from cycling. It would safe me from feeling even more stress than I was already experiencing and although 1 hour in a car with my father is far from pleasant, it was much better than the alternative.
My father agreed, he would drive so I could be with my grandpa, my actual dad. But shortly after this, my grandpa started to get worse. His breath changed and slowed down, his hands got colder, the shape of his nose changed and his hearth beat slowed down to the minimum, until he took his last breath and passed away while I was there to hold his hand.
My grandpa died that evening, sooner than anyone had expected, fortunately while I was there. Together with the nurse I washed him, shaved him and dressed him, put on his socks and placed his hands on his belly in the way he used to do when he was still alive. For the last time I took care of him and made him look the way he used to, so we could say goodbye to him.
After this last time of caring for him, we could spend two more hours in the room with him before they would take him away. Two more hours with the person I loved most, two more hours holding his hand and saying goodbye. Two more hours until the definite goodbye would come. But then my father called me and ruined everything about this moment.
My father told me that since my grandpa had died, he wouldn’t drive me home anymore. He told me that I no longer needed to come back nor did I had to be quick, so I could just take the train instead, like I usually do. I asked him if he was serious about this, I figured he was joking since it seemed such a cruel phone call. But he wasn’t, he was serious, he wanted to go to sleep early.
I have never felt more alone and misunderstood than I felt in this moment. Not only did I just loose the one person that mattered to me, it became also really clear that the family I was left with, did not at all understand me. How can someone think it is ok to spend more than 1 hour in public transportation after such a big loss? How was my father able to ignore my extreme sadness? How is it possible that he won’t help me, even during this time?
Not only the anger towards my father ruined the last hours with my grandpa, he also forced me to get back to reality. The whole day I spend feeling love for my grandpa and allowing the emotions that where part of loosing him. The whole day, nothing mattered besides him, but when my father called me I was abruptly forced back into reality.
I had to check the time, I had to check the timetables and it turned out that my last way to get home was leaving in 10 minutes. There was no other option than to leave my grandpa, to leave his room, to not be there till the end. My process of saying goodbye and grieve had to end immediately if I wanted a place to sleep that night and my bunny to survive till the next day.
I had to leave my grandpa and run to catch the last bus that would take to my train, metro and bicycle to take me home. I wasn’t ready to leave but there was no other option. I couldn’t be there till the end even tough I promised my grandpa I would. I cried, I kissed him, I told him how sorry I was, I held his hand, did our wave, told him I loved him and started running.
During my sprint to the bus stop my shields started appearing, in the public transportation they grew even stronger and within the hour it took me to get home, they had become strong enough to prevent me from feeling. Instead of the extreme sadness and love I had felt before, I was feeling anger towards everything and blame towards myself, covering up the weakness of the emotions I had felt before.
My fathers rejection, in combination with the abrupt goodbye to my grandpa, where the start of the feeling that my emotions where not allowed. I’ve always thought of my father as an asshole, but deep down inside me, I still value his opinion of me. His rejection was a sign for me that I was too emotional. I started believing that he was right, that there was no reason for me to not take a train home, that I should be stronger, that I shouldn’t be as emotional as I was, that I was exaggerating the sadness I had felt.
My asshole father still matters to my subconsciousness, no matter how much I hate or ignore him, his opinion does matter to me. Without me noticing, I still want to please him, I still want him to be proud of me, despite my knowledge that he will never be good for me.
In the days after my grandpa’s death, my father took care of my sister. He comforted her, told her to take time off, drove her to her house and her friends. My father did everything for my sister while he expected me to got to the office, keep working while taking care of my mother and grandma and spending 2 hours a day in a train. He and my sister went to the beach for a couple of days, while I was combining my work with traveling, cooking and cleaning for my mother and grandma and arranging my grandpa’s funeral.
Everyone told me I was strong enough, they told me I was strong and this made me pretend that I was. I denied all my own emotions and kept going, kept running to fulfill everyone’s needs and wishes, to be as strong as everyone needed me to be, disconnecting more from myself every day, building up anger towards everything.
Never good enough
My father took away my chance to grieve, he was the start of my emotional rejection, the start of my anger, like he has always been. About 3 weeks ago he called me about my current situation, telling me I should be working again, that I should be stronger and that I am too weak right now. According to him, I am weak for what I’m going through, but my sister and mother went through a similar thing a year ago, both did not work for about half a year, but back then, he never said they should start work again, he never said they where weak. For some reason he treats me different, he treats me in a way that shows he doesn’t care about the true me.
I believe that part of me getting better is stopping to value the opinion of my father, to stop expecting him to become a good thing in my life. In almost 30 years, he has proven over and over that he doesn’t want what is good for me. My father has never listened to me, he has never understood me nor did he bring something positive to my life. My father has always rejected me, he has always punished me, he has always beaten me, even in my own house, even when I was an adult.
I don’t say that my father is a bad person, he is a wonderful dad to my sister, but I know that he will just never be able to be the same father for me. I am independent, I want to build things myself, do things on my own and this is something he just can not deal with. I don’t rely on him, I try to do things myself before I will ask for help and this is why he has always hated me. He can not give me compliments, he can not be proud of me, because I will always make him feel worthless.
As a kid, whenever I would build something with my grandpa, install software on the computer, play one of my fathers games or fix my own bike, my father would get angry with me. According to my grandpa, this anger, resulting from jealousy and often expressed in beating, started when I was just 3 years old and got worse with everything I did. I do things my father wants to do, I do them better or smarter or more creative and this makes him feel insecure. By being independent I make my father feel frustrated with how he is, and to deal with this frustration he hurts me, he wants to make me feel pain, he wants me to stop being independent, so he can feel better about himself.
I never deserved this
I have to start understanding that I will only be good enough for my father when I’m unemployed, homeless and needy of his help. I have to understand that his opinion on me is a toxic one, he will never be able to compliment me on my successes, instead he would always want to bring me down.
My father’s insecurities have always made him angry at me, not my own worthlessness. I didn’t deserve his pain and his negativity, his behavior towards me was just a sign of his own struggles. I am not to blame, I did not do anything wrong as a kid, I just confronted him too much with his own fears.
I deserve much better what my father can give me and I have to let go. My father shouldn’t be able to upset me, he shouldn’t be able to effect me in any way. I am great and I am allowed, even if this upsets him. His opinion is no reality and the person I have become despite him is amazing.