Confession Number One: I Crave Paternal Affection

My very first confession comes from a longing I’ve had since I was a young girl. I’ve always wanted a loving, doting father. A kind, gentle, loving paternal figure. Someone to protect me, to get mad when I say a boy mistreated me, to be my first valentine, my biggest fan. Instead, I was met with someone who was hateful, who tore me down from the very first second that I started to make memories. He burned into my mind that even at my prettiest, I’m ugly – even at my most successful, I’ve failed. I had to witness absolute horror between him and my mother, and when I started showing signs of depleting mental health, I was met with ridicule. I just needed to be loved, I desperately needed and wanted a dad.

I don’t talk to my dad anymore. A few times over the last decade I’ve gone months to years with no contact and then would suddenly reconnect, because I felt guilty for setting boundaries. This most recent time, he told me that I either had to forget everything he put me and my mom through, or “part ways.” This was the first time he ever decided to distance himself from me. I was shocked, but also incredibly offended – who was he to part ways with me? He was the one who continued to gaslight, abuse, and torment me into my adult years. It’s been a couple of years now, and I still have nightmares. I also still desire, with so much of my soul, to have a father figure. Unfortunately, my desperation for paternal love puts me in an awkward position with the men in my life. All a man has to do is smile at me and I melt. It doesn’t take much from a man to make me want to be whoever they want me to be. I want acceptance from men, I want men to think I’m something special. Not in a romantic way, but really just in general. I know this to be true especially since I crave these things primarily from older men. It’s painful, confusing, and unfortunately a reality for so many former foster youth. I just miss the dad I never got to experience, so I'm looking for him in the community around me.

I’m embarrassed by this confession. I wish I was bold enough, strong enough even to say I don’t need a man. I don’t need a father, a father figure, a male mentor, or paternal love. I want it so badly though. I want someone to want to love me in the way I should have been loved when I was a child. Do I forever mourn the loss of what should have been, or do I continue to allow myself to crave this concept that may never come to fruition?