A “Dad’s” Damage

 

A friend once gave me a little excerpt from a book that talked about the limitations of others. I think its message makes a good preface here. The idea was to the effect that there are people in our lives who wrong us, even those who almost near destroy us. They deny us of the love we so desperately need for one reason or another. But the point hinges on our moving forward in forgiveness and letting go because they likely loved you as much as they could. Perhaps they didn’t intentionally hurt you (perhaps they did) but they likely loved you to the extent it was possible for them to love another person. Holes and emptiness in them somehow made it impossible for them to love in a less than selfish or even narcissistic way. I accept that and have certainly seen that play out in my life on many an occasion. 

But even though there is abundant truth in that, I want to reflect on something else I’ve experienced in my life.  Sometimes a parent can be “physically present” (on occasion at least) and still be absent in every other way. (Side note: Abuse also doesn’t have to leave physical marks to still be abuse.) 

But we have a serious “absent father problem” in our world right now. So let me enlighten you on what that does to the daughter. 

She will spend her entire life mending an empty bucket. The bucket of her emotional needs - that should have been filled by her parents - now has tremendous holes. Chances are that nothing will repair those holes. Ever. The damage is so foundational to her personality that an emptiness may always remain, no matter the other loving relationships that may come along in her life. 

She will be suspicious of every man. The first man she loved has broken her trust. If he can’t be trusted, why and how could any other man? And so...

She will sabotage herself in nearly every relationship. There will, of course, be other scumbags who break her heart. But she won’t believe in good men because she’s never seen one. So even if she finds one, she will destroy herself anticipating the fall, the other shoe to drop, the next traumatic moment when another man breaks her heart. All because the first one did. 

She will question the authority and/or authenticity of every man. 

She will struggle with intimacy. 

She may become promiscuous, trying to fill that ever-elusive need and desire for love and acceptance.

She will find herself struggling with codependency, further hindering her relationships and her personal growth. 

She will never feel beautiful and worthy. 

She will constantly try to dull the pain of never feeling good enough. 

She will cry herself to sleep... a lot.

She will seek inner peace and yet always feel it’s not for her to have. 

She will beat herself up for the rejection imposed upon her because she somehow thinks it’s her own fault. 

And perhaps most dangerous of all...

She will question God. A lot. Not only the “why me?” in her most private moments of desperation but also in the very essence of who God is. Our fathers are the first reflection we have of the idea of a heavenly father. Research suggests that whatever our experience with our earthly fathers, we attribute those characteristics to God in our minds. By being absent, narcissistic, critical, or abusive, you’ve sentenced her to a lifetime of struggles in her faith because she will subconsciously attribute these traits to God as well. 

I don’t know the answers to how to solve this. But I do know it probably starts in our own homes. With our own daughters. And men?  Take a good long look in the mirror of truth to see what legacy you’re leaving your baby girl in your absence.