Dear Father,

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I’m not sure what your relationship with my mother was like before I was born. She told me you weren’t at the hospital when I arrived, which makes me think you two weren’t in a real relationship. I have a lot of memories of you and your sisters, but none of you ever knew the hurt I experienced at home. I never told you, but sometimes I was afraid to go back. I never knew what to expect, so I was always on high alert.

One of the women you were with once told my mother that I stayed up late. She didn’t know who she was talking to, but I caught how she looked at me and knew I was in trouble. Her words pierced me during the drive home—it felt like I was hemorrhaging, and my tears mixed with the pain. I never spent a summer with you while she was around again. It was also through her that I learned my mother tried to give me to you. Allegedly, your mom told you not to take me. I ended up caught between two people who weren’t ready to be parents, and I suffered for it. Neither of you wanted me; that truth weighed on me for decades.

I’m glad you’re a family man now. Your wife, her children, and my brother are experiencing a side of you I always wanted. But when my mother attacked me, ran back home, and told everyone I was the problem, I had nowhere to go. No one would take me in, so I rented a mobile home behind a hotel in Woodville. You came to visit us there, and that’s when you found out what I endured at the hands of my mother. I explained why my baby and I ended up in such conditions. Did it ever occur to you to take us in? I’m your firstborn, and that was your first granddaughter.

Instead, you gave me $100 for another week in a place where I couldn’t rest because someone kept breaking in every time I left. The staff did nothing about it. My mother worked hard to keep me down, and you didn’t help me get back up. Why was I never enough for either of you?

It saddens me that I won't hear from you if I don’t pick up the phone to call you. One of the children you’ve yet to cultivate a relationship with is me. You think I should pursue you because you’re the parent. I used to think you’d be the one I could rely on, the parent I’d have a connection with. But that hasn’t happened.

I’ve accepted that you have your family now, and that’s where your focus is. No man in my life has ever protected me psychologically, and that started with you. Even when I shared my pain points, you never made an effort to step in or save me. Both you and my mother taught me the hard way that no one is coming to save me. I’ve faced things neither of you will ever know about, and through it all, I had to save myself because I didn’t have parents I could cry to for help.

I’m tired of figuring out so much on my own. I no longer have the energy to pick up the phone and force what isn’t there. Where were you when I was pregnant, barely with a place to lay my head? Where were you when my mother fought me and made sure no one would let me and my baby stay with them? I had to discard many of my belongings because my small car could only hold so much.

Speaking of cars, why didn’t you help me get one?

I am an adult now, with an adult child of my own. I made it to this point in one piece, so I need nothing else from you. At this stage, having a relationship with you won’t make or break me. I’ve decided to release you. You have your family, and I have mine. Take care of yourself.

If you’re anything like my mother, you’ll assume I hate you because I’m choosing to let go. But I don’t hate anyone. I’m simply choosing myself and refusing to allow my parents to keep breaking my heart.


Signed, The Rejected Firstborn


                       From Pit to Purpose: Recovering After Emotional Setbacks Workbook

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