When I was two or three years old my mother moved away from my father to another city.

My father came to visit me and my brother sometime. Just for one day at christmas and when we had birthdays and so on. He was always so kind to us and we were very happy when he came.

We really did'nt understood why we couldn't stay at our fathers place sometimes...At first my mother told us that daddy had problems with alcohol- he drank too much. We bought that and loved him eventhough- he was so nice to us.

At some point- I don't remember when- my mother told us that our father used to hit her when they lived together. It was even harder to understand- but we bought it because he was nice to us and he would never do so again.

All of this was a big secret to everybody I knew. I never told anyone and I didn't thought so much about it. It was just the way it was, kind of.


Then we grew up and in my early teenage my father started to call sometimes when he was drunk. At first it didnt mattered to me- he was nice and said nice things eventhough he was drunk. And to be an alcoholic is an illness so I just felt sorry for him.

When I had my 14th birthday my father didnt came to visit us. The day he should come he had a hangover (or was drunk-I don't know). I was so so sad. But I loved him in spite of everything. He was just ill, right?

In my 16th year my father started to sound more and more strange in the phone. He said strange things and he started to talk shit about my mom. I went angry at him and hung up the phone.

At some point we heard that he was in psyhciatric jail, but we didn't know why. My mother told us that he had been to jail before because he had driven cars when he was drunk. (And later on I knew a lot of his criminal records - and he isn't nice.)

I loved him in spite of everything, but a few years later, when he started to call my mother a hore when he spoke to me in phone, when he started to talk shit about me, and I hung up again - and all the things he had done to my mom started to get clearer. I felt anger against him most of all. But I loved him in spite of everything.

My dad started to be more and more confusing in the phone. He was always drunk when he called- and even when he wasent drunk- he sounded drunk. And he didnt listtened to what I said- he just talked. We thougt it was the alcohol that had damaged his brain. Later on we heard that he had started with drugs.

When he called me when I was 22 and I refused to give him the money back that he gave me as a gift for the drivinglicens...he said "then you are a hore just like your mother". That's the point where I stopped to love my father.

I told him to go to hell and thats the last time I've heard from him.

My brother has some contact with him, he calls my brother once or twice a year. But my father is a psycho. My brother has even met him. I haven't met him since I was 16, even though we live 70km from the city where he lives.

And that's where I am now.

It's so depressing to think about the little girl that loved her father. Even though he drank. And now think about the 25 year old woman that accually thinks it's unfair that good daddies are dying in young years when her own, bad, daddy is still alive when he is 60.

Sometimes I feel it would be easier and better for all if he was dead. When I tell people they say that "oh, you don't really meen that" - 'cause they don't understand that you don't have to love your father.

And how could I? He hit my mother yellow and blue, I know the things why he got to jail, I know how often he is in contact with the police. I know all the things he has said. They don't know and they don't understand.


It's almost harder not to have a father now than it was when I was younger.

Perhaps it's because back then, it felt like he WAS my father. Now I miss it a lot. And I can feel really sad about not having him. Or more: I can feel really sad about not having A father at all.

When I was younger I didnt think about it so much. He just "was". And I told my friends my father was a mechanic. (Which he was at first.)

It was just a few years ago I started to think that it was OK to tell people about it.

It's my life and it's not my fault. And it's not my thing to be ashamed of.

I am a lost daughter. Just like you.

3 comments:

Hej!

Jag heter Erika är 22 och bor också i Göteborg och befinner mig i en väldigt liknande situation som du. Min pappa är också alkholist och tar droger. Jag fick reda på det för ca två år sedan. Innan var han tablettmissbrukare. När jag var liten var min pappa lite mer "normal" och försökte då och då agera pappa. Men nu är allt bara konstigt. När jag fick reda på vad han höll på med började han ringa och säga jobbiga saker mitt i natten och så vidare. Om du vill så får du gärna höra av dig om du vill ha någon att diskutera och prata med och älta lite jobbiga pappor... :)

Kram

Erika

Hej,hej här kommer jag igen. Håller på och frågar runt bland alla tjejer som bor i Göteborg, har lite funderingar på att starta upp en lite grupp som ses typ en gång i månaden för att fika och prata av sig om pappor och annat. Om du tycker att det skulle kunna vara något så hör av dig!

Med vänliga hälsningar Erika

Jag känner verkligen igen din situation.. min pappa har gjort samma saker och är också alkoholist.. jag har också valt att inte ha någon kontakt med honom för att han är som han är.. hoppas du mår bra iallafall! Så bra som vi kan må, efter allt.