Dady's Girl

I always wanted to be the little girl who sat in the back of one of those little wagons attached to a bike, while her dad pulled her around in it. I've always wanted to go horseback riding like Hallie does with her dad in The Parent Trap. I dreamed of the dad who would take my brother and I camping, sailing, and surfing. I envied the girls who had that one person they could always rely on. And for me, it was supposed to be my dad. 

It didn't take me long to realize that my father wasn't like other fathers. From a young age, I noticed that he was always tired-exhausted, really, from his personal matters and was always found dozing off in the corner. He seemed like he was always in his own world, zoning out and staring into space. He seemed frantic all the time, not knowing when I could approach him or what I had to say was worth listening to. It was hard to know his mood and how it would affect me during the day. I learned to be good at observing people from a young age, deciphering my father like a puzzle the day I grew conscious. 

When we do talk, he doesn't seem to know many of my favorite books or what they were about, why I was so passionate about art, or even the short stories I've written. I am constantly worried he can't hear a single thing I am saying, poking or shaking him to make sure he is attentively listening to me. 

I know I'm not a boring daughter. I'm not. I'm always outside, constantly active or reading the next new novel, meeting new friends, trying new hobbies, always wanting to do the next big thing. I have thoughts and ideas about the world, reflections about myself, and about my life. It's a shame that my father doesn't have the ability to get to know me. And I just wonder if I was ever worthy of being listened to. 

A few happy memories of my dad stuck with me and one of them was that he would sing "Joanna" by Kool and the Gang to me. He changed Joanna to Karina, and those were the rare moments that I felt truly loved. 

I didn't have many adults to talk to as a child. I was alone a lot, as any child of working-middle-class parents would be. I relied on my grandfather as a substitute for my father. And for a while, things felt good. I needed a stable father figure in my life and my grandfather was always there, listening to my stories after school, taking care of me when I was sick, walking Penny with me, and taking me to pick vegetables and fruits around town. He didn't do much since he was very aloof but it still felt genuine and real to me. We were always both alone, with not many friends or family to connect with. So we stuck by each other. 

One summer, I packed two sandwiches, fruits, and water for us to enjoy at the park. I remember it being very peaceful as my grandpa fell asleep on the blanket after lunch, and I read my book. 

It wasn't long until cancer took him away. 

So for 9 years now, I've been kind of alone. A half-present father, a full-time working mother, a distant brother. I go out and make good friends to boost my energy, and I even try looking for older adults to be friends with, to rely on. I swim, I do pilates, I do yoga, I dogsit, I babysit, I go to school, I attend painting lessons. 

But it's never enough. 

Because the little girl Karina, who is still inside me, still longs for the attention, love, and care she barely received as a child. It's something everyone wants- to be recognized, special, cared for, and deemed worthy. Maybe that's why I have such a strong fear of abandonment. 

Many times, I act out on my dad, hysterically yelling and screaming at him for not trying to help my brother before he attempted to take his own life. Blaming him for being so naive, ignorant, and negligent for not paying enough attention to their children. I feel like I always lose control, demonic almost, with the suffering I've endured as a child erupting inside me. I was livid, not at him, but at our situation. 

Through it all, I never found resentment towards my dad, nor do I hate him. Never resented my father for being absent-minded and carried away by his own struggles. Never hated him for how he raised me and my brother. Never resented him for never listening to me and brushing me off. Never hated him for being irritable and angry. Never resented him for never being able to rely on him. 

I mostly feel sorry for him.

My parents tried their best to raise my brother and I, and yes, it wasn't perfect but at least they tried. My brother and I are both scarred and burned from childhood pain, but it never stunted our growth, fortunately. 

So forgiveness is key. Because dwelling on resentment or holding grudges will fester into a parasite that will eventually take over you. 

I've learned to build my own empire, meaning I've built myself over the years. I've gained more confidence in myself, gaining the confidence to talk to strangers and make new friends. I learned to give myself affirmations, give myself recognition, give myself compassion and care. I learned to take care for my own emotions, learning new tools as I go to help my mental health. I learned to create my own morals and values, and what it means to be happy. I learned to believe in myself to try new things, chase my dreams of being a teacher. I learn to invest my time in my hobbies as they will always be there for me. I listen to my own thoughts and feelings, taking time to truly get to know me. 

Although it does get lonely at times, I've gotten used to it over the years and I've accepted that this is part of the life I was born into. I didn't choose this life, I just have to make the best out of it. 

To my parents, especially my father, thank you for showing me how to raise my own children. Thank you for teaching me how to treat others with compassion and love. Thank you for giving me a chance to live.