As a little girl, Daddy, I would run crying to you each time I got hurt; your response was always the same, “You’ll be well before you’re married”. And I would hear it but didn’t know what it meant until I was a teenager. I thought about your standard response a lot; would I be well before I’m married? What if the pain never ends? Would it prevent me from being married? Who would marry someone who got hurt all the time?
As a grown woman, I still find myself asking those questions. I just want to scream to you Daddy that you were right!! I am not well, Daddy. I am not well and I haven’t been since I was a little girl. I hurt, Daddy. And I am not married, Daddy.
I can’t allow myself to trust another man, Daddy. I can’t allow myself to be open and accepting that not everyone wants to hut me, Daddy. I seek out individuals that I know will hurt me, Daddy because pain is what I am used to.
Why couldn’t you tell me how wonderful I am? Why couldn’t you kiss away the pain instead of telling me that? Why couldn’t you make me feel safe and secure instead of like a burden to you? Why couldn’t you stop the people who hurt me?
I want to forgive you, Daddy. I know that you did the best that you could. I know that you love me, Daddy. I know that I will always be your little girl, Daddy. But I can’t forgive you, Daddy. For my heart aches and the pain won’t go away.
When I wake up in the morning, I think of you, Daddy. I think of how I want you to be proud of me. I think of how I wished you would call me, just to tell me you love me. I don’t want you to hurt either, Daddy. I want to take away all the sorrow in your life and I want to see you smile again, Daddy. I want to be the little girl that you were so proud of before you were ashamed of me.
I love you, Daddy. I know that there will come a day that I can’t say those words to you and I hate myself more and more that I can’t forgive you. I don’t want to hurt anymore, Daddy. I want to cherish these moments and have them forever, but something isn’t allowing me to, Daddy.
When I go home, Daddy, I feel like an outcast. Really, I always have. I feel like no matter what I do or say, no one is ever going to forgive me. I wish that you could see past my mask to see the little girl again, Daddy. I want you to be proud of me. I want you to know of the struggles I’ve been through and how I have always tried to make you proud. I want you to see me for the woman that I have become. They can’t hurt me anymore, Daddy.
My heart aches for you. But I will be well before I am married.
Your little girl