An Open Letter to my Father

Dear Dad,

It’s been years since we last spoke. I was pregnant with my first child; you were sectioned in a psychiatric hospital again. I’d visited you there many times over the years, as a child and as an adult. I feel I owe you an explanation as to why I had to walk away.

 
My childhood seems like a good place to begin. I vividly recall you telling me at Family Court, right before you were stripped your parental responsibility and visitation rights, that I was strong like you. You told me this strength was what enabled me to endure and withstand all of the pain. That day was the first and only time I saw you cry. I remember how hard you hugged me; how tightly you clung to me. Your exact final words as I was escorted from the room were: 'God, I love you, kiddo.'

What you may not know is that it wasn’t any perceived strength that allowed me to speak to you that day when my brother refused. It was the panic button located beneath the Family Report Writer's desk. That discrete button and her reassurance that help would quickly arrive if she pressed it was what really enabled my participation.

Despite this, I'm glad I saw you that day. It remains embedded in my mind and has comforted me many times over the years. That memory reminds me that you were just a broken man. You didn’t mean to inflict the damage you caused, and you were suffering too. I know that now.

It's true I am like you in some ways. I inherited my bipolar disorder from you, for one thing. With this inheritance came a deep understanding and compassion for your struggles but also frustration that you couldn't accept your illness as I learned to; not even for the sake of your children. Because of your reluctance to accept long-term treatment, we were robbed of a father and our childhoods were etched in trauma and terror.  

Your choices did teach me a lot though and I am grateful for that. These were lessons only you had the power to instil in me. Your lifestyle showed me what not to do as a parent with a mental illness.  

Because I grew up witnessing the horror that is untreated bipolar, I'm able to be the best version of myself. While this will never be perfect, I can hold tight when the storms come, safe in the knowledge that it never rains forever. Perhaps if things happened differently, I wouldn’t have known any better and it would have been your grandchildren’s childhoods destroyed by me. There is always a reason things occur the way they do.

Please hear me when I say, I do forgive you and I do love you. I'll always love you and you'll always be my father. I no longer blame you for any of what happened. It is what it is.

It was the last time we spoke that made me see I couldn't continue our toxic relationship. I did try. I fought as long and as hard as I could to hold on to you. But all that time, I was holding onto the hope that you would change, while you refused to relinquish your hatred and bitterness towards the woman you chose to bring me into this world with; my mother.  

Over 20 years later and still you were unable or unwilling to accept any fault or wrongdoing on your part; two decades of your threatening to sue the hospital every time you were involuntarily admitted for an illness you claimed was non-existent. It became clear to me that I couldn't expose my child to your mayhem. The time came to close off my heart. It was not easy, nor was it a decision I made lightly, please know that.

You told me I was strong but you see, I am not strong enough to run from our bipolar as you did. Instead I lie bleeding and vulnerable at its feet. It is equal parts blessing and curse to feel everything so very deeply but I wouldn’t change it.  My bipolar is the part of you I’ll always have with me.

I love you, Dad. Thank you for the lessons.

Sincerely,

Your only daughter xo

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