an open letter to my father

27th october 2020. 11:55

i’m going to start out by saying, i full heartedly do not believe you love me. no matter what you say or do, you’ve done so much to convince me otherwise. i’ve always felt more like a roommate than a child. i feel like im just kind of here. you seem only to try and live through me and when you couldnt do that anymore you grew to hate me but realised you have an obligation to care for me. that’s all i feel like. an obligation. not a child, not a family member, not even a friend. i feel like an obligation. you’ve done so much to show me you just keep me around and so little to make me believe you love me. anytime i start feeling better about myself and about the way things are, it’s like you find some way to berate and belittle me. do you do this on purpose? it seems the only time you try to show me affection is when you realise i might actually hate you and you feel i might leave you. you’ve openly admitted to fearing when i leave. is it because you wont be in control of something? is it because im all you’ve ever known? i know it’s not because you love me, so what’s your reason? you don’t respect me. you scream at me for standing up for any sense of self i have then get pissed off i “never stand up for myself” over stupid shit like the wrong condiment on the food i ordered. i constantly feel like you really fucking hate me. the only times you show affection are with material things. those dont mean shit. when i was in therapy, my therapist said she believed i had ptsd because of you. she said she believed i was over the things that happened to me with my mother. she may have dealt with things horrifically incorrectly, but i believe in that sense she was right. but back to the disrespect i constantly feel when im around you. you never respect my identity. you never respect my pronouns. you only want to believe that im doing this out of spite. spite for what?? i didn’t wake up one day and decide i wanted a life full of hardship, pain, and thousands of dollars of spending to feel remotely correct. it’s a feeling that’s boiled in me for years. a feeling that’s been there forever. a feeling i didnt have a name for until forth grade. yes, i’ve felt like this for longer than that. the reason i never said anything was the horrific religious guilt i had because of that hellhole of a school. i spent years telling myself i wasn’t trans because “God” hates trans people and will send them to hell. i convinced myself i was a lesbian because in my mind, it felt like a lesser sin than being a tranny. i later realised that forcing myself to be a lesbian only made me feel worse. it wasnt me and never would be. i couldnt just force that identity onto myself. i started getting less depressed and felling better once i accepted who i was. it’s what helped me make strides, but you dont seem to recognise that. my identity to you seems like a party trick. the only times you correctly refer to me are when you know im pissed off. you always try to relate who i am to the things you go through. you dont seem to understand that i am not you. i dont feel the same ways you did or do the same things you do. any time i do it’s purely coincidence. i am not you. the things i go through arent the same things you’ve been through. a lot of people have identity crises, i understand that. they’re different for everyone though. i know who i am. i’m still learning a lot of dumb shit like, “what music do i like?” “where do i wanna live?” “who are my real idols?” “what’s my favourite kind of gun?” “am i a ford or a chevy guy?,” but what i know for sure is i am a guy. that concept hasn’t changed since 4th grade, and i don’t expect it to by the time im 25. if it does, it would still be your job as a parent to accept me, but you cant even accept me now. as much as i want to hate you, and as much as this may sound like me hating you, i don’t. you’re my dad and a part of me still loves you. i just don’t believe you return that emotion. i believe you only “love” me because you believe you’re supposed to. well, it’s 12:34. class starts in six minutes and i still want to make something for lunch. i guess this is where i’ll end for today.