Birthday Text: Warm Wishes and Happy Hugs

“Happy birthday. I thought you would have been home by now to sort all this out.”

“Thanks, but, sort what out?”

“Well, I won’t talk about it on your birthday, but your life decisions.”

I wrote a letter in response to those texts, thinking it would bring relief and closure if accompanied by some prayer. It didn’t. But here is a summary of what I wrote, what I will write again and deliver someday, in some far-off future when I am happy and free:

“Dear Dad,

Isn’t it clear to you by now that I’m not coming home? I ran away from oppression, terror, and struggle more than six months ago. And is it really “running away” if you’re 22 years old and simply don’t want to live with your parents anymore? No, I truly just up and left because I was tired of feeling like a prisoner at home. A prisoner to you, to your standards, and to my own inner turmoil that I didn’t even have permission to talk about. History was repeating itself from the time when I was sixteen and hated my life because of the overwhelming stress of absent parents and a psychotic puppy. I didn’t have permission to talk about that either. Or when I was 14, experiencing love for the first time and he wasn’t even allowed to call the home phone because you didn’t approve of him. I’m sorry you’ll inevitably feel like I’m ruining our family’s reputation by putting all this dirty laundry out to air, but when will I have permission to be heard? You told me to stop crying in the car on the way to school because people looking in from the outside would think that you hit me. I’ve been silently suffering a different kind of abuse for years and I won’t let it keep happening anymore. I gave you control over my life, my emotions, and my mind but I am taking back what was never rightfully yours.

What do you think I think of you, right now? I have tried texting and calling you. Radio silence. I have tried giving you space. You didn’t use it to heal. You filled it up with manipulation of those around you and grasping at the straws of control like an octopus trying not to be ripped out of his cave of coral to be stuck in a freak show. You stewed in your anger and incorrect assumptions, only digging yourself deeper into the horrible nightmare that your oldest child is off somewhere ruining her life, getting pregnant, and going to be abandoned by that ‘wetback’ you despise so much. You are so broken and hurt inside that all you can do is spread hatred and sadness. Funny how Snapchat allows me the peephole to see into my siblings’ misery at home while I am hundreds of miles away physically and lightyears ahead in my healing from this trauma. I have done everything in my power to be the bigger person, build bridges, meet you halfway, meet you more than halfway, right where you are, and you still managed to say -in front of a priest, no less- ‘I will not speak to you if you won’t talk reason.’ Are you proud of yourself? Are you glad that you have raised your sons to be just like you, too? Their dry snorts at bigoted jokes and maniacal laughter at people of color being tazed on Cops is exactly what I envision for my future sons, too.

You told me not to even think of bringing David around for Christmas, well guess what? He would still be willing to come after all the racist, judgmental things you have openly declared about him: “He’s a perverted, old guy going after a young twenty-something.” (He was 28 when I met him, by the way). “It’s obvious he only wants to marry you for citizenship. How do you know he doesn’t have three girlfriends in Arkansas and kids back in Mexico?” That’s really nice of you to care about me and protect me. Thanks for pointing out that I’m in a relationship with debauchery incarnate, I never would have figured it out otherwise, without your sage insights. David finally showed me what authentic masculinity is -and it doesn’t involve psychological manipulation to make your daughter think the ‘pedo Mexican man’ will rape her on the first date. You yelled and cussed to put your kids in line, whereas David taught me by Christ-like example and gentle direction. You complained about going to church and left early, whereas David gave up his faith to make me feel at home at St. Peter’s. You kicked me out of your house, hissing and spitting insults and injury all the while, whereas David abandoned his job in the middle of a shift, drove the grueling seven hours straight, opened his arms, and welcomed me home.

You don't want me to get married anytime soon, and as a matter of fact, you don't want me to get married at all if David is going to be in the picture. I know you blame me for everything that's happened, for every bad decision that I've made, for every time I ignored your advice, or warnings, or your ultimatums, but you have to understand the role that you played in this. I already know you are going to say that I've continued to deceive you, continued to lie, and hurt you and Mom, but there are two sides to every story. You are in control of your story. Now, again, give me control of mine. If only you could have learned to let go of the leash you put around my neck, I would never have felt forced to rip it out of your hands, giving you rope burn. I'm confused how you ever could have taught me "every problem has a solution” and then gone and lived a life entirely contrary to that. Calling David on the phone and demanding that he break up with me clearly never fixed anything. The insults and implied threats only pushed us further away from you and closer to each other.

David is many things, none of which you have described accurately. He is forgiving above all. He holds nothing against me -or even you!- like you do. He recognizes my flaws and loves me anyway. He lets my inner child exist in a safe space where she does not have to pretend to be an adult while still being treated like a worthless brat. Did you ever even want kids? I was the first child and I was told I was the most special. I can’t even fricking imagine how much you must resent the sixth one for even existing.

You said you don’t approve of my life decisions? How about the fact that I don’t approve of yours, either? I don’t like your philosophy on masculinity. You practice toxic machismo much more than any of the Mexicans I have met. I don’t like your racist politics or lukewarm Christianity, either. You are so insecure as a man that you go yelling and barking and puffing up to look bigger when you are ridiculously small and insignificant.

Even still, I can’t ever let myself hate you. I have a lot of hurt within me that needs healing, too, but I’m not going to let it get the best of me like you did. Like you always have. I have told God to forgive you on my behalf for all the ways you left me damaged throughout my life because I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do it on my own yet. I’m not giving up on my relationship with you, though. The world keeps telling me you’re not worth it, he’s toxic, a family shouldn’t treat you like that so he’s not family anymore, but I know God is bigger than you and your problems. So, I pray for your healing, soft-heartedness, and conversion.

May peace be with you, and please forgive me for the way I’ve acted and spoken through this letter.

Love always, Emily”

I’m not a perfect person, and I could never pretend to be, but I have learned to speak my mind, to speak all of it, even the ugly parts, because they ache and deserve to be recognized like any other part of me. I’ve found God in this horrible situation. My faith has deepened, I love Jesus more than anything now. Here is the worst of me, the truth of me, here is all of what I have set free from inside of me.