Letter to my Dad

I often like to employ the old, "write a letter to someone and don't send it" therapy ploy to help myself deal with emotions that would otherwise go ignored.  Here's a letter I've written for my dad.  No list items today. :)

Dad,

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about various things from my childhood.  I’m writing you a letter instead of talking to you because I don’t want you to feel like I’m accusing you of anything or that I’m blaming you.

The incident that has been most prevalent in my mind happened while we were living on Jeri.  I was 10 or 11 and Shawn came over to our house with Ashley.  I remember she was old enough to walk and a little chatter.  Anyway, Shawn said he wanted to talk to you and asked that I watch Ashley.  I remember playing with her in the backyard, but she wanted her dad really bad.  She managed to wiggle free of me and ran into the house.  I chased after her, but didn’t catch up until she’d already gotten to Shawn.  I reached in to grab her and take her back outside when Shawn said, “How am I supposed to talk to your dad with your fat body in the way??”

I was mortified.  I remember looking at you, thinking you’d say something to him because that was not okay.  But you just looked back at me.  I was 10 or so, I didn’t know what was going on and still have no idea.  I’ve always wondered though, why didn’t you stand up for me?  Why didn’t you tell him it wasn’t okay to say something like that to your 10 year old daughter?  Why did you silently agree with him that I was less than and send me on my way with a crying baby?  Didn’t I deserve protection?  Didn’t you love me and want people to be respectful?

I feel like I’ve tried my whole life to do one thing that you’d be proud of me for.  Just one little thing that would make you love me.  No matter what I do that love is never offered.  So there are two possibilities.  One, it’s me.  I’m unloveable.  Or two, it’s you.  You can’t give what you don’t have.  I feel like you’ve always liked me, but you’ve never loved me.  You’d yell at me, spank me, and send me to bed early if I talked back to mom, but Shawn disrespects me and you just sit there.  Why didn’t Shawn deserve to be yelled at?

Now, I don’t feel like anyone cares for me.  I don’t feel like anyone loves me.  Not you, not mom, not even Jon.  I feel like a huge screw-up, that I can’t do anything right by anyone, and that no one wants to be with me or even needs me.  I’m not important to anyone.  I think I could disappear tomorrow and no one would care.  Why is it okay for me to feel like this?  Why don’t I deserve to be loved or to matter?  That’s really not okay.  I don’t know if I can be friends with you or be around you.  We’ll have to see what the future holds.

Sincerely,

Becki