So this one has a bit of a back story. I am writing it because my counselor thought I should express my feelings toward my dad. I meant for it to be about how betrayed I felt. But it was 4:30 am and I don't know if its because I was tired, but, my anger at him came out instead of the betrayal.
As a disclaimer, I know my story isn't near as bad as some of yours. I used to feel guilty for how hurt I was. I felt like I shouldn't feel bad because others have had it worse. But I have come to learn that everyone experiences pain differently, and something small to others may seem very big to someone else. Your pain always matters.
I was first taken away from my dad when I was 9. He promised me then that he would stop doing the drugs so I could be with him again. We were so close. He was my hero, maybe I idolized him. I was definitely a daddy's girl. So I believed him, when he said he would stop for me. Time passed and I was allowed to live with him part time again. But when my mom found out he was still doing drugs, she confronted him again. I was 12 this time. So, right in front of me, he said he was still doing drugs, and what was he supposed to do, keep lying? He said I wasn't good enough. That's not what he actually said, but to my 12 year old heart, that is exactly what he said. How else could it be that he would choose to keep doing drugs than to have me in his life? He didn't even fight for me. Our relationship has been strained, to say the least, ever since. I was allowed to visit him sometimes, but I hated it. I didn't want to see him anymore. I would act like I was sick so I didn't have to go see him. I hated him for what he did. I understand about addiction now. But I still don't really know how to accept that. I always felt like he didn't love me enough, and that is hard to let go of when you have felt it for so long.