I am processing so much, so fast; it is quite overwhelming. Please understand this post is healing for me. I am not reaching out for support or love. In writing this and sharing this truth, I am healing my own self. Your presence and eyes are enough. I do not need or expect words of comfort. I do not need anyone to tell me that I am enough. Innately, I know I am enough, that I am beauty, that I am good. But this little girl needed to be heard, so I could heal further. I am okay. I am better than okay. I am facing my demons head on and surviving. Not only surviving, but smiling through tears. So please know I am okay. I am okay in me and with me. I like me. I love me enough to be who God intended me to be. And I love you enough to trust in your love. ~ Sam
Dear Father,
You don’t love me, and you never have. If you do, it’s limiting and conditional. I am made into a person who is judged and evaluated, or worse not seen or spoken to. You have been my everything since I was born. My superman. My rescuer. My hope. The man created to love and hold me, to cherish and lift. And yet you have done none of this.
I am left hollowed from the inside out, a forgotten child, who has had to find her own way, whilst left alone without you. You came out of obligation, if you ever came at all, out of guilt or need. Never out of connection or thought for my betterment. Life has been about you from the start, and continues to be about you: your hobbies, your interests, your wives.
You have said to me once I am beautiful. Only once. On my wedding day, and I hold on to that word as if it were the last sound of my life. How I have longed to be held and told I am lovely and worthy; how I have missed the embrace of a father, and thusly sought out the embrace wherever I could.
Through torment I wept for you. Through miserable relationships and false dreams. I created fantasies and idols with men, in hopes of finding you again.
Yet, still I weep and walk alone. No one is you. No one is my father. Not even you.
You live but you are dead; in the sense of being and not existing. You choose each day to reject or worse forget. Your silence and aloofness my hellfire.
Some child in me still believes I can find you in someone else, find the love and approval. I imagine them as you. I place your face on them. I replay the words over and over, with your voice and your heart. But, still I know this is not you.
I hunt down people in hopes of them being you. Have from the start—a small child searching for her father in playmates and strangers. I have exposed myself to countless hurts, hoping to appease and please a someone who was not you, but that I believed to be you. Every time I am rejected, again by you.
Why? Why can you not see my beauty and love? Why is your view of me not what the world sees? Why do many love me, when the one I need the most to love me, does not? What have I done wrong? What is innately wrong with me that you would refuse the gift I am? Why am I left unopened, still on this shelf of pain waiting to be taken? To be taken and held. To feel a father’s arms around me. A hug. An embrace. To see your eyes. To look in your eyes and see adoration. What is that like? What does it feel like to be held by a father? To be loved by a father? What does it feel like! I need to know. I need to know. Just once, before I die, I need you to hold me.
I have wept for you since my hands were tiny and fragile. I have wept for you endlessly. I walk in silence but the tears cut through my soul. They eat at me and destroy my truth. They huddle me into a corner and persecute me. I cannot be in this world when I know my own creator detests his creation. My own God I set into your mold. And I am left shattered, broken, while still untouched and waiting.
Please love me, so I can stop my search. I am so tired. So weary. So alone without you.
Please see me. Please see my beauty. Please release me from my torment.
I beg for your love. I cry out for your love. Across the universe I reach for you. This child I am.
Everyday Asperger's 
I think perhaps your father does love you. But something is in the way. Something is preventing him.
Thank you for your kindness.
Sam, your picture (along with the post) has me almost in tears. I will tell you something; I don’t know if it will help. I grew up thinking that I was not good enough (especially for my father). I got to the point that I felt he hated me and that he would rather I had not been around. It has taken me a very long time to see that most of this stemmed from his behavior and my interpretation of it. He does love me; always has. The problem was he didn’t know how to show it well. By the time he could begin to, I had been saturated with my own thoughts that he didn’t care. I know he does now. I am adult enough to see how his experiences and his own upbringing make/made it difficult for him to express emotion. Actually, I think it is harder on him than on me. Anyway, it has taken a long time, but now I know. Hope, perhaps, it is that way with you.
Regardless, dear Little (Blogging) Sister. I love you,
Scott
Thank you, Scott. I appreciate your words. I am sorry you had to experience pain and am happy you have worked through it. We all have our journey and challenges. I am glad you can process yours clearly and readily. Thank you for everything. hugs and high regard, Sam
Wow-I am supposed to be writing my own Dear Father letter but find it difficult to even know where to begin. Hurray to you for processing, understanding and getting in the ‘gunk’ to get through this process. I’ve met an amazing gal here in Roseville that you would love and ‘get’. Perhaps it’s time I get together with her to get into ‘that’ gunk. So proud of you!!
