Hello,
The reason why I came to this forum is because I have lost contact with my father since 2001. Basically this was my own choice. When I was about 1 year old my parents got divorced. I grew up with my mother as an only child. I did see my father every two weeks for a weekend and later I lived two weeks with my mother and went one week to him. I liked it back then, we had a lot of fun together. He wasn't a father to me, more a kind of entertainer. He never paid anything for me. I even had to bring my own suitcase with clothes every time I visited him. My mother was (and is) a stay-home mum, with a lot of psychological problems due to her very hard youth. She was in no condition to work and couldn't really raise me. But I think she did the best she could. And I have forgiven her for all her mistakes as I know (and always knew) her terrible and tragic story.
My father knew how troubled my mother was, but he never did anything about that. He let her be, he let me be. It wasn't his concern. He didn't work either. But he was just lazy. As far as I know he had a very normal childhood, with loving parents and loving siblings. Somehow, though, he stared using hashes and marihuana (I live in the Netherlands) and that went from bad to worse. He even dealt when I was around. About 10 people a day came by to buy some stuff. He took me with him when he went to the coffees shops to buy heaps of hash (much more than is allowed here). I knew the smell, colour and taste of them when I was 6 years old! Maroc for instance looks kind of yellow, Afghan is very dark and I used to play with it as you can knead it! The weettops hung in my room to dry. I slept under them... I now wonder what that did to me. It can't be good for a child that young. I know in school they called me dreamy... (guess why). Still I liked it there at that time. I loved my father for who he was.
When I was about 15 I couldn't stand it any longer. My father had a girlfriend and they both thought they were the best people in the world. I don't know whether this had to do with the drugs or it was just them. At that time they were growing mushrooms as well. My father started to criticize everything about me. He thought I was dumb as I couldn't do the maths. I stressed and panicked as soon as I saw numbers... (I later learned it is dyscalculia, the calculate variant of dyslexia, but I had never heard of that until 2 years ago). In his opinion that all had to do with the school my mother send me to. He criticized everything about my mother, her choices and the schools she picked, but never attended any parent night or whatever. So my mother had to do that all by herself. I know that that was really tough for her. Dealing with her own problems and (when sober) trying to take care best she could. I then decided I didn't want to go to my father at set times anymore. So I just went when I felt like it, which was pretty often back then. I also slept there from time to time.
When I was 17 my father and his girlfriend got a baby, a boy. When she was still pregnant they married without telling me. I found the weddingbook one day. I then felt like everything would change as soon as the baby was born. My father later told me they married because they didn't want the child to have the name of the mother and that was the only reason. It didn't mean anything to them. They even wanted me as a witness, but as I was still 17 that wasn't possible. Still I think they should've told me. When the baby was born I had the feeling as if they didn't really like it when I was around. I let it go on for 3 more years, and then I had had more than enough.
I lived alone for a few years now, but it didn't go as well as it should. I had problems paying the rent and finally I had to leave that room. My father wanted me to come living with him, so he could 'train' me well. In return I had to quit every contacts I had with friends and the woman who had become my second mother over the years. In his opinion she was no good for me as she was narrow-minded and that wouldn't do me any good. For the same reason he wanted me to quit contact with my best friend. I wasn't allowed to dance anymore as I would see my friends there and I would never become a prima ballerina so why did I bother at all? I couldn't live by his rules so I went to my mother. I lived with her for another year. I didn't intend to, but I lost contact with my father then. I just didn't want to see him for a little while for all the things he had said to me. Before I knew it I received a postcard saying he had some diaries of me and he wanted me to pick them up before a certain date. If I wouldn't come he would consider them as his own and use them when he would write is memoirs about 'the heavy mutilation from mother to daughter and where that could lead to'. And that did it for me. I went by with a friend, no-one was home (god was I glad), but the backdoor was open. So we sneaked in and got everything that was mine and went away as quickly as we could. Of course it ****ed him off.
About half a year later he suddenly was waiting for me in his car in the street where my mother lives. He said he had this 'document' for me and he wanted me to read it. But he didn't have it with him at the time so he asked me when and where he could drop it by. I set an appointment as I naively thought he meant well. He gave me the 'document'. It was a letter of 78 typed papers filled with reproaches against me and my mother. Really horrible stories of what my mother did to him. I don't know, knowing my mother I guess they might be true, but why did he tell me? What did I have to do with it? He even said he could have gone to the police because I stole my belongings. I read the document once and then threw it away. I didn't want my mother to read it, nor did I want to read it ever again myself.
I still don't understand why he wrote all the stuff. I mean, he should've known that that wasn't the way to get me back. Far from that even. I was so angry at that point I didn't want to see him at all. I really felt hate after reading that and that is something I hope never to feel again.
Well, the hate is gone now. But the postcard and the 'document' are in the way. He has approached me lately over the email. He says they were the only people who really loved me and that everything bad that had happened, was cause of my mother. He says if ever I want to feel that love again, I just have to be brave and come back to him.
I have thought about it very often, but as I said, the postcard and the 'document' keep getting in my head. How can I go back to someone like that? How can I go back to someone who thinks I'm crazy? To someone who doesn't respect me for who I am? And to someone who blames everyone but himself? But still, he is my father, right? And we never really talked about it. He now says it is all based on misunderstandings. But the things he wrote were for real. And they still hurt. It?s been years? He?s almost 50 now, I am almost 30. God, where did the time go?
After reading this long story, what do you think?
What would you do?
I really hope to hear from you, because I don't know at this time.
Thank you so much for your time and interest!
