Candice Marie

My first memory of my dad was meeting him when I was 5 years old. He stopped by the house and at first I was shy, holding on to my mom's leg but by the time he left I was excited to have a dad. Before that day, I didn't know anything was missing. I didn't even know to want a dad. But that day, I was excited to find out that I had one. So excited that I went to my room and drew him a picture. I remember rolling it up and putting it on the shelf and waiting for him to come back. When I was 12, I remember finding it and throwing it away.

I've come to realized over the years that I have rejection and abandonment issues and it's been so interesting to see how it shows up... in insecurity, in food addiction, in a season in 2022 (post pandemic) when I found myself using travel like a drug where I was chasing highs, in constantly questioning my self worth, in feeling unlovable, unwanted, unworthy... I call it all the uns.

I decided when I was 29 (2009) that I wanted to meet my father. He showed up, we talked, I left hopeful. Over the years we communicated a little over phone and text, I went to his birthday party in Alexandria, LA and met some siblings I had never met, he came to visit me in Baton Rouge in 2017 when I bought my house. I took what I could get, whatever he was willing to give, whatever felt safe that I didn't have to beg for as a way of protecting myself from disappointment but I always longed for more.

One night about a year ago, I was feeling kinda down and for some reason I called him. We talked for a while. It was actually a really good conversation. What I would imagine a normal father / daughter conversation might be like. He remembered things that I didn't think he would and I remember feeling like I'm not as insignificant to him as I thought I was. He asked about the guy I was dating when he came to BR in 2017 (he was actually my first boyfriend). I told him it didn't work out. He said, "yea, I figured that", and we laughed.

Continued in comments...