Childhood Traumas — The Absence of a Father Figure, Part II
Continuation of the effects of lacking an emotionally present father or father figure.
I left off the last blog on a rather quick note. I didn’t want to overwhelm you with a 2,000-word or more blog — plus, it gives me more time to hone in on the aspects I want to cover in this blog.
Towards the end of the first blog, I began mentioning some effects that can stem from lacking a loving father figure.
One is attention seeking.
Another one I want to cover is a deep sense of self-deprecation and a severe lack of self-love and respect, which is more of a root cause of the first one.
I’ve spoken on other blogs about my weight and overall appearance issues.
And after giving it some thought, I’ve realized not having a loving father figure tell you you’re valuable, beautiful, and good enough the way you are leaves you seeking answers from the world.
I’m sure we can all agree what the world says is valuable in a woman (and a man) is empty, fake, and vain.
This may sound harsh, but it’s true.
Otherwise, you wouldn’t have people flocking to plastic surgeons, getting BBLs to change their entire body shape, amongst other methods to change their appearance, putting their lives at risk to get attention and recognition.
Not having a loving father during childhood who tells you how beautiful you are and defends you against the influences trying to convince you that you need to change will leave you at the mercy of society.
Unfortunately, our society is a cruel place, especially for women.
I remember feeling like I needed to change as young as 11.
I would compare myself to those I thought were my prettier classmates. I wished I had what I thought they had that I didn’t.
Longer hair, skinnier body, parents with more money, parents who weren’t divorced, etc.
I constantly looked for what I thought I lacked. I thought this made me less than others. Less than what I thought was necessary to be good enough.
In the previous blog, I mentioned how my parents divorced when I was a toddler.
My parents shared custody, but unfortunately, I lived in a different city, which made it harder for my father to visit me or for me to see him.
Fast forward a few years, and he passed away from a massive heart attack at 54.
The worst part, I was there when it happened.
I was a child forced to see the truth of life and death.
It’s a memory that will never leave me. One that taught me how fragile life truly is.
As an adult, this did have its benefits. I grew to understand certain aspects of life better than my peers.
I understood loss and grieving, which matured my heart and mind. At the same time, this made me different from other kids my age.
Few of them understood what it meant to lose a parent. Fewer understood your whole life changing because of it.
But I digress —
Many memories and past circumstances flash through my mind when I think about those crucial moments where things would have turned out differently if I had a father or father figure to confide in.
I’m not saying I regret how my life has turned out. Not at all, but the journey to getting to this point has been arduous—more than I would like for a child to go through.
I look at my younger self, and I grieve for her.
She was so innocent and full of love for others but not for herself. She didn’t know better. She didn’t know how to make it better. At least not until she became an adult.
Fortunately, depending on which part of the world you live in, adulthood can grant you a beautiful gift — freedom of choice.
Once I grew to be old enough, I started making different decisions.
I knew I didn’t want to end up like many of my family members and friends. I could see the toxicity oozing out of their lives.
Funny enough, they didn’t go through the same or similar losses to get to that point.
This always reminds me how blessed I am.
My heart has been hurt numerous times but hasn’t become jaded and bitter. And for that, I’m incredibly grateful.
Loss has not sucked out the joy from my life. If anything, I’ve learned that it amplifies it. At least when you’ve worked hard to love yourself and change your perspective.
Losing a father, not having one at all, having a disinterested and disengaged one, or worse, an abusive one will create chaos in your life.
Unfortunately, you won’t be able to face that chaos head-on until you’re an adult.
But fortunately, you will get infinite opportunities as an adult to change it. You have the choice of not letting loss and pain determine your outcome.
Not having a reliable father or father figure will create a mess of your identity. It will leave you to fend for yourself, and figure out how to provide for yourself emotionally, maybe physically.
Amongst all this chaos, there’s another blessing—the ability to survive and thrive despite the circumstances.
Although we experience a lot of hurt, we’ve developed a resilience that seems alien to others. Some people don’t seem to understand how we still move forward after living through so much.
The beauty in pain is its ability to turn us into formidable beings who do not and will not give up.
What lessons have you learned from loss?