Best regards,
Zira
The reason why I came to this forum is because I have lost contact with my father since 2001. Basically this was my own choice. When I was about 1 year old my parents got divorced. I grew up with my mother as an only child. I did see my father every two weeks for a weekend and later I lived two weeks with my mother and went one week to him. I liked it back then, we had a lot of fun together. He wasn't a father to me, more a kind of entertainer. He never paid anything for me. I even had to bring my own suitcase with clothes every time I visited him. My mother was (and is) a stay-home mum, with a lot of psychological problems due to her very hard youth. She was in no condition to work and couldn't really raise me. But I think she did the best she could. And I have forgiven her for all her mistakes as I know (and always knew) her terrible and tragic story.
My father knew how troubled my mother was, but he never did anything about that. He let her be, he let me be. It wasn't his concern. He didn't work either. But he was just lazy. As far as I know he had a very normal childhood, with loving parents and loving siblings. Somehow, though, he stared using hashes and marihuana (I live in the Netherlands) and that went from bad to worse. He even dealt when I was around. About 10 people a day came by to buy some stuff. He took me with him when he went to the coffees shops to buy heaps of hash (much more than is allowed here). I knew the smell, colour and taste of them when I was 6 years old! Maroc for instance looks kind of yellow, Afghan is very dark and I used to play with it as you can knead it! The weettops hung in my room to dry. I slept under them... I now wonder what that did to me. It can't be good for a child that young. I know in school they called me dreamy... (guess why). Still I liked it there at that time. I loved my father for who he was.
When I was about 15 I couldn't stand it any longer. My father had a girlfriend and they both thought they were the best people in the world. I don't know whether this had to do with the drugs or it was just them. At that time they were growing mushrooms as well. My father started to criticize everything about me. He thought I was dumb as I couldn't do the maths. I stressed and panicked as soon as I saw numbers... (I later learned it is dyscalculia, the calculate variant of dyslexia, but I had never heard of that until 2 years ago). In his opinion that all had to do with the school my mother send me to. He criticized everything about my mother, her choices and the schools she picked, but never attended any parent night or whatever. So my mother had to do that all by herself. I know that that was really tough for her. Dealing with her own problems and (when sober) trying to take care best she could. I then decided I didn't want to go to my father at set times anymore. So I just went when I felt like it, which was pretty often back then. I also slept there from time to time.
When I was 17 my father and his girlfriend got a baby, a boy. When she was still pregnant they married without telling me. I found the weddingbook one day. I then felt like everything would change as soon as the baby was born. My father later told me they married because they didn't want the child to have the name of the mother and that was the only reason. It didn't mean anything to them. They even wanted me as a witness, but as I was still 17 that wasn't possible. Still I think they should've told me. When the baby was born I had the feeling as if they didn't really like it when I was around. I let it go on for 3 more years, and then I had had more than enough.
I lived alone for a few years now, but it didn't go as well as it should. I had problems paying the rent and finally I had to leave that room. My father wanted me to come living with him, so he could 'train' me well. In return I had to quit every contacts I had with friends and the woman who had become my second mother over the years. In his opinion she was no good for me as she was narrow-minded and that wouldn't do me any good. For the same reason he wanted me to quit contact with my best friend. I wasn't allowed to dance anymore as I would see my friends there and I would never become a prima ballerina so why did I bother at all? I couldn't live by his rules so I went to my mother. I lived with her for another year. I didn't intend to, but I lost contact with my father then. I just didn't want to see him for a little while for all the things he had said to me. Before I knew it I received a postcard saying he had some diaries of me and he wanted me to pick them up before a certain date. If I wouldn't come he would consider them as his own and use them when he would write is memoirs about 'the heavy mutilation from mother to daughter and where that could lead to'. And that did it for me. I went by with a friend, no-one was home (god was I glad), but the backdoor was open. So we sneaked in and got everything that was mine and went away as quickly as we could. Of course it ****ed him off.
About half a year later he suddenly was waiting for me in his car in the street where my mother lives. He said he had this 'document' for me and he wanted me to read it. But he didn't have it with him at the time so he asked me when and where he could drop it by. I set an appointment as I naively thought he meant well. He gave me the 'document'. It was a letter of 78 typed papers filled with reproaches against me and my mother. Really horrible stories of what my mother did to him. I don't know, knowing my mother I guess they might be true, but why did he tell me? What did I have to do with it? He even said he could have gone to the police because I stole my belongings. I read the document once and then threw it away. I didn't want my mother to read it, nor did I want to read it ever again myself.
I still don't understand why he wrote all the stuff. I mean, he should've known that that wasn't the way to get me back. Far from that even. I was so angry at that point I didn't want to see him at all. I really felt hate after reading that and that is something I hope never to feel again.
Well, the hate is gone now. But the postcard and the 'document' are in the way. He has approached me lately over the email. He says they were the only people who really loved me and that everything bad that had happened, was cause of my mother. He says if ever I want to feel that love again, I just have to be brave and come back to him.
I have thought about it very often, but as I said, the postcard and the 'document' keep getting in my head. How can I go back to someone like that? How can I go back to someone who thinks I'm crazy? To someone who doesn't respect me for who I am? And to someone who blames everyone but himself? But still, he is my father, right? And we never really talked about it. He now says it is all based on misunderstandings. But the things he wrote were for real. And they still hurt. It?s been years? He?s almost 50 now, I am almost 30. God, where did the time go?
After reading this long story, what do you think?
What would you do?
I really hope to hear from you, because I don't know at this time.
Thank you so much for your time and interest!
Best regards,
Zira
