Before I start this post I would just like to say that this one is going to be pretty personal. It is not to get sympathy comments of anything like that, it’s just something I would like to get off my chest. Which is the whole point of this blog. So if you don’t want to know a whole lot about my personal life then read at your own risk.
I recently watched a video of an actor I admire, Misha Collins. He announced that he was going to Japan for a Supernatural panel. He had his daughter with him and at the end they had the most adorable moment. It was just a dad with his little girl and it made me smile.
Afterwards, however, it made me think and I discovered something. I, for the life of me, cannot remember a time when my dad was like that with me. I just can’t remember it. I used to think that I was a daddy’s girl but maybe I wasn’t. I don’t talk to my dad at all anymore, I haven’t even seen him in two or three years. All I can remember is how much he scared me.
My dad drank a lot (and I use past tense only because I haven’t been around him lately to know now) and he would lose control. He had bad anger management skills while he was sober, so when he was drunk…well you can just imagine. He never hit me, but he hit my mom and he was a master at the verbal and emotional abuse. That’s all I can remember now.
I can’t remember a smile or a hug or if he carried me to bed late at night. I remember living at a distance from him. Not trusting him enough to get too close. I’m not sure if there is a “final thought” from me with this. I don’t know if I’ve learned anything that can help you, the reader, if anyone of you are even reading this. This is just something that I needn’t to write, to get out of my head.