I told my dad, just now, about everything. I told him I want to go to counseling, I told him I feel alone and unhappy at home, I told him everything I’ve been telling all of you for months now. I told him everything and he parked the car and hugged me and apologized (and God I’m trying not to cry right now!), and heard me through. He got angry about what Gissell told me last week- told me it was fucked up, that she’s no one to shame me because she’s never done anything in her own life to be criticizing mine. He told me I’m right, that my mom has been fixated on that guy, and that she’s put him above me and everyone else and it’s not okay.
And he listened to me. Kept listening. Drove home and parked the car where they couldn’t see and listened to me vent and cry and spill everything out.
And the best part is he believes in me. Someone at home believes in me.He said it is wrong how they expect me to do everything for the girls- even if he isn’t always home, he sees it. And he says school and my writing and my choices should be my priority. And that I’m only 19, and I shouldn’t have to be expected to take care of four babies and clean and do all the chores I do. That every time my mom or Gissell says I need to grow up or that I’m a failure or that I need to learn how to run a household, I should walk out or tell them to stop talking.
(he admitted it’d be much harder with my mom. He listened and patted me cheek when I told him I wasn’t brave enough to do it with anyone, to tell them no.)
And he told me he believes in my capabilities. That he’s noticed how I don’t ask for money, how I wake up every morning without help.
And when I told him I want to live by myself, that I want to move out sometime soon, he told me he thinks I can do it. He says I’m more than responsible. He says it would be good for me and that I shouldn’t ever feel forced to be somewhere I’m not happy. He said he believed I can do it, sometime soon. Without being married. Without some guy taking me out of the house. Without any fucked up condition Gissell and mom have perpetuated when they aren’t laughingly calling me asexual.
My dad believes in me. And he teared up for me. And he’s my dad- not the guy who donated sperm for me, who slept with my bio. mom and is waiting in the living room for me to make small talk and have dinner with him. He means well. Despite his flaws, that man is a good person, has a good heart full of flaws and mistakes. I don’t hate or detest or dislike him.
But my adopted father is my father. And I can’t believe how happy I am, how loved I feel, and how ridiculously blessed I am to feel like I have a parent after months of feeling alone.