I’m not sure what I feel towards my father, but I know It’s not love.
Tonight I was thinking of my father. He passed away when I was 8 years old. Therefore I can’t really form a coherent stand towards him.
I’ve never shared this out loud, frankly it’s the first time I’m diving into those thoughts myself.
My father married another woman. Not surprising, as far as my child memory can go, I don’t have a single memory of my mom and dad being together. Despite being married on paper “for kids” (which is common in my background) i never remember them ever sleeping in the same room.
And yes, he married another woman, she was a nice lady looking to build a life too, I don’t carry any grudge towards her. But my father, he hated working, he didn’t have money because he’d rather spend his time and money recklessly instead of trying to support his family.
I can still vividly remember moments of my parents fighting over financial problems and father’s irresponsibility. And the feeling of helplessness I faced in front of every financial situation we encountered still haunts me till this day.
I would try to find ways to cut off expenses as much as I could. We even have a “funny memory” my mom tells about me proposing a plan to change our meal timings in a way that makes skip a meal to have 2 meals instead of 3 each day so we can save money on food. Yes, they call it a funny memory now.
A couple of years later, my mother gets married again as well, naturally and I was actually on her side as a 12 years old kid. Unfortunately, her 2nd husband was no better than the first.. the difference is tho, this time I was a little older to witness what was happening in the household.
My mom who worked hard to fill the financial gap my father left, had to do it on the expense of being emotionally uninvolved in her two kids life.
I don’t blame her, she did the best she could. In fact im not even mad at my father or stepfather (who she later divorced).
I can’t even be mad at anyone and I don’t know why. Maybe because I know being mad won’t solve anything, it won’t fix the financial problems we had, it wont pay the overdue bills my mom worked hard to cover on the cost of her emotional presence with me. And most certainly it wont help young me skip that meal and save money on food.
I’m 22 years old now, I look back at all of this, and I seem to be prisoned in that 8 years old version of me.
Refusing everything my father used to do, trying my hardest not to be like him. I have never put a cigarette in my mouth, many people are surprised and praises my will power. Meanwhile, even if I don’t admit it consciously, I know that I refused it because it reminds me of my father. The thought of me smoking cigarettes like he used to do disgusts me. And so on for most of the things he did.
I never had a father to look up to, I had one to look away from.
I look at myself these days, drowning myself in work and projects, working hard to not need anything from anyone in my life. I’d wish to say it’s ambition and desire for success. But I know more than anyone, it’s my inner child desperately trying to escape the version of himself where he was weak and helpless.