Daddy issues, part 2

Shortly after I turned eighteen my father called me and said he wanted to meet for dinner. Silly me, I thought he was going to give me a birthday present for the first time in my life. What he actually wanted was to tell me he “no longer had the means to keep helping me”. That meant, of course, that he was about to cut me off from the minuscule allowance he had been so magnanimous to spare me since I was in high school. Hurtful in itself, I was well aware I was hearing this from a man who arrived in a brand new BMW driven by a chauffeur, and that’s what made it hurt ten times more.

I grew up with my basic needs covered. I didn’t starve, I never lacked a roof over my head, and I always went to school. Nothing really to moan about, right? I later found out that while I was attending a shitty school where not only did I not get an education but actually got bullied, his other, official children  (when I found out about their existence) went to an expensive school I always wanted to attend.

I guess what I’m trying to express here is that my father never gave me anything other than money, so I rationalized he just wasn’t good at expressing affection. However, he was astoundedly cheap and petty regarding me. I wasn’t good enough for a higher education, nor was I good enough to live in an appropriate home (’til I was 14 I lived with my mother in a one bedroom apartment. First we shared the room, when I grew up I was sent to sleep in the living room). So really, if he expressed his affection in $$$, truth is he didn’t love me quite very much, did he?

Anyhow, he decided I wasn’t getting another penny from him. I was still in high school, and mexican laws say that parents, regardless of their marital status, must provide for the child until s/he finishes studying, even if they go to college. Well well, it’s not like every law is followed in Mexico you may say, and you’d be right. But wait, did I mention the dude is a lawyer? Well he is, so I may be making a mistake here but he must have known what he was doing was plain wrong.

Oh but his balls didn’t end there. I think it was in yet another meeting,though it might’ve been the same, he actually got the nerve to explain he didn’t really want a kid with my mother in the first place. He went on and on about how she tricked him saying she was taking the pill when she wasn’t. What was I supposed to answer to that? Did he not suspect I had put two and two together by then? Maybe he did and that’s why he was justifying himself? I don’t know how on earth he ever thought that was a good idea, but what’s clear to me is that my feelings were not a factor in the equation.

I didn’t see him or talk to him in several years. Then one day he calls me on my cell to congratulate me for getting a diploma at my uni. I was so incredibly pissed I felt I was going to explode. How could he dare calling me? To congratulate me? Really? So now he cared? I’ve been a straight A’s student all my life, did it not occur to him that I might have needed his praise more when I was a kid?

He called a couple more times until I managed to say something remotely nice to him, and somehow he got me to agree to dinner. It’s been 2 years since that dinner, I’ve seen him four or five times since then. On the second time he actually cried. I felt like slapping him or throwing him my coffee, now I was supposed to comfort him? Make his guilt go away? His guilt is his problem.

Most times I think the relationship is too damaged to even attempt reconciliation, now and then I wonder what’ll happen if he dies before I forgive him, will I be the one crying for loosing my chance? That’s really the only reason why I’ve agreed to meet him, I don’t want to be the old lady crying, I don’t want to be him.

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22 thoughts on “Daddy issues, part 2

  1. Wow, I’d really like to track him down and hurt him. I am sorry for how painful this is but am so glad that you can see so clearly that the lack is in him. Nothing angers me as much as parents who are not capable of putting their children’s needs ahead of their own. You deserved so much better than he gave you. ~ AG

  2. Wow, that was an intense story to read. I feel for your loss. Do you believe that we choose our parents? What do you think you’re learning from him? You sound very grounded and with a thick skin… but truly, I feel the tenderness of the little girl in you yearning to be seen by her dad. I really want to say something like ‘let go of the anger’, but somehow that just sounds too simple for such a deep wound. It’s anger that eats away at our innocense and hardens our compassion for life and ultimately for our own self preservation. Well done to you for doing so well at school… keep going and continue to be AMAZING! not for anyone else to notice other than you! Maybe one day you might be a parent and just maybe you’ll be asking why this child chose you…. it’s a curious question. Beautiful one, may all love surround you always.

    • Thank you for your kind and thoughtful comment. It’s indeed still very sad to know your father didn’t and doesn’t love you, but I’m beginning to let go of my anger. It’s a hard process, but I do believe I’m making progress for my own sake. I’ve heard the theory of children choosing their parents before, but I can’t believe that because there are just too many true sickos out there who shouldn’t be parents at all, however I can undrestand the reasons why people would choose to believe this, and I completely respect them. Again, thanks for your comment, made me think a lot. Sending lots of hugs your way! xoxo

    • Please forgive the hijack Chatte.
      Hi Adrianna, I know we’ve never “met” but I found what you said about children picking their parents a little disturbing (as a victim of childhood sexual and physical abuse at the hands of my father, and having spent literally decades to understand that the abuse was neither wanted or caused by me reading that was a bit shocking). So I’d like to understand what you meant by that? I think saying that to people with an abuse history with their parents could be not only painful, but damaging. But I’m trying not to get immediately defensive, so I would like to try and understand, if you don’t mind elaborating. Thank you.
      Peace, AG

      • Please let me start off by saying that I am all about peace and love. Blogging is an awesome community to meet people from varied paths that offer a slice into ‘where they’re at’ either with fictional writing or personal insights. As you can see AG, I asked the question: because it is a curious concept to me that I’ve had people say about my children picking me as their parent as well as hearing it many times amongst the spiritual community. We’re all here to learn from our life experience, otherwise, what’s the point?… maybe when we exit we’ll be a little wiser and maybe we won’t. I don’t have a definitive answer about the concept of ‘choosing our parents’ but I do believe there is a soul connection between child and parent. what happens when we go from ‘soul’ to ‘human’ can be a very different story. We are the sum of everything that we’ve lived, people that we’ve met and parents that we’re connected to. Abuse is TOTALLY wrong and it was never our fault. Maybe with a little conscious living we can open ourselves to reminding ourselves of our soul purpose… and when we see our soul we can see it in others too.
        Chatte and AG, my humble apology if I have caused you any anger over my comment. I offer you only love. May you be well…

  3. Pingback: Daddy issues | not all about cats

  4. I’m sorry you had to go through that neglect and disinterest. No one deserves that.
    Thank you for sharing though. Sometimes it can be cathartic to do so.
    Warm thoughts,

  5. Pingback: Secrets. Fucking secrets. | not all about cats

  6. I know this post was a long time ago, but I just read it (in relation to your “secrets” posts) so thought I’d comment. I’m sorry things with your dad were/are so difficult. You deserve far better than him, and all the money in the world wouldn’t have made up for him not being there for you. You should be proud of your successes, and you did it all without his help. Hugs xxx

  7. Pingback: A Long Time Ago… (part 2) | not all about cats

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