When Father is Synonymous with Failure

When Father is Synonymous with Failure

War. Constant war. Never ending battles I didn’t intend to fight.

They say to never bring a knife to a gunfight, but I showed up unarmed.

The danger ahead of me never crossed my mind.

I thought family meant safety, love, kindness.

Instead I was met with hate and cruelty and abuse.

He damaged me.

Degraded, hurt, used, attacked, unwanted.

A punch to the face would’ve hurt less than the damage he inflicted on my mind.

Suicidal. Depressed. Damaged.

That’s what I was.

What more can I say?

I knew it was over the day my little sister told me she tried to kill herself.

Her damage was even deeper than mine.

She tried to end the pain, the suffering, the cruelty.

But the thing about suffocation is that you lose consciousness and can’t carry out the deed.

Tired. Helpless. Alone. Afraid.

That’s what I was.

Years of torture, and all for what?

So he can relieve some stress and take his anger out on us.

He was a failure.

No education, simple job, two accidents of children, a hateful wife.

He failed.

Not just as a man, but as a father.

He didn’t teach me to ride a bike, never took me to a Daddy-Daughter dance,

He didn’t protect me or care for me when I was sick or hold me.

He abused me.

I was abused.

That’s what I was.

A caring soul.

A future wife and mother.

A humanitarian.

A college educated young woman.

A brave warrior.

A success.

That’s what I am.