‘Daddy Issues’ And Such Pain It Causes

I never want to sleep with him again. As a matter of fact, I do not enjoy the sex despite the many screams I make myself make just to raise his ego. If I had my way, I would tell him he stank, I would tell him to wash his teeth a thousand times a day, but who was I to tell him all of those?

He on the other hand acts and sulks like a baby when I reject his advances. He makes it feel as though the whole world has crumbled at our feet; so, majority of the time, out of guilt, I give in to him (or for the most part, knowing how sulky he would become, not reject his advances at all). I wouldn’t know why sex is so much food for him despite him being a married man.

On the other hand, all I wanted, I wanted from him without a touch. I wanted a sense of security, being loved, and for the most part- being wanted. My daddy- a military man while growing up had no time for us, especially for the fact that we were all girls. He would travel all around the country with no responsibility of being a family man, especially a father. He had no idea how much we his daughters needed his presence in our lives. Times he came back, he was like a lion in the house, even in the neighbourhood. Perhaps he thought roaring every time like a lion would chase away men from our house- our house being a bevy of ladies. He would as well leave his sense of terror hanging in the air when he travelled, so men who once knew what his roar looked like, would stay meters away from his house, especially his wife.

My mum as well was a ‘mechanical’ mother.  She was as ‘hard’ as my dad and never knew how to hug. The first, and perhaps last time we hugged was when she was on a sick bed- before she died. That day, I had been so much lost in deep emotions that I had finished hugging and holding her tight before I got to remember hugging was never a part of routine for each other. However, she died the next day.

I’d always longed for someone to love and hold me- that male presence. Coincidentally, my dad has grown old too, wanting all the attention he never gave, but alas, it’s too late. I already learnt to live without him by finding ‘solace’ and ‘love’ in the hands of men who managed to say hi. I’ve found their maturity compelling, especially enough to make me feel seen (noticed), loved, and in some ways- accepted. The way they expect me to respond was giving them back sex. That was the language their own brokenness understood.

The men as well gives me money- in a way that makes me feel like a child, as though I was five again and being catered for; only this time around more keenly. The crave for the loving sense of a man led me to hanging around with men old enough to be my elder brother, and even fathers, and with time though unplanned- made me sleep with them since it felt sleeping with them was the only way I would feel the love and sense of warmth and security a part of my heart needed.

This is not a blame game session. I take responsibility for every action of mine, but what if my dad had constantly told me he loved me? And what if he actually showed it and I felt safe in his person, even in his absence? What if my mum too had hugged me almost every time and told me literally all day how much I meant to her? What if I had felt safe and secured in the shadow of my father? What if he actually made me feel loved, welcomed and keenly cared for- would I have been in the mess I am today? Besides, what mess do you think I am at the moment?

My name is Lara, and above is a little part of my story. We’ll get to talk some other time on the blog I believe. #DaddyIssues.  *sighs*.

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