I've always known that my dad and I had issues. We never got along like he did with my sisters. He took me along to do all the work, but never played with me. Our relationship was always strained. He was always obsessed with my weight and dieting, suggesting I have weight loss surgery.
In the past few weeks I've learned more about my dad than I probably ever wanted to know. First it was that he cheated on my mom. I got through that one. But recently it was that he had a pornography problem.
My first thought? "That explains a lot. I'm not pretty enough. That is why he didn't like me."
Seriously, that was my first thought. How sad is that.
During therapy today it was suggested that your dad is kind of like your first boyfriend. From him you learn what kind of treatment you deserve, how men should speak to women from experience or from watching him speak to your mom, and even what relationships look like in general.
Tears streamed down my face as my therapist described this analogy and related a story to me, because -- it's true. Your dad is kind of like your first boyfriend.
And these are the results of that in my life:
-- Every man I've dated has been an addict. Two of which I met while acting out. Three of which know nothing about my addiction, nor did I act out with them. If given up a line-up of men, I seem to always pick the addict.
-- Even the friends I choose have addiction in their lives. T's husband has a serious porn addiction, L's battling her own food addiction, M has his own battle with sexuality, E has sexual abuse in her past and is not sexual anorexic. You could say that addiction is just that common, and I believe that is true. But seriously, I pick broken people without even knowing they're broken.
-- Every sexual experience I have ever had has been addictive.
-- I started my addiction using sexuality to attract and retain men in my life because nothing else worked and I didn't feel attractive.
-- I used sexuality as a solution to any argument or difference of opinion I had with men.
But I think the hardest ones to examine are how I feel because of what I learned from him:
-- I don't believe I am worthy of a relationship. I don't feel like a man would ever choose to be with me for the rest of my life because of the way I look.
When it comes down to it, I want a man to choose to be with me. No man, ever in my life, has made that choice.
I've tied all of this up in my appearance. It's what I use as the reason and excuse that men don't choose me. As I've been thinking about dating and have felt lonely recently, this has become a bigger issue than it was before.
There is a John Mayer song -- "Daughters" -- that I've had a love/hate relationship with. I enjoy the song, but remember someone once telling me how unrealistic it is. But today, it has new meaning:
You see that sin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left, cleaning up the mess he made
My dad didn't physically leave our family, but emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually he left our family years and years ago. My mom turned to me to fill the void and I became the family rescuer. At 7 -- on a hike with the family, he took a nap and left me responsible for the 4 little kids at the lake. At 8 -- he made me cut a fishing hook out of my brothers head because he couldn't handle blood. At 9 -- I was responsible for cleaning the carpets with the big hot water machine. At 13 -- I threw a paper route to support the family. At 16 -- I wrote my dad's resume and cover letter for a job he wanted. At 35 -- I moved home and took care of him until he died from cancer, changing his diapers, showering him, picking him up off the ground when he fell. And now, at 37 -- I'm cleaning up after him again, trying to help my mom sort out the emotional mess he left with her, and my own emotional baggage.
The major problem comes from the fact that he is my dad and not just a boyfriend. I could break up with a boyfriend. How do you break up with your dead father?
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