On Daddy Issues …

“Healing begins where the wound was made.”

~ Alice Walker

I have Daddy issues. There. I said it. I’m embracing how this truth has been impacting my life adversely on many different levels. Before sitting down to etch this fact in stone, I actually had to look up exactly what it meant to have this affliction and yup, it describes me to a tee. I’ve been in denial about this for some time now. I think it’s because I don’t want to disparage my father in any way, but in order to grow and evolve, I have to accept and speak my truth, whatever that truth is.

I am the middle child of five children – four girls and one boy, with my brother being the youngest. I’ve done some research on Adler’s Middle Child Theory. Although it’s just a theory, and the study of the impact of birth order has conflicting results, I do believe that it influences individuals as adults in a variety of ways. While I don’t fit all the criteria of this theory, many of its principles do apply to my experiences as a child, primarily when it comes to my father.

My father grew up in a middle-class, Black home with a mother of Cuban and Native American decent and a father of Native American descent. He was one of four brothers, all athletically inclined, intelligent, popular, and polar opposites in many ways. They all scattered across the country as they grew their families and careers. My father was the only one to make his homestead in New York , where he was born and raised, and where his mother resided as well.

His mother, my grandmother, was a stern woman. Harsh. She wore the pants in the family, and she ran a tight ship. Proper and worldly, she didn’t accept bad manners, bad children, or bad mouths. She lived to be 101 years old, and she was the strongest woman I have ever known. She didn’t take any bull and she didn’t put up with any shit. Hands off the table, church on Sunday, sit up straight, eat all your vegetables, yes and no, not yea and nah, and so on. My father took after her in so many ways and I was afraid of him in the same way I was afraid of her.

Both strict, by-the-book disciplinarians, they felt that children should be seen and not heard. Neither believed in sparing the rod or spoiling the child. Nope. Corporal punishment was utilized in our home. We were made to incessantly clean, to the point of being woken up in the middle of the night if anything was out of place. We had to eat everything that was on our plate, regardless of whether we could choke it down or not. We had to be home, “before the sun set on our asses,” and were closely watched if boys were around. If we didn’t follow the rules and regulations, we would pay the price. My father ran his ship the way his mother ran hers. We are a product of what we are taught.

A quiet and introverted child, I grew up to be an introverted extrovert. I wasn’t as social as my other sisters and didn’t enjoy going out, partying or the company of other people necessarily. My father raised us to be social creatures, and he seemed to be displeased with my antisocial ways. I never seemed to fit his fun if you know what I mean. I was, and still am, a very odd mix of a loner who has always been popular and has many friends. I have always created a nice cocoon for myself and am most comfortable when left to my own devices.

As the middle child, I often felt that my life was a tug-of-war between my mother and father for love and attention. Between my father and sisters for love and popularity. Between my father and brother for love and favoritism. I felt like I was always battling for my father’s attention or against his will, either way, it was a losing cause as I was often the one left in tears. My father was a solid force in the home and my little ass was always a challenge to him.

When around my father, I felt as though I was the outsider; like I didn’t belong. He seemed to like everyone else more than me and even after his death, I still do not know why. From an early age I felt less than good enough and that is a feeling I have not been able to shake until this very day. Insecurities overwhelm me like the plague and no matter what I accomplish or who attempts to love me, I’m left with the feeling of worthlessness and self-doubt. These insecurities help to sabotage my relationships before they even get off the ground and tend to impede the forward movement of me as an individual. While my rational mind knows that these feelings are not based in truth, I am helpless to overcome the feeling of self-loathing my father’s words and actions have instilled in me.

