Fatherless..

 
I grew up not knowing my father and to think of it, I have only spoken to him on the phone maybe 3-4 times throughout my life. The last time being more than 5 years ago. I remember promises of Disney Land and hearing that I had a sister and a brother. He was married and has since remarried. When I was 4 or 5, I remember crying at night wondering why my daddy didn't love me. It still hurts to ask that question and not know the answer. To wonder why wasn't I good enough to call at least once a year on my birthday. Why wasn't I worthy of him being around? What did I do? I had all these questions at 5.


I will never forget that night because as I cried my heart and soul out, I remember not wanting to share why I felt so hurt, unloved, and sad to my mom who only found out because she threatened to beat me. I look back and I can not understand how in the back of her mind she thought threatening me was a better route than just holding me, telling me she loved me, and whatever was hurting me would be okay. I don't fault her because it made me want to be a better parent to my kids.


I have dealt with the pain and thoughts of not feeling worthy of love many of times. My failed relationships with men and being misused by them has left me still longing for love, love of my father, and still in a rebuilding phase of me as a woman and that little girl inside who still cries when she thinks about her daddy not loving her.


17 years later, I still cry when I think about it. I pray for forgiveness and I continue to pray for help to forgive him. I have been praying for years now that I can let it go. Growing up, I had so much anger. Thought about suicide so many times. It was only until I thought about who would find my body and the tears that would ensue that I put the knife down. At 10, I already knew to cut along the vein. I didn't want to be tolerated any more while everyone around me was being loved. I didn't want to be forgotten and pushed to the side while my daddy had a new life and children who got to see him everyday, and my mom was busy mothering my cousin, and I was busy trying to escape my life. It's painful to even write the truth of how I felt. To admit that I wanted to die. I felt ugly, fat, friendless, unloved, uncared about, and I was expected to feel the opposite of all of these things. I was expected to be happy when I wasn't and couldn't be. I was always scorned for crying, but I needed to release all of the pain inside.



I cried many of nights. Cried my eyes out. I don't think people realize how blessed they are to have a father. A dad! I remember interning last semester and at the end of my internship, one of the older men who I had spent a great deal of time with gave me a giant hug. The Senator I interned for gave me a kiss on the forehead and a hug. This man was tough on me my entire internship, touch love! But later on, I realized that I had discovered what it felt like to have a father. The love that I had missed out on. The stories. The tough love. The interrogations of boyfriends. The feeling of being protected from harm. I missed all of that and I don't know if I will ever experience it. That hurts!



Every fatherless child's experience is different. Coupled with other circumstances some prevail. Others fall victim to life. The feelings that I had when I was 5 still sit with me today. I struggle with them, but I am surviving my battle. I fight every day to become better. To love with all my heart and know I am worthy of all the love I am to receive. To enjoy life and not focus on the pain. Laugh. Smile. To know and understand I am worth more than rubies, gold, or oil. I am priceless and the value of my worth can not be monetized.


Fatherless.. I have struggled for too long with my demons. I will win. I am winning. The fight is not over, but the battle I will win.


So, when you see me and I look sad, mad, or have a frown. You now know that it is from the sadness and the unhappiness I fought with as a child. To be happy when my world around me wanted to repress my happiness and told me happy didn't exist for Black little girls like me. Doesn't mean I am not happy on the inside, but my frown is permanent and I wish I could change it. Maybe, surgery. (I kid!)



The revisiting of this pain comes  from meditating on a facebook message that was sent to be my father that simply said: "When you're ready, call...." I was ready all my life, but after reading that message I'm not so sure I'm ready any more. 20 years later and you reach out now. After all these years, now you want to talk, but why should I as the child I have to call the parent. I'm not even sure how to feel about this. I have no idea at all where to even go from here. I just don't know anything anymore. I don't know.



This is my life as Jackson.