Captive By Choice

Dear Dad

I've grown weary of trying to calculate how long it's been since we last had contact. It always feels too long so I don't even bother anymore.

Today is Freedom Day. I'm trying to think of all the reasons why I feel free. It's a mission, which is odd since counting the reasons why I feel trapped are plenty. I am a slave of my inability to move past all of the things you have done to me, and all the things you have failed to be to me. I want so badly not to care anymore, to know I am free of all this resentment, but I am not.

When I was young I never noticed that anything was missing. I didn't realise that all people had mothers AS WELL as fathers. I reckoned fathers were like any other material acquisition - a luxury or a burden but never a necessity. When I was 5 years old, I had an argument with a girl on the playground. She told me that mommies can only have babies if they have a husband. I told her, in my juvenile vocabulary, that that was nonsense since my mommy had me without having ever had a husband. I argued for so long that that girl eventually shut up and conceded to my being right. I believed every word I said in defence of my mommy. Because for some reason I knew that I was defending her, not me. She must've been super human, I decided, for being able to conceive without having a husband, where other mommies needed a man to help them give the gift of life. After that day, I loved my mommy a little bit more. And everytime I gave her a Mother's Day gift that said "World's Greatest Mommy", I believed those words with everything inside of me.

It took until I was 12 years old to realise that because of some strange phenomenon, babies don't happen without there being two people involved; one male, one female. It took me entering my twelfth year of seeing my friends walk with their hands in the daddies' hands to realise that something was missing. It took me being forced for five years of primary school to make Happy Fathers' Day cards against my will to realise that maybe there was a memo I hadn't gotten. And when my mom eventually told me the truth about you, I was okay with it. I had met enough nasty people on the playground to know that some people just aren't nice. I threw you into that category, and forgot you there for five years.

My entire childhood was tarnished because I grew up shielded by lies. That said, I'm still grateful to my mother for having shielded me from the hurt of knowing you existed but didn't care enough to be around. Eternally grateful. Knowing the truth isn't easy, and this truth has held me captive ever since Mama died and you walked into my life. That, however, is a story for another day. I just want you to know, "Dad", that you stole a piece of my happiness, and everyday it hurts.

Until I find peace, somehow, some way, I am not free. Freedom will come when I forgive you, and right now, I'm not ready to do that.

Yours, Unfortunately

Ithu