Family is supposed to be a source of love and security, but what happens when it becomes a source of pain instead? Today is my dad’s birthday. In the past, I would always wish him a happy birthday—even if he never acknowledged mine. Our birthdays are both in February, yet the unspoken silence surrounding mine always stung.
Growing up, I sensed that my father wanted me to feel pain. It wasn’t just neglect—it felt intentional. He would build up my hopes, asking me what I wanted for Christmas or my birthday, indulging in the fantasy with me, only for the days to come and go without a single acknowledgment. It happened year after year, and eventually, I learned not to expect anything at all.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. There was an “incident” that I won’t go into here, but I’ve spent years asking myself one question: What the hell were you thinking? Did you ever stop to consider the consequences of your actions? Did you think I would just accept and forget? The truth is, I can’t unsee or unknow what happened, and I refuse to pretend it didn’t.
Yet, what’s almost more painful than the incident itself is how my family has chosen to gaslight me. Rather than owning up to the truth, they’ve rewritten the narrative, dismissing my reality for the sake of maintaining an image. I participated in the facade for so long—smiling, acting as if nothing had happened—all while my mental health suffered. I was living a double life, unable to fully be myself in relationships because I wasn’t even allowed to be myself in my own family.
At my core, I love people. I love connection. But when you come from a narcissistic family system, interacting with others can feel exhausting. By the time you make it to your friends, you’re already emotionally drained from surviving your own family.
The turning point came when I grieved what was never going to be. The painful realization that no one was coming to save me forced me to be all in on my own journey. The moment I let go of the fantasy of what I wished my father could be, I became free.
Would I love to have a relationship with my dad? Of course. I wish we could be close, that we could embrace without discomfort, that I could hear his voice and not feel an emotional lump in my throat. But that’s not my reality.
The last time we spoke, he said something that stuck with me: “I don’t really know you.”
And that was the epiphany. He never tried to know me. And maybe he never will. A father should know his only daughter, not because they spend a lot of time together, but because she is a part of him. And yet, I don’t think he sees it that way.
What I want people to understand is this: It’s okay to set boundaries. If someone makes you feel uneasy, if your body reacts with discomfort, you don’t have to force yourself to engage with them. You don’t have to feel guilty for protecting yourself.
For years, I felt guilty. I thought I was obligated to love and forgive my abuser. But I’ve come to realize something even more important: I deserve to be angry.
You Deserve to Feel Your Feelings
And you do too. You don’t have to suppress your emotions for the sake of making others comfortable. Your pain is real, your experiences are valid, and your healing is worth prioritizing.
But here’s the key—anger doesn’t have to consume you. Instead, you can channel its energy into something that will help you grow. Your pain can fuel your purpose. Your past does not define your future.
So today, on my father’s birthday, I’m not reaching out. Not because I’m bitter, but because I’m choosing myself. I’m choosing peace over obligation. I’m choosing healing over denial. And I’m choosing to live my truth rather than someone else’s illusion.
If you’re struggling with difficult family relationships, I want you to know—you are not alone. You are allowed to walk away from what no longer serves you. You are allowed to grieve what will never be. And most of all, you are allowed to put yourself first.
Because in the end, healing isn’t about making them understand—it’s about making you whole again.
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