Have you seen my daddy?

I was born on a chilly day in February of 1980… I have 2 brothers… one older , one adopted and younger and an older sister… My mother and father were divorced by the time i was 4 years old… so i dont really have that close relationship with dad that i wish i had… but my mother did begin a relationship with another man shortly after the divorce who i grew to love as my dad… older brother and sister didnt really like the fact that i called him “daddy” but he was the only father figure that i knew at the time. I knew who was my father but he just didn’t raise me. After the divorce my dad had days that he would pick us up and take us for a few hours… but i don’t think that was enough to really solidify a father daughter bond because still to this day i don’t feel the bond that my older sister and brother developed with him… but i still love him. As a matter of fact today is his birthday, he’s 74 years old and in great shape.. but anyway…

The man that raised me, i loved him… i looked up to him… i really remember seeking his approval at even a young age… i was his little girl and he treated me as such… we did develop a bond.. i remember feeling proud whenever he would introduce me to his friends as his “daughter”.. but the bond we had slowly got destroyed by his in and out of prison for years at a time… I remember my mother going to see him on visits… she even took me a couple of times to see him… i just never knew until i was older what he was in for.. Yea growing up when he was at home and i would get in trouble i wouldn’t hesitate to scream at him “you’re not my father!” which would get me into deeper shit and he would scare me like he was going to hit me..but he didnt lay a hand on me… maybe 2 times in my whole childhood…

I know him and my mother loved each other very much… he had a drug problem which i found out later on…He was deep into heroin… and i remember being a kid and seeing him laying on the sofa … drug sick… throwing up and everything… but i didnt know any better, i just thought he was suffering from a stomach bug…

As i got older, i began to resent him… resent him for wasting my mothers time…. going in and out of jail…loving the drugs more than her.. my mother would kick him out over and over again only to take him back… i remember one time she kicked him out and he came crawling back in through the fire escape… i was super scared.

As i hit my teens and i started to realize what was going on yes i did resent him and i even told him about it… i felt like important parts of my life he wasnt there for them… I now know that he was sick.. but i didnt care… i just wanted him there… in some way it would have shown me he CARED enough… i know he loved me but i know the drugs stopped him from being the best man he could be… and he was a good man except for the drug issues… He used to beg my mother for money.. he’s had a few jobs but he never stayed there for long..

in 1991 when i was 11 i recall one night i wanted to take a shower and head to bed for school the next morning … he was taking a particularly long time in the shower… i was rushing him to hurry up… a few mins later he rushed out of the shower…towel wrapped around his waist and he left the bathroom in a huff… i go in to make sure the shower was clean for me to use and i pulled the curtain back and discovered a needle he had just used with fresh blood around it… i screamed for my mother and yet again she kicked him out… he apologized and ended up coming back… he apologized to me and my mother… but it was something i would never forget… what if i had accidentally poked myself with it? smh

When i hit 18 my mother had kicked him out yet again and i remember seeing him across the street from my mother’s house and just giving him everything i was feeling… i was in his face letting him know how much of a failure of a man to my mother he was and how much of a shitty step dad he was… i know that was wrong but i was just so angry at him… i wanted a father … a dad…and i couldnt have that… i was stuck with this drug addict “step-father” and i wanted him to know how much of a failure he was to me and my mother… at that moment i felt powerful…and vindicated…. that i was expressing myself on behalf of myself and my mother…

Today i all i know of him is that his brother sent for him and he moved to oklahoma… i dont know how he’s doing.. i mean i have his number… if it’s still the same…but i havent spoken to him in years… i dont know if he’s dead or alive… on drugs or clean… i dont know if i even want to know honestly… i dont know…

but heres a peek into my life… i’m sure there are things that i have not mentioned here but maybe sometime in the future i will express those things.. my fingers are tired of typing now lol…








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