A Letter to My Father That He Will Never Read
TRIGGER WARNING: child abuse (physical, emotional)
I can’t even look in your eyes without feeling sick. When I see you, I see all the times you yelled at me, all the times you weren’t there.
You criticized me. Made me feel small. I was scared of you. And you were too busy to love me. Was I not important enough to you?
I have spent many nights wondering what was wrong with me. The silent tears that drenched my pillow told the story I couldn’t tell myself. Maybe I was broken. Maybe it’s my fault.
When I tried to run away, you dragged me from the window and beat me. I think something in me died that day.
You were supposed to protect me. But instead I can no longer trust anyone. No one will ever get close.
It has taken me years to learn to let my guard down. And I still don’t know how to do it. I am left malnourished; starved for approval and love. Looking for what I desperately need in all the wrong places. I worry it will take me the rest of my life to overcome this.
Sometimes when I get mad at my dog, I see your anger boiling within me. The apple has to fall far from the tree. But I worry it didn’t. And I hate you for that.
But I can’t hate you, because you’re my Dad. You say you love me, but I never felt it. And if I didn’t feel your love, how could I feel God’s?
I tell myself that you were doing your best. But your best wasn’t good enough. And I’m left picking up the pieces. Maybe I should disappear. Maybe I’ll move far away and never come back. If I ever have kids of my own, I will be a good dad. I will be nothing like you.
Such a terrible thought. I want to forgive you. I want to love you. But I don’t know how. I can’t hide the disappointment in my eyes. I know you see it too. I try and tell you how I feel. And the truth hurts. Why can’t we stop hurting each other?
You’re older now, and I can see it. More tired. More burdened. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of a scared little boy. He looks familiar, though. I wonder, did Grandpa beat you too?
I pray to forgive you. I pray that I’ll have a chance to be a Dad — so maybe I can right those wrongs. I hope it’s not too late. I hope we can move past the past.
You’ve taught me many lessons — some I wish I could’ve learned another way. Then again, I am the man I am because of you.
So thank you, Dad.
I love you. I’m trying to.
Art. (may I call you "Art?") This story echoes so many I have heard from men who experience persistent same sex attraction. I hope you are able to find help processing these traumatic experiences. I've heard from others who found help from therapists, from their church community, from a men's group, or even from a group of guy friends, not particularly organized. Blessings.