In 2015, after 22 years, my abuser silently packed his things and moved out of my home while I lived out of a hotel across the street. On January 1st of 2016, I burst into tears because all I could think about was, "I wonder what he had for dinner." It was at this moment, when I was reminded of my abuser & reminded of his humanity. It was at this moment that I began my healing process. I wrote this letter at 2am & let it go.
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I now know that my self-worth is not dependent on the love I receive from others.
Dear Dad,
The past 22 years have been difficult. But I remember telling myself that the most difficult of obstacles that I would ever have to encounter were long gone. When I’d write letters or speeches to help inspire people to continue on when things got difficult, I’d always refer to my early teenage years as ‘rock bottom.’ But I guess rock bottom can always be redefined as we go along. Dad, I remember always being so terrified of relapsing and experiencing the debilitating depression I felt when I was 12 years old. But I found that perhaps 2015 was the year that I’d learn how to face my fears. And although this was the most difficult year I have encountered thus far, I discovered a resilience within myself that I thought I never had.
Dad, if you ever knew me well enough, you’d remember that I was probably your most difficult child. Perhaps that’s because I grew up to be just like the mother of your children - strong-willed, opinionated, and unable to accept mediocrity. And while I think that these were some of the most wonderful things that I’ve developed, I found that perhaps they were also the most difficult to contain. It was this combination of characteristics that kept me grasping ever so tightly onto an unattainable image or idea of what our family should have or could have been. And perhaps that unwavering sense of determination was what ultimately led me to experience disappointment in its cruelest form.
Dad, if there’s anything that I have learned through all of this, it is that I am beyond capable. Do you remember that time when I was 5 years old and learning to ride a bike? I wanted to take those training wheels off so badly. But you said, “No, San. You’ll hurt yourself.” So I stole your screwdriver and took the training wheels off myself. I fell off my bike and scraped my hands and knees, but I dusted myself off and eventually rode my bike all around the house. Just to prove to you that I did it, even when you said I couldn’t. Do you remember when you told me I wouldn’t be able to get into a good school? And that I wouldn’t be smart or successful enough? You have no idea how many times I wanted to quit just in 2015. But I did it Dad. I’m graduating in the spring. Even when you said I couldn’t.
Dad, when I was younger, I was so quick to tell myself that I hated you. And I’m ashamed to admit that at times, you made my blood boil. I’d lie awake at night asking myself why I never seemed to be good enough, why I couldn’t be ‘daddy’s girl,’ or why you let me sit by myself and watch all my friends lovingly hold their fathers during a daddy/daughter dance in the 8th grade. I was so young, asking myself, ‘what do they have that I don’t?’ And I found that perhaps that was a question I would not be able to answer until 2015.
Dad, I finally answered that question when you packed your bags and moved out this year. And I discovered that the question was not about what they had that I didn’t, but rather what I have that they do not. And it’s a deeper and more robust understanding of how not to love my children. Dad, I spent the last 22 years thinking to myself, ‘If I weren’t such a burden...” “If I were smarter...” “If I were prettier…” etc. I kept thinking, “If I…..” hoping that perhaps a change in me would elicit a change in you. But I now realize that this was not at all the case. And it had nothing to do with whether or not I was smart enough, pretty enough, or less burdensome. But all to do with what I believed about myself. Dad, I learned that my self-worth is not dependent on the love I receive from others, but on the love that I give to myself.
Dad, one of the most difficult but beautiful things that I had to learn how to tell myself throughout this entire process was, ‘I love my dad.’ Because I found that in being able to tell myself that, I was also able to love that part of me that I hated so much for such a long time.
Dad, if there is anything that I want for you this year, it is for you to learn to love yourself in the way that I have learned to love myself. And I hope that you find that sense of peace that I hope to bring with me into 2016. Because Dad, you deserve it. You deserve all of it. And maybe you didn’t know how to love me, but I wish that you be able to learn how to love yourself. Because Dad, you are worthy of happiness just as much as anybody else is. You are worthy of the happiness that you never seemed to have. And Dad, I hope that you discover the single most important lesson that you taught me….that your self-worth is not dependent on the love you receive from others, but rather the love that you are able to give yourself.
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If you or a loved one are experiencing domestic violence, please contact the domestic violence hotline at 1 (800) 799 - SAFE. You are not alone.