a month ago
91
21
Posted On: June 21st 2026, 04:40 pm
my dad taught me a lot of things.
he taught me how to save money. he taught me how to polish my shoes.
he taught me how to make scrambled egg in the microwave. (and, consequently, why you shouldn’t make scrambled egg in the microwave because it stinks the fucking house down.)
but he also taught me fear. and humiliation.
he taught me how to stand up to the bullies at school. the jabs they threw at me drew no blood, because i had a worse bully at home – with a much crueler repertoire of insults.
he taught me that the people who are supposed to care for you and protect you won’t. that you’re on your own in this world and nobody is coming to save you.
he taught me my best would never be good enough. that even when i’ve given all i’ve got people will still want more from you.
he taught me how to tolerate abusive people. and how to apologise for things that weren’t my fault. he taught me that even when people treat me like a doormat, I should be grateful – at least they’re paying attention.
and he taught me to hate myself. pure, rancid hatred. a hatred that ran through me like thick black tar. a hatred that would take years to unlearn, and then some.
it’s been over 7 years since i last spoke to my dad. since then, i’ve had a lot to unlearn.
but when i think of the version of me who had to deal with that man, she feels dimensions away. i think that’s my brain’s clever way of dealing with the pain of it. to push it so deep into my memory that it doesn’t feel like mine. so that’s where i kept it.
for the last seven years, I’ve pretended father’s day didn’t exist. I never got a father who protected me, who cared for me, who supported me and kept me safe. the reminder of that was too heavy to bear.
but this year, after reflecting on all of this, i chose to use this day to celebrate the person who DID do those things. the person who helped me escape. then picked up the pieces and put them back together again with spit and super glue.
*Me. I did that. i’m the daddy now. xo
* with some help ofc
he taught me how to save money. he taught me how to polish my shoes.
he taught me how to make scrambled egg in the microwave. (and, consequently, why you shouldn’t make scrambled egg in the microwave because it stinks the fucking house down.)
but he also taught me fear. and humiliation.
he taught me how to stand up to the bullies at school. the jabs they threw at me drew no blood, because i had a worse bully at home – with a much crueler repertoire of insults.
he taught me that the people who are supposed to care for you and protect you won’t. that you’re on your own in this world and nobody is coming to save you.
he taught me my best would never be good enough. that even when i’ve given all i’ve got people will still want more from you.
he taught me how to tolerate abusive people. and how to apologise for things that weren’t my fault. he taught me that even when people treat me like a doormat, I should be grateful – at least they’re paying attention.
and he taught me to hate myself. pure, rancid hatred. a hatred that ran through me like thick black tar. a hatred that would take years to unlearn, and then some.
it’s been over 7 years since i last spoke to my dad. since then, i’ve had a lot to unlearn.
but when i think of the version of me who had to deal with that man, she feels dimensions away. i think that’s my brain’s clever way of dealing with the pain of it. to push it so deep into my memory that it doesn’t feel like mine. so that’s where i kept it.
for the last seven years, I’ve pretended father’s day didn’t exist. I never got a father who protected me, who cared for me, who supported me and kept me safe. the reminder of that was too heavy to bear.
but this year, after reflecting on all of this, i chose to use this day to celebrate the person who DID do those things. the person who helped me escape. then picked up the pieces and put them back together again with spit and super glue.
*Me. I did that. i’m the daddy now. xo
* with some help ofc
Comments (21)
More posts
