I am your first born, your only daughter and apparently I am also your pride and joy. However I was never your son and shall never pass on the family name and I know for a fact this is a reason why you were never there.
I was going through photo albums of my childhood the other day and there were so many photos of us, you were smiling and we looked like we were having a blast. But then I remember how you tarnished my happiness with anger and violence – an array of moments left in the back of the closet by everyone – even mum.
As I grew older, you grew further away – you resented me despite my invitation to partake in my life. I invited you to my sweet sixteenth birthday and you opted to sleep through it. You flew overseas during my biggest operation to date and didn’t assist mum during my rehabilitation but rather frowned at me as you watched me gain weight and loathe myself. I invited you to my debutante ball and you refused to come unless mum paid for your ticket and even then, you refused to do the father daughter dance with me. On my eighteenth birthday, you left the country for a reason I have no knowledge of – but you failed me once again. However by some miracle, you managed to wine and dine at my twenty-first birthday without a single complaint which shocked me the most.
You were never there.
My fondest memories of you include watching you corner mum in the kitchen whilst clenching a knife in your hand, having you throw a chair at me for failing to understand a math equation and chasing my eight year old brother up the street as he ran away crying with a blood nose after you punched him.
As I grew older, I learnt to dislike you. I never thought of you as a role model or a loving and caring father – you are just someone I share genes with.
Your eldest son adored you, you can just tell. The two of you are like two peas in a pod and despite all the wrong you have done, he is probably the last one to love you as a father but you let him down. You failed to show your face at his twenty-first birthday party and it killed him, shattered his heart. You let yourself hit rock bottom and he made sure you knew it.
Dad, you need help and we have insisted upon it for a few years now. Your inability to recognise and understand our concerns and frustrations is beginning to tire us to the point of not caring – you are a depressed recluse.
You have no job, no social life and you sit in your bedroom day-in day-out.
Your response to every questions is “I don’t know” and you pride yourself on never accepting assistance which has affected all of us more than you know. When you speak of self-harm, it is no shock. We cannot help those who refuse to be helped, we cannot cure your depression if you’re not willing to take the first step and seek help.
You lie to mum constantly, you fight all the time. Why is it you can never give her the answer she is seeking?
You’ve let your eldest son down, you’ve let your wife down and most of all, you leg yourself down.
You’ve driven yourself into a life of reclusive behaviour because you refuse to ask for help and it’s no ones fault but your own but you fail to realise this.
We – as a family – have shed enough tears over you to fill an Olympic swimming pool. You need to pull your head out of your ass and deal with your problems head on – go get a damn job.
I do hope you get better, but I’ll never love you like my three-year-old self did.
Your long-lost daughter