I don’t remember how old I was and I don’t remember what I was wearing, but I do remember what I was feeling. Every time I saw that big gray van pull up, it felt like Christmas. See, I was a “daddy’s girl” and whatever I wanted I got. I lived with my mom and he lived somewhere else, and although I didn’t understand why he couldn’t live with us, I guess I was content that I got to see him when I wanted. My grandmother used to tell me stories of how he came running whenever I called, and now it’s almost comical because it all seems so far away. I remember how the pedestal I placed him on drove a wedge between me and my mother. I used to threaten her that I was moving with him. Yea right…like I would really move to a place that didn’t feel like home. Not even a home away from home. It felt foreign.
And, I didn’t realize the damage until I got much older. Honestly, I just didn’t want to accept that I had any kind of “daddy issue;” I didn’t want to be a statistic. But after experiencing two failed relationships with really good guys and almost ruining my current one, I stopped running from the truth.
It started with not understanding why he couldn’t live with us. Over the years, it grew into not wanting to visit him because I didn’t feel comfortable around his wife. Then it made its way to anger because I was growing up in a single-parent home when all I wanted was my daddy there. It didn’t help that my brother repeatedly told that me that our daddy was more his than mine because they lived together. To add insult to injury, he took papers out on me for stealing a car that he bought me. Luckily, my record was cleared. That was the last straw; we never recovered. Hell, I was already hanging on by a thread as is. I tried to take it all like a champ, or so I thought until the emotions I had tucked away showed themselves in how I existed in relationships.
Daddy Issues + Trust
I had serious trust issues and they turned me into a control freak. I wanted, I needed to be in control. So, on one side I was paranoid that he would hurt me and then I’d pick fights so I could control the despair. Sounds crazy, I know. I had to snap out of it; I was more comfortable making my space miserable if it meant I controlled the misery. And, that’s what I did. Those two failed relationships I mentioned, I walked away from them both because I had an unrealistic fear that they’d walk away from me. I won, or that’s what I told myself.
Daddy Issues + Separation
Because I expected relationships to be short lived, I hated being apart. I needed to spend as much time with him as possible. I wasn’t able to process what I was doing until my current relationship. I knew that I hated saying goodbye and that when I had to if things weren’t perfect, it would send me into a tizzy. I would overanalyze everything. Replaying conversations in my mind, like that doesn’t add up. When in reality there was nothing to add. I was holding my mate responsible for making right the things my past had wronged; the things I hadn’t dealt with. I wanted his constant attention and affection. I wanted him to always be there for me because I felt deserted.
It took some time to understand what I was doing but once I did, I knew I had to stop. I was hanging up my bag; no more carrying around my damage. Instead, I accepted that I had issues and I was determined to give myself the love I thought I was missing. Above all, I’d rather spend my days happy rather than miserable, awaiting disappointment that may never come.