009: Father figures and other mythical creatures
On my daughter-father relationship and how it shaped me as woman
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My dad was born in 1960 in a remote area of Chihuahua, Mexico. He has Raramuri and Spanish blood and grew up in one of the most iconic times in Mexico’s history — but that is a story for another time.
He was an absent dad for most of my childhood until my adolescence. When he would miss our birthdays, my mom would justify him saying that he was out there working hard for our family, earning money for us to be well and enjoy life. I never questioned how my parents ran the show. At the end of the day, we had Mom with us full time and despite not being present, Dad always made sure that we got all the things we wanted for Christmas, and that we made regular trips throughout the year to visit the cousins out of the state, and that we felt loved and special the few days in the month when he was at home.
Dad started to be more present in our lives when I was in high school. My sister and I, already teenagers would go to my mom for permission to go to parties and sleepovers and the occasional begging for curfew extensions. When things changed at his work and he started being home every day, we resented him. We felt like he was invading our home. He also resented the fact that we would go to Mom for everything. Sad and needed a hug? Mom. Failing a class and almost getting kicked out of school? Mom. Permission to go to your best friend’s quinceañera on Saturday? Mom.
The relationship with my dad only declined when he started becoming part of my life. He didn’t know me and I didn’t know him, and neither of us knew how to start a relationship. It didn’t help that my dad is an alcoholic, so his bad days were pretty bad, where he transformed into the devil himself and his good days were great, almost making us forget all his flaws and abuse. I remember some of our worst fights, in times when as the oldest daughter I felt the need to protect my mom from him. I keep all those memories of him screaming to my face and me breaking down to tears, not being able to recognize one bit of the man in front of me.
My relationship with my dad was complicated even before I was born. Surprise, surprise: he wanted a boy. He wanted a boy so much that I was named after him. He would say to me, and everyone in the family, how much he wished I was a boy so he could have someone to help him with business. Instead, I came out of my mom’s womb with a vagina which meant I was destined to do ‘girl things’.
My quest for his approval started when I was a kid in kindergarten. I needed to be adventurous like he was, fearless. Crying was one of the worst weaknesses someone could have. I learned how to ride the horses at our farm, so he could be proud of me. I would get the best grades at school and show him my records, just for him to say that it was my duty and hopefully, I would finish high school without getting pregnant, just like all my step sisters did.
This search for approval extended to all the areas of my life like work and all personal relationships, leaving me empty and exhausted. Never feeling enough of a person, always trying to please whoever asshole who would pay attention to me. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I was able to look myself in the mirror and recognize that in fact, I have what they call daddy issues.
My therapy journey helped a lot and it also helped that my dad stopped his drinking. This allowed everyone in our family and me to know him and establish a real relationship. Around the same time, I graduated from university. I am the first woman in my family to have graduated with a university degree, the first one to move to a different country and get a job in corporate America. I have done all the things that based on how my dad was raised in the 60’s and 70’s, were not a woman’s thing.
I believe he started respecting me when years passed and he saw that I was an independent woman doing all the things that he never thought a woman could do. When in 2019 the pandemic hit and the lockdown started, I would visit him every day after work at the farm and spend my days with him planting watermelon seeds, taking care of our goats, and watering the corn fields.
Slowly and with a lot of precaution, we started getting to know each other more and more. I learned about so many of his adventures from back in the ‘70, ‘80s, and ‘90s —stories that someday I would share with the world and are so incredible that I am not sure if someone would ever believe me.
One day, all the I love yous started to come out of my mouth naturally and without the need to cry. I decided that I wanted to forgive. I don’t think I will ever forget how much pain his absence caused me or the things he put my mom and my siblings through, but I have decided that I no longer have space to resent him and that for the remainder of our time in the earth together, I want to spend as much time creating new memories and loving each other.
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I am so glad you two are healing your relationship. He's gotta be so proud of you.
i love this. i'm so happy you had to opportunity to begin to heal your relationship with your dad again. it's a struggle for a lot of people but over time those repaired relationships help us heal ourself. congrats on all your achievements - you have a lot to be proud of ❤️