Why "Dad" is Only a Word

"Dad."

While many can call their fathers this like it's second nature, that word has always been a conflict for me.

My experience with father figures is so weird that I can't really say the word without squirming inside. It just feels too alien coming from my mouth and is tainted with negative connotations.

But why do I feel this way?

Because of the trauma and drama of my early childhood.

I had many "father-like" persons flowing in and out of my life during my young years, leading to a lack of reliability and dependability from them and contributing to the trust issues I battle daily.

So the word carries very little meaning for me personally anymore. Now, I'll dive into the gritty details of everything.

My Bio Father

Now, he was an asshole sperm donor of a father.

While I don't remember when he and my mom were together since I was a toddler when she left him, from what she told me and my own experiences afterward, he wasn't a great guy.

A lot of lousy shit happened when they were together. Lots of mental and emotional abuse my mom endured.

Apparently, it wasn't bad in the beginning and during his truck-driving days, but after that ended, everything went downhill.

And since I came from that relationship, it wasn't like she was able to cut ties with him completely; she wanted me to know him since she'd never met her father, who left when she was ten months, the main reason she stuck it out for as long as she did.

Anyway, for a long time, I didn't see how much of a dick he was; my young brain didn't compute this. But I never trusted him enough to be my somewhat moody and sarcastic self.

And the only time I saw him consistently was during his last marriage. My "stepmom" kept him in line with that, having three daughters around my age.

But as an unmedicated Bipolar, she had her own issues, and from what I know, things did not end well. She even put a restraining order against him and, knowing his vision wasn't great, would show up at places he went to so he would be arrested.

After that, I barely saw him until he died from lung cancer. When he passed, relief had been my first emotion. I didn't have to worry about or deal with him anymore.

The sad part was that I was the only one of his children who attended his funeral. Not that I cried or anything. Why would I have? I didn't have much feeling toward him by that point.

But it was a military one, so I got a flag, which I still have because I just do. And my former half-sister (now my fourth half-brother) was the only one who liked him.

The only good thing he did for me was, apparently, he sued the state of Washington after my full-blooded sister passed and won.

We didn't find that out until several months after my eighteenth birthday, and the annuity people called us about backed-up checks, explaining all this and that it kicked in when I became an adult.

Although Mom and I are certain he'd been forced to give that money to me instead of keeping it for himself.

My First Stepfather

I don't really remember him since I was a toddler when they were together. But from what Mom told me, he was crazy about me and my sister.

So while he had his own issues (being a bit of a klepto), he was a pretty good "Dad" for the short time they were a thing and married.

The only reason they even divorced was so my mom could get me back from foster care. Now, if that isn't love, I don't know what is.

They still talk from time to time, and I've met him a couple of times. He's a nice guy.

My Foster Mom's Man

He was a total dick. He didn't really like us foster kids and never let me forget it.

I don't even know why my foster mom was with him. Sure, they share a kid, but like with my father, I couldn't really be myself without being called weird in a not-so-friendly manner.

My Foster Mom's Neighbor and Friend

Luckily, I had another one I often hung around with. And he was a total dork and child-like, in a good way, though.

I liked him.

He was (probably still is) married to my foster mom's friend, salon lady, and former neighbor, so I went over to their house. They were heavily involved in the church, but they cared for me.

But both of them gave me a sense of emotional stability during a time when my life was rather chaotic, even though his wife and my FM tried making me something I wasn't.

They wanted me enough to where they tried fighting my mom for custody. But they didn't win, which ended up being for the best. Because if I had stayed in that environment, I most likely wouldn't be here telling you this or anything.

My Second Stepfather

Now, if anyone would make me say the word "Dad," it would be him.

He's been in my life basically since I came home from foster care, a little before, from the timeline of events Mom gave me. And has seen some of what happened toward the end.

He is both my main father figure and brother I never asked for (the second one more so now that I'm in my twenties).

He's been my most stable and consistent father figure, even joining my Girl Scout troop to become a leader because he enjoyed it so much. And I can depend on him to be there when needed the most.

But I still can't make myself say that word, for it is pretty much ruined for me. I know he knows how I feel, though.

How my Friends Compare

You know what the oddest part about this is, though?

A lot of my friends can relate to me since they have crappy fathers too. And I don't have many friends. So the number of them like me is worrisome.

My two best friends and another friend didn't hit the jackpot there. Not even close.

The main difference between me and them is that I got someone who is at least worthy of the title and is still alive.

I've also tried working on forgiving my father. Not for him, but for myself. It hasn't been easy, but I know it will bring me peace. And I don't want to be controlled by my past anymore.

Them; not so much, depending on which friend I'm talking about. But to each their own, I suppose. It's their issue and journey, not mine.

What All of This Has Taught Me

The main thing I've learned from everything is that "Dad" is usually a meaningless word unless the person bestowed with it has earned it.

But I've also learned that you don't need a father to have a dad. They can be your neighbor, your best friend's father, or even your grandfather.

Because they are not the same thing. A father is biological. A dad is someone who is there for you when you need him the most.

Trust me.

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