Authenticity

As a little girl, I adored my dad. I used to wear my sparkly "Daddy's Girl" t-shirt everywhere. When my parents divorced though, I held my dad completely responsible. For years, I was horribly cruel to him though it was very seldom outright. I was shamelessly passive aggressive - taking cheap shots, keeping him at a distance, and putting everyone else above him.

Several years ago, we had an awful blowout, one that had been building for over a decade. I said some terrible things I wish I could take back, and not for the first time. I remember screaming at him at one point: "Why do you even bother with me?"

"Because I love you!" he yelled back.

Unlike many fathers, my dad has always been good about telling me that he loves me but it was only then when he was able to say it in the heat of our worst fight ever, at a time when I was being brutally mean to him, that I truly understood how very much he meant it and had always meant it.

Our relationship improved greatly after that as I started to see my dad in a new light. I was so afraid of losing that relationship again though that I started trying to do things to impress him, talk only about topics I knew he was interested in, and say only what I thought he wanted to hear.

Part of recovering from the shock of my husband's string of affairs has been learning to love myself enough to be who I really am despite how others might react. Tonight, when my dad asked me a philosophical question, I began responding by giving him the answer I thought would most impress him. I could feel genuineness draining from me the more I talked though so I finally stopped, backed up and told him what I really thought. Not only did I feel better after doing so but he then told me of his experiences recently starting telling people what he really thinks about certain topics. He said he has been pleasantly surprised to find that, while some people were turned off by his views, many more actually liked him better for his honesty.

One of the lessons I learned early in my recovery was that people cared more for and opened up more to me when I admitted my flaws rather than pretending to be perfect. It was one of the most freeing experiences of my life but somehow, ever so subtly, I've slowly begun to sink back into the belief that I am only loved when I am what I think others want me to be. What a blessing to have a dad who affirms that I'm loved best when I'm simply me.

Until next time,
RJ