Always second guessing myself, I cannot shake the feeling of not being good enough. Not good enough to excel in the unconventional career I’ve chosen. Not good enough to maintain a long and lasting relationship with a good and worthy man. Not good enough to achieve, obtain and maintain a financially stable and prosperous lifestyle. Not pretty enough. Not smart enough.  Not talented enough. Not sexy enough. Just not enough. Certainly not good enough to simply be happy. I have had this feeling my entire life and I fight against it taking over me each and every day. It feels like a losing battle and continues to be a daily challenge. The feeling of being unworthy of all that life has to offer cripples me and lingers within my brain at all times. Unable to get it from within, I tend to need validation from outside sources, be it family, friends, love interests, or strangers. How I long to feel worthy, secure, and good enough…

Don’t get me wrong, I know my father loved me in the way he could love me. There was honestly something that just did not click between us, even as a young child. I do not think we would have chosen each other if we had such a choice. It was that kind of relationship. Hot and cold. Up and down. Unstable. I longed to have the relationship with him that my siblings did, so I forged relationships with other father-figure types to try to fulfill the need for that closeness. I clung to those men, and later, to the men in my relationships for dear life, always afraid that they would see what my father disliked about me and start to dislike me as well. A sort of paranoia set in and has stayed with me and is hard to shake.

As a grown woman I am working on myself daily to change the way I feel about me. Believing that I am worthy is the first step. Knowing that I am the dream is the second. I must erase the negative talk that goes on in my head and replace it with positive thoughts and positive energy. I know that learning to love myself is the key to overcoming years of low self-esteem due to believing that I was not worth anything.

I have been searching my whole life for the unconditional love and adoration I do not feel I received from my father while growing up. As a result, I became needy and clingy. I became insecure and withdrawn. I became, in some instances, unlovable and overwhelming. I have been searching for a lost love that I will never find because it is the love of a father that I crave. I do not know if this is why I have not settled down, married, and made a family for myself. I do not know if this is why I am single now. I do not know if I feel so bad about myself that potential mates can smell the disdain from a distance and keep it moving because of it. What I do know is that I am going to change this today.

Parents do the best they can with what they have. My father was present my whole life. He showed me love and he made sure I was safe and had everything that I needed. He was not perfect, but he was present. I am grateful for his participation in my life and for the lessons he taught me. I was fortunate to be able to call him Dad and I know that. I just wish we were closer and that I had experienced what my younger sister and my brother experienced. It is unfortunate that I cannot identify with their experiences growing up. I know I missed out on a lot, but I have to move forward from the sense of loss that I feel and feed my soul with the love of self and the belief in me.

Sonia Sanchez said, “You can’t have relationships with other people until you give birth to yourself.” I am choosing to now find the love for self before I again try to find love with someone else. It all starts from within. If you cannot find love within, you certainly will not find it outside of yourself. When you know your issues, you can do something about them. I am well aware that a longing for what did not exist between my father and me has kept me wrestling with all sorts of emotional issues since childhood. My father was the first man that I sought to fill me up with love, but he was not the last. I am just toughest on him because he was the first man I loved, and I loved him the most.

Once you start to love yourself it doesn’t matter who doesn’t love you. It doesn’t matter who has what to say good or bad about you. And it doesn’t matter if you have Daddy issues or Mommy issues. At the end of the day, you are marked with the task of loving yourself first and foremost. You should be the one who loves you best and without reservation … without pause. You should be the one who takes to task anyone who doesn’t believe in your worth, your beauty, and all that you have to offer the world. You are your best advocate; your best source of comfort. During those times when you don’t feel your best and you forget who you are, you must remember that “You are your best thing.” (Toni Morrison)

I grapple with my Daddy issues daily. I continue to be a work in progress. It is not easy to always remember that I am an asset and I offer something great to society, but I make it a practice to remind myself of that every day. I know my father would be proud of me today. I know my worth was not taken away by anything he did or did not do. I know that he was a good father and that he did love me like he loved my siblings. He just showed his love for me in a different way. I am okay with that now. I am coming to terms with who he was and who I am as a person, and I like what I am discovering.

I realize that at the end of the day, I have to be happy with me no matter what my influences may have been. I have to silence the voice that plays in my head and makes me doubt myself. I am enough. There. I said it. I am enough just the way I am, and I will continue to get better with time. I think that is what my father would have wanted me to know and embrace. I am my best thing and I finally know it.