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Part II


LexieDad_001

Drowning, Dying, Hopelessness; blackened pit of night

      Living with the Specter; in a world devoid of light

The torture and the torment; wrapped around the soul

     Loneliness, secluded, neglected; lost, cannot control

 

Haven’t seen her daughter; empty the heart and mind

     Of killing points and trigger thoughts, that always rob and blind

Helpless in the hopelessness, from losing her so long

     Forgotten, hated, ostracized; cannot outlive the wrong

 

Concertina, razor wire, wrapped around the brain

     It slices, tighter, endlessly; promulgated by the pain

Suffocating heartbeat, breathe is fading out

     I wish that I could see her, before the final round

 

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3 Comments

Posted by on 02/18/2018 in Dads, Depression

 

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Why Doesn’t My Daughter Love Me?


What Did I Do That Was So Horribly Wrong?

silhouette of dad and daughter holding hands on the beach That’s what it feels like. It feels like she doesn’t love me.

“Of course she loves you, you’re her dad” they almost jeer from the side like some frenzied Colosseum.

I see her every two weeks from Friday through Monday morning when I drop her off at school 50 minutes away.

I call. I text.

And no answer. This is my trigger.

I’ve felt like a horrible dad since last September. Probably even before that. You all know what happened last September when this trigger hit the hardest it’s ever hit. 

It’s one of the hardest demons for me to face as it lifts its cowl and I see its razor incisors dripping to gnash.

I Abuse Alcohol.

I drink.

I’ve been drinking regularly.

I’ve become really good at that.

I escape.

The buzz kind of numbs the pain. Sometimes it backfires. Like when you zip tie your neck to your bedroom closet’s doorknob and fist a bottle of sleeping pills down your face.

I Get So Angry

I get angry because I subscribe to blogs where women write about their dads. Some good, some bad. They miss them or they remember how good they are to them. The good ones call and stay in touch with their girls…their kids. Even the bad ones; their daughters still yearn for a relationship with them. It’s their biggest dream.

You know how painful it is when you call or text and YOU KNOW there will not be any response?

Do you know what kind of strength that takes?

How deep the wound of worthlessness continues to open?

How much the nine inch nail is driven?

It’s one of the worst pains in the world. I wish it on no one.

I’ve Read Books.

Maybe I Should Practice What They Preach. Maybe I shouldn’t have read them at all.

Divorced dads books on a shelf

What I Hang On To.

A fellow blogger framed it perfectly for me. I can’t quote it or remember who it was but the gist of it was, “even though my mom and dad were divorced, my dad delivered flowers to me every Valentine’s day for the past [#] years. No matter how far away he was. No matter how busy he was, the flowers showed up with a note EVERY single year. Because of that I know he never forgot about me.”

‘Nuff said.

Do any hurting sons/daughters have advice for me? Thank you for taking your time to read this.

 

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