Okay so yesterday hit me hard. Saw a kid playing catch with his dad in the park and bam – that old feeling punched me right in the gut. You know, the whole “wish I had a father” thing. Used to just sit in it forever, but this time I tried actually doing stuff to deal with it.
Way 1: Let The Mad Out First
Grabbed my notebook – the cheap spiral one – and just started scribbling everything. Didn’t think. Wrote things like “Why wasn’t I enough for you to stick around?” and “Do you even remember my birthday?”. Got real messy. Dropped tears on the paper and didn’t care. Finished by ripping that whole page out, crumpling it tight, and chucking it straight into the trash bin. Felt stupid at first. But after? Like a pressure valve popped open. Still hurt but… less suffocating.
Way 2: Found Some “Might-Have-Been” Photos
Went digging through a dusty box in my closet. Pulled out a blurry picture of some guy holding baby me at a picnic. Don’t even know if it’s him honestly. Taped it to my fridge. Stared at it while making coffee. Didn’t try to make up stories about him. Just looked at the tiny me, and whispered “That baby deserved better. I deserve better now.” Sounds cheesy, but saying it out loud mattered.
Way 3: Asked Mr. Henderson About Shed Stuff
My neighbor’s this old dude who fixes lawnmowers in his driveway. Always wave but never actually talked. Walked over yesterday. Told him straight: “Never learned how to hammer a nail right. You busy?” He blinked hard. Then grinned. Spent the next hour showing me how to hang a shelf without it crashing down. We barely talked. Just banged nails and passed tools. Felt calm. Normal. Didn’t need him to be dad. Just needed somebody stable for a bit.
Way 4: Small Wins Celebration
Usually when I feel low, I disappear into Netflix. This time? Made myself cook an actual dinner. Nothing fancy – pasta with jar sauce. Set the damn table for one. Lit a candle from some gift set. Ate slow. Focused on tasting it. When I washed the plate after, I pointed at myself in the kitchen window reflection and said, “Good job feeding yourself, kid.” Felt silly but strong. Taking care of me counts when nobody else did.
Way 5: One Text to Mom
Usually avoid talking to mom about him – too messy. Sent her a dumb meme about raising cats being easier than kids. She texted back fast: “Honey I tried my best.” Didn’t fix anything. Didn’t erase history. But letting her know I was thinking about family stuff? Didn’t blow up. Didn’t pretend it’s fine either. Just… kept it short. Closed my phone after. Sat quiet for a minute. Breathed. Held my own damn hand. Realized I’m still here. Still standing.
Look, none of this magic-wanded the hurt away. Still aches sometimes. Probably always will. But for the first time in ages, it feels lighter. Like I’m carrying less of his absence and more of my own presence. Weirdly, that’s enough for today.