It is so lovely to see you here in this space. I feel better just knowing you are here. I am happy to here about this amazing gal! Yay. I will hold you in thought as you decide whether to venture into the gunk. Always here to lend an ear, if needed. Thank you for saying you are proud. That is helpful in many ways and validating, as well. xo me
You have given words to the hurt this little Aspie feels. Thank you for having the courage to heal; that’s not something all of us have.
I am sorry for your pain. I am thankful for your connection and words. That I have helped you heals me and makes my journey have meaning and cause. I thank you for telling me so. blessings ~ sam
I love you, I wish I didn’t live so far away. 😦
Praying for you my precious friend. {{{BIG HUG}}}
I feel your hugs no matter how far you be. Thank you.
Oh my! Perhaps your dad is a granite onion. The great thinkers say we are all like an onion, with the outermost layers needing to be peeled away, one by one untill we get to the fragile human core. It is much harder to get through layers of granite, but the core is always there.
I know he has love at his core. Thank you for your words.
Fathers (and Mothers) are people long before they become parents. As with my Father, my daughter’s Father and yours, their capacity for love, (showing, giving and receiving) for whatever reason, is not the same as ours. I don’t think there is a greater pain than love not returned by a parent or child. My heart aches for you, and for all those who have never experienced unconditional authentic love. Sending love filled hugs and positive healing energy to you dearest Sam.
Thank you for the validation. Taking those hugs in right now. Needing them. xoxox love to you
I admire you for what you wrote. For you, I would only hope that it is healing and helpful. Maybe sometime (before it’s too late) he will relent and realize… Be hopeful.
Paul
Thank you. This was healing, very healing. He called me today; so perhaps there is hope. 🙂
Do you feel better now and what are the chances of your father reading this.???? As a Father and Grand Father If my daughter felt like this I would want her to let me know… Death has a way of getting between the times of healing and regret continues on… My sister and I were not the best of friends.. and when she died at the age of 39 I spent years of regret having never made the attempt to right the wrongs… in fact it was one of the reasons I made sure that the rest of the family knew this, in the hope that all wrongs and hard feelings be corrected before the grim reaper plays a part in it… and again I ask, will your father get to read this.??
Bulldog; I adn’t spoken to my father since July. He just happened to call today, shortly after posting the letter. He did not know about the letter, but I told him. I did tell him what was on my mind. And I agree with you whole heartedly. I am sorry about you and your sister. I said my piece, today, in the letter and over the phone. I only hope he understands and isn’t hurt. Thank you for your words.
I’d just like to say, having come on your blog only very recently, what a beautiful place this is. Thank you. I weep with joy for you:)
That is a wonderful comment. Much appreciated. 🙂 Sam
I so very much relate with this. My father was never part of my life until a mere 4 years ago (I am 41). We were just barely starting to form some sort of relationship when he suddenly passed away. I am left with “what could have been”, “why didn’t you love me”, the entire gambit of emotions I will never have answers to. My thoughts and love are with you, dear one. Know that you are not alone in this.
I am so sorry for your loss. “Could have beens” are so very hard to process through. Huge hugs to you. Thank you for sharing. Sam
oh Sam i would hug you and hide you for as long as you wanted to…this is heart wrenching..i know i really do get you..
if only there was something an answer which could bring you peace but there isnt….some people..most actually are so limted in accepting new that it surprises me when the same try tagging aspergians with bookish knowledge..
you and my daughter are the most beautiful trustworthy best friends, daughters one can have and i am proud of both of you 🙂
love ya 🙂
Oh, to put me in the same field as your lovely daughter. What a huge honor that heals my heart and sets my spirit a glow with serenity and love. Thank you. You are a healer with your words and presence. I hope you know this to be a truth. Thank you dear Soma. You add a completion to my experience, that pulls me out of the processing and back on the road strengthened and lighter in presence. Many, many thanks. xo Sam
I know you just wanted to purge this – but I have to offer my understanding. What IS it about parental love that makes us need it so? My father chose to be absent – still is, and my step-father offers nothing on an emotional level that’s healthy. I’ve had very wise people point out that I don’t ‘need’ them or their acceptance. I need only to love myself – after all, parents are just humans who had sex and … voila. Pfft. I need it. I still strive to receive the love and acceptance I need from my mother, and have put many, many men through the wringer in place of my ‘dads’. I only hope my son doesn’t suffer from the absence of his father. I tell him not to take it personally, after all, he didn’t want to be a dad PERIOD, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to be HIS dad. I can only feed that line to him so long. One day he may realize that he needs that connection. Love to you. x
Really appreciate these words. So true. I think us fatherless chicks share a common bond and vulnerability. My dad had/has moments of being there for me. I know he does try his very best. This post helped a lot for me to forgive him and love him as is. I don’t have the pressure to be heard or seen by him anymore. Or the need to prove myself. So that’s all good. I am sorry you had to experience similar pain, but this does explain your deep soul. xo Sam