“Honestly, you were meant to be an abortion,” were among the final words my father said to me. This hurtful remark came during Thanksgiving 2004, right in front of family gathered around the table. I was taken aback, humiliated, and deeply wounded—but part of me wasn’t surprised.
Throughout my life, I often felt like an unwelcome presence, akin to a guest at a party that lacked warmth, joy, and enough food. I was just another mouth to feed, another child to care for in a home filled with chaos. My mother had her reservations about my existence, but for my father, I was an easy target for his frustrations. He was a police officer in New York, a man who could turn violent when he was off duty. His affection for a cold beer surpassed any love he had for his own children.
Struggling with mental health issues, he refused to seek help. When his emotional state spiraled, we were all caught in his turmoil. Sometimes he could be a little fun, but more often, he resembled a menacing figure from a horror story. He spun tales of disappointment and shattered dreams, preying on our happiness.
He jokingly called me “Foe,” referencing “Jack and the Beanstalk,” yet he truly was my adversary. He never stood by me, never offered protection, and never expressed love. Like so many others, I grew up in a home devoid of affection. The love had faded, much like my father wished I would. I was merely a reminder of a discontented marriage and life. When I came to this realization, I experienced my first heartbreak.
Since then, I have been on a quest to mend my fractured heart. Though I haven’t fully succeeded, I continue to strive for healing. My past choices, influenced by this emotional neglect, led me into unhealthy relationships and poor decisions.
It wasn’t until I began to mature and understand my own needs that I started making better choices. I learned to embrace the person I had deemed unlovable. Gradually, I embarked on a journey of healing, viewing life through a new lens and discovering a path toward happiness.
Of course, there were obstacles along the way and several missteps, but I learned from them and found my way back. I distanced myself from toxic influences and surrounded myself with compassionate individuals who understood both physical and emotional pain, truly caring for others. This journey was neither quick nor easy, but ultimately it was worthwhile.
Being alone is far better than being with those who hurt you. Patience is essential; it’s wiser to wait for positive experiences rather than jumping into detrimental situations. Taking time to love yourself is invaluable.
You are remarkable. You are a gift.
For so long, I yearned to hear someone say they loved me. It took time for me to realize that the most important voice I needed to hear was my own. When I finally looked in the mirror with pride and acknowledged my self-worth, my life took a new direction.
I eventually met a wonderful partner and now have two beautiful children. I make it a point to tell them I love them frequently, understanding the power of those words. I show them affection regularly, hoping to shield them from the harshness of the world. I strive to teach them kindness, so they can extend it to others.
After that Thanksgiving, I only saw my father once more—on his deathbed. There were no apologies, no warmth, no acknowledgment of my unborn child. No “I love you” was exchanged. I simply leaned down, kissed his forehead, and whispered a prayer for him to find peace at last.
In that moment, I realized I no longer needed him. I never truly did. Leaving that hospital room, I carried with me everything I ever needed: my self-acceptance, a newfound love for myself, and an abundance of love to give.
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In summary, the journey of healing from a father’s emotional neglect can be challenging but it is also a path toward self-discovery and love. Embrace your worth, surround yourself with positivity, and remember that self-love is the foundation for happiness.
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