Dear Dad,
Fuck you.
Your psychological, emotional, and verbal abuse has haunted me everyday since I last spoke to you 3 years ago. You have permanently altered how I perceive myself. I'm sorry I'm not skinny and fit. I'm sorry I get excited about eating good food. I'm sorry that you feel like I have failed you as a daughter. Though you won't admit it, I know you are thinking it.
Thank you though for letting me know how disgusted you were by my body weight. We all can't have a gymnast's body forever.
"Lose 15 pounds if you want a sweet sixteen and you can't invite black people. Wait how much do you weigh? 140? Jesus Christ. Ok maybe 20 pounds." Not only was that racist comment utterly sickening, but thanks for saying all of that really loudly in the crowded JC Penney's while we were waiting on line to buy the dress you were mad I had to get the next size up in.
Grabbing my fat and looking at my thighs in disgust every Sunday accompanied by the phrase "What the fuck are you wearing?" or "You're getting big. Hit the gym." was humiliating. I regret defending myself because all you'd say is, "Oh you lost weight? Where? You're earlobes?" followed by a loud cackle and quick "I'm kidding!"
Your countless Facebook messages about the old times we've had has gotten old, boring, repetitive and pitiful. Not to mention the idea that YOU have given ME the time I need to figure things out. I'm pretty sure the retraining order that I issued was to protect ME from YOU so you could reevaluate YOURself and YOUR actions.
Although you never hit me and I never thought you would, your outburst three years ago gave me some uncertainty on that topic. You've threatened beating me before. Taking off your belt until I was in a fetal position on the couch. Yes, you have thrown me against a wall before, but a true beat down was something I became afraid of and any bit of safety I felt with you left me on that day.
Side note: throwing me against the wall and then refusing to let me out of the car until I apologized for MY actions after you gave me your usual "I'm sorry, but-" was quite traumatic. I felt trapped. And plus we both know you didn't let me out of the car crying hysterically because you didn't want my mom to take you to court.
The only reason why I never told my mom about the shit you were doing was because I wanted to avoid the courts and drama. But I get mad at myself everyday for not saying something sooner. You gave me guilt trip after guilt trip after guilt trip about how much I'd be hurting you. But what about how much you were hurting me? Your manipulations gave me an unnecessary amount of stress and anxiety. I felt like I needed to take care of you, and calm you down, and be the one to pick you up when you fell. But I know now that that should never have been my responsibility. You are a grown man. So stop running around and fucking these 23 year olds in Columbia and trying to get them pregnant while also fucking a 17 year old in the states and focus on what really matters. And what really matters is how you were supposed to have treated me.
So good luck going through life knowing that you lost your only child because you, alone, fucked up.
Sincerely,
The daughter who is better off without you
