Currently listening to…
The last time I saw my dad was at a funeral on my 29th birthday. It wasn’t his funeral, but I’ve spent the last year mourning his presence in my life as if it was. Have you ever thought about how much of being considered a “good dad” is simply being present? It’s unfair, really. The standard that I hold my mother, my friends and acquaintances, and even my dogs to surpasses mere presence. It’s why I often say that being a good dad is one of the easiest things in the world to be. Maybe that’s true or maybe that’s a misguided opinion. Either way, between breakdowns at brunch and seemingly inexplicable tears falling when I’m asked about my dad, I’ve learned through sharing my experience that many of my peers, colleagues, friends, and family also have emotionally absent or physically absent fathers. Some of them are absent due to unfortunate timing, circumstance, or ignorance. Some of them, like mine, are absent by choice.
If being a good dad is such an easy thing to be, why is it that so many men aren't? That question was the natural foundation for what this post was originally going to be. Maybe I’ll write that post one day but today, on Father’s Day, I didn’t want to write about my dad or anyone’s dad. Instead, I wanted to write about all the things I’ve had to learn in order to overcome the feelings of abandonment and extreme unworthiness that came up after my dad deleted me from his life. In the not-so-rare chance that you’re experiencing something similar to me, I hope this list helps you.
Happy Father’s Day to us.
Go to therapy (if you can)
This is first because it’s obvious. I realize therapy requires time, money, and health insurance that a lot of people (including me at various points in my life) do not have. However, considerations aside, therapy has helped me see my dad as a whole person outside of his identity as just my dad. Without that separation, I took everything he did (or didn’t do) deeply personally. I asked unanswerable questions that led to unreasonable behaviors in an unproductive effort to change parts of myself so that, theoretically, I’d be good enough for fatherly love, attention, and presence. It is because of regular therapy that I now know how to identify the toxic urge to turn his attention, or lack thereof, inward and resist the destructive behaviors that can result.
My therapist often asks me how I offer nurturing, protection, and stability (qualities one might expect from a father) to the teenager I once was dealing with similar feelings of abandonment from my dad. This thought exercise is what helped me come up with the majority of this list and brings me to…
Channel your inner child and let her play
Being instructed to take care of younger versions of myself was difficult at first but it’s been paramount to my healing. When I was growing up, my dad loved drinking bottled cream soda. Soda (and sugary calories in general, if I’m being honest) was something I learned to stay away from as I got older and more aware of what society expects my body to look like. Now, I take genuine pleasure in ordering cream soda in the bottle at local restaurants that carry it. It brings back happy memories of my dad and reminds me of a simpler time in my life when I didn’t use deprivation as a way to exercise control.
Other ways I channel my inner child:
I framed a self-portrait I made in my third-grade art class. (Ironically, the frame was given to me by my dad.) It’s an easy extension of the younger version of me and doubles as art for my bedroom. If you don’t have a self-portrait from when you were young, a framed photo of yourself as a child works too. (I have both!)
I found a necklace I made from a bead kit when I was a kid and hung it on the rearview mirror in my car.
I keep old journals and read them when I feel disconnected or lacking. Almost always, it occurs to me that younger me would think I turned out really fucking cool.
Be openly proud of yourself
One of the things I miss the most about my dad is hearing him tell me how proud he is of me. I’m an oldest daughter who hoards metaphorical (and sometimes actual) gold stars. Somehow, everyone in the world could be cheering for me but it means the most coming from my dad. I supplement that now by being proud of myself out loud, alone and in front of others.
Analyze your relationship with male attention
This one is tough, but important. It’s so easy to fall into patterns replaying old dynamics in an effort to psychologically repair them. Just make sure you’re not offloading unreasonable expectations in your other relationships. Ideally, fatherly love comes from a father figure but I’m making the case here that it’s possible to supplement from within in a way that’s personally fulfilling. If you find yourself seeking it out in attention from strangers, you’ve reached the danger zone. The only thing on the other side is disappointment.
Take comfort in dad discourse
Lately, I’ve been stuck in a weird mindset where I’ve convinced myself that my dad will reach out to repair our relationship if I get a book deal. Just typing that sentence feels preposterous. Of course, I realize the two are unrelated — see above point about replaying old dynamics. I counteract this thinking by telling myself that a book deal will not fix my relationship with my dad and that publishing success will not make me any more or less lovable. The songs I listed at the top of this post are great examples of what I consider “dad discourse” but it exists in more than just music.
Halsey has a lyric in her song, “929” that helps me break the internal connection I’ve created between a potential book deal and attention from my dad.
And I've stared at the sky in Milwaukee
And hoped that my father would finally call me
A record deal, international pop success, and what was probably a sold-out show in Milwaukee did not make Halsey’s dad call her so maybe I don’t have to hinge the entirety of my self-worth on a book deal, right?
Next up, Kendrick Lamar’s new therapy album is helping me through more than just my daddy issues.
And to my partners that figured it out without a father
I salute you, may your blessings be neutral to your toddlers
And finally, vintage Eminem not only sounds like my childhood, but these lyrics feel especially relevant to me right now.
And when I'm gone just carry on don't mourn
Rejoice every time you hear the sound of my voice, just know that
I'm lookin' down on you smilin'
And I didn't feel a thing so baby, don't feel no pain, just smile back
Create a safe space
I used to stand on the front porch with my dad and watch the rain. Like clockwork, I’d hear the heavy summer rain start to pour on our metal roof and listen for the sound of the front door opening before I ran downstairs to join him. I still do this on the balcony of my apartment. The sound of the rain comforts me and makes me feel safe even though my dad is no longer standing next to me.
Be a dad to your friends when they need it
I talk openly with my friends and family about missing my dad and all the ways I wish things were different between us, and they talk back about their experiences with their dads. Tell your friends that you’re proud of them and explain why. Let your inner child play with theirs. Share with them the things that bring you comfort and invite them to share with you. If I’m right that being a good dad is one of the easiest things in the world to be, I hope you use this list to fill your own cup and then let it spill over to help the people around you.
Rinse, repeat
Cry about it if you need to. Write about it if that’s your thing. On days like today when the hurt is an especially hard thing, know that I’m really proud of you.