Bought and Paid For

For most of my life, I felt like a mere shadow in my father's world. It was as if my existence was nothing more than an inconvenience to him. His love language was gift-giving, and while I never went without material possessions, I lacked the one thing that truly mattered - his attention.

He showered me with lavish vacations and unlimited money, but I yearned for something more. I craved his love and affection, but it seemed like an impossible dream. I felt invisible, like a mere afterthought in his life.

As a young girl, I always wanted to make my father proud. I remember spending countless hours practicing my gymnastics routines and perfecting my cheerleading stunts, hoping that he would finally show up to one of my competitions. But time and time again, I was left disappointed and alone.

My father was always gone for work, leaving behind a credit card and a note on the counter. I felt like I was raising myself, with no one to turn to for guidance or support. The weight of this responsibility took a toll on me, and I often found myself feeling overwhelmed and alone.

Despite my father's absence, I continued to strive for excellence in everything I did. I pushed myself to be the best athlete, student, and person I could be, hoping that one day my father would take notice and be proud of me.

But as the years went by, I began to realize that my father's approval was not worth sacrificing my own happiness and well-being. I learned to rely on myself and to find validation from within, rather than seeking it from someone who was never there for me.

Now, as an adult, I look back on those years with a mix of sadness and gratitude. While I wish my father had been there for me, I am grateful for the strength and resilience I gained from having to navigate those challenges on my own.

And while I may never have received the validation I craved from my father, I have learned to love and validate myself, and that is a gift that no one can take away from me.

As the years went by, my resentment towards him grew. I couldn't understand why he couldn't see how much I needed him. I longed for his approval and validation, but it seemed like an unattainable goal.

It wasn't until later in life that I began to understand my father's love language. He showed his love through material possessions because that was the only way he knew how. He had grown up in a different time and culture, where emotions were not openly expressed.

Slowly but surely, my resentment turned into understanding. I realized that my father had done the best he could with the tools he had. He had provided for me in the only way he knew how, and for that, I was grateful.

I began to cherish the memories of our lavish vacations and the material possessions he had given me. I realized that they were symbols of his love, even if they weren't the kind of love I had been searching for.

Over time, my relationship with my father grew stronger. We began to communicate more openly, and I learned to appreciate him for who he was. I realized that his love language may have been different from mine, but it was still love nonetheless.

In the end, I learned that love comes in many different forms. It may not always be expressed in the way we want it to be, but it is still there. My father may have shown his love through material possessions, but it was still love, and that was all that mattered.