It's Done. And I feel okay.

Dear Dad,

This letter has needed to be written for years. I would say, I've needed to write this letter for about 15 years. I've known I've needed to write it for the last 10 years. And yet, every time I sit down to write it, I freeze, and am unable to say the words that need to be said. And so, here I am, at 24 years old, drinking a bottle of wine, so I can numb myself up enough to deal with this. The only reason I'm really doing it tonight, is because it's one of my goals for February, and I only have 5 days left. The original Goal # 6 was to lose 15 pounds. But I decided this was more worthwhile.

There are so many things that I need from you. So many questions that I need answered, so many Why's and How-could-you's. So many things I don't understand. I don't understand the choices you made. The things you did to me. The words you said. The way your actions spoke louder than you could scream at me. The way it hurt, when you did speak, more than when you twisted my arms around me, or wrapped your big hands around my neck. Worse than when I watched you turn your back and walk away, only to return days or weeks later, and kneel by my bed, crying, asking for a second chance and apologizing. Swearing that you'd never leave again, that if I could just give you a little bit more time, that you'd change - get better and be better. Be a better Father. And time after time, i'd lie in my bed underneath my Pooh Bear comforter, and whisper "It's okay... I forgive you. I love you." and squirm beneath your heavy arms as you tried to hug me.

I needed you to tell me that I was pretty- or beautiful. I needed you to be an example of how Men should treat Women. Of how a Husband should treat his Wife. How a Father should provide for his family. How he should, willingly, give everything they he possibly could to make sure that they had something to eat, or heat in the house, or could flip a switch and turn the lights on. I needed to see how wonderful and special I am. How I'm worth more, and should accept no less. How I deserved to feel special, and needed or wanted. How I shouldn't feel bad for wanting to be loved. I needed you to protect me, keep me from being broken and abused and hurt so many times. I needed these things from you, and for the last 24 years you've failed to show any of them.

Instead, you showed me the opposite. You've constantly chosen everything else available over your family. Over myself, and mom and michael and faith. You've chosen your job, your boss, your money, you truck, your gambling, your tobacco, your alcohol - anything but us. You've made every effort to lie to us, assuming that we were all too stupid to realize what was really going on. And then when you're called out on your lies, you continue to lie to cover them up. With ages comes wisdom, and we're catching on to you. And we're making plans to make changes.

You are about to lose everything you 'have'. You're entire family is making plans to leave you. To leave you in your mess, in your tangled web of lies, to die. Your Father and Aunt and Uncle no longer want anything to do with you, because you are lying to them, and ignoring them. They're finally catching on, too.
Your wife is making plans to move out of your house, and leave you. She's moving in with her parents, at 45 years old, and 25 years of marriage, because you refuse to change. She won't say the words "I hate you" and promises that she'll always love you, but you are literally breaking her heart in half. You are going back on your promises, the ones you made at the alter, 25 years ago, you're breaking them. Forever and Always, for better or worse, till death do us part? Why would you say them if you didn't mean them? If you didn't plan on forever? I don't understand.

Your 18 year old daughter, is planning on marrying her boyfriend so that she can move out of the house, because she's already taking care of herself. She's realized that you don't intend on making any different, or better, decisions, and has taken matters into her own hands. She texted me to tell me that she didn't think you loved her anymore.
I've been scared for Michael's life for at least 8 years, worried that after one of your fights, he'd end his life. I remember the night that Mom called me to tell me that he was driving the opposite way down the highway. I remember circling around Virginia Beach, hoping to see the van so I could 'save' him. I've listened to him cry, trying so hard to be a man, but having no decent man around to show him how.
And myself? Well, I've done everything I can possibly imagine to make you love me. To accept me. To even notice me. I took razors and sliced up every inch of skin on my body, to prove what your screaming did to me, how it affected me. I stopped eating, and lost over 100 pounds, in hopes that if I were somehow less, it'd be easier for you to love me. I came home, when I got sick, and you promised that you'd take care of me, but you couldn't even do that. I had to use my credit card to pay for all the doctors visits, and my medication. I had to use it to buy food for us, when you wouldn't go to the grocery store.

I've learned a thing or two since I've been back in Nashville. I'm learning that every single thing in my life, I make the choice. Whether to allow it in or kick it out. I'm learning who is helpful and who is not. I'm learning that things have to be let go, things that hurt me, or aren't healthy. I'm learning to sever ties, even ties that go back to my birth. I'm learning. I'm slowly placing each foot, firmly and deliberately where it needs to be, in order to keep me safe. To keep me sane. I'm learning to love myself, regardless of if you do or not.

I'm lucky, you see. I have this Big Brother in my life. And he's determined, even when I fight it, to prove to me, that I'm worthy of love. To prove to me that I'm capable of loving, and being loved. Exactly how and as I am. He tells me whenever I need him too. He tells me all the things that a good Father should have told me. He reminds me every single day, sometimes. I'm blessed to have someone of this strength and character to teach me. But years of going without, have made it hard for me to believe him, and I usually put of resistance to his kind words. I'll thank him for them, when they're said, but I rarely believe them. Yet, he keeps saying them over and over. And then, he says "a good dad would've told you this a long time ago."

"You are beautiful."
"You are worthy of love."
"You are worth life. You deserve everything that life has to offer."
"Follow your heart - chase your dreams, you can reach the stars."
"You are loved, exactly as you are."
If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be where I am now.

I've been working on this letter for three weeks now. I keep opening it, and then closing it. I'm trying so hard to not make this hateful, but to still convey what I need. It hurts, Dad. This all hurts me. When you send out text messages, addressed to no one specific, asking what ONE thing you can do to prove you love us. When you text all of us, together, and tell us that you're "determined to make your marriage work. and that if we'll just keep reminding you that you can do it" Like, it's somehow up to us to be strong for you, as you go to your marriage counseling and continue to lie and make excuses. I have to sit on my couch and read texts from each of you (Mom & Dad) telling me your side of the story, and you both expect me to be strong for you each. But how can I even know who's telling me the truth? How can I believe anything you're saying now, after I've been trained to pick out your lies on a regular basis?

I cannot continue to try to be the glue that holds our family together. For the first time in years, I am finally beginning to value myself. To value my sanity, and my okay-ness. To make sure that I'm holding myself together. We're all adults, and it's time that we all start taking responsibility for our actions, our words, and our mistakes. I have to let go of everyone, and let the crumbs fall where they may. But I don't need you anymore. I don't need you to be a Father, because I understand that chances are, that will never be something you are capable of. I'm not fully there yet, but I'm learning to accept this.

Maybe one day you'll see what's happened, and you'll decide to do something different. In the meantime, I wish you well. And I'm sorry that you missed out on having a relationship with myself, Faith, and your Son. We're all pretty awesome people.

-Amy