“Hurt”

I have never felt this angry at my dad in my life.

Not while he was abusing me.

Not when he chose to never tell anyone.

Not when he acted surprised that I was affected by the abuse.

Not when he acted frustrated with me because he feels the right to have a relationship with me, despite abusing me for 13 years.

I never felt so angry at him that I hated him, even though he earned that type of anger many, many times.

I think this anger started when I pressed charges and chose to face the reality of what my dad had done and what he is still capable of doing.

It started when he was arrested and he pled “not guilty” to all of the charges.

When he chose to declare to the world, “I did not do any of those things to my daughter, I am innocent.”

When he, yet again, chose to dodge all responsibility for his actions.

When he, yet again, chose to put himself first no matter what the cost was for me.

The anger reached its peak when I chose to stop letting him hurt me.

I realized that he and I don’t have a relationship anymore and he has no right to be in my life in any way.

I realized that his actions are not personal attacks toward me, and if they are well, forget him, I’d rather be mad than hurt.

So I’m not hurt anymore, I’m enraged by his actions.

I don’t know if that’s better or worse honestly, I’m just so tired of getting hurt by him.

And yet, this does hurt.

This amount of anger, it causes an aching in me.

This anger has seeped into my heart and told me I hate him now.

It has grown and grown into a monster that tells me forgiveness is too hard.

This anger causes me to clench my fists and wish I could hurt him.

It causes bitterness so strong that I can almost taste it.

I say to myself, “at least he’s not hurting me anymore.”

But I have never felt this angry at my dad in my life, and that hurts me.

This aching hurts me.

It hurts me that I hate him.

It hurts me that I am struggling so hard to forgive him.

It hurts me, thinking I want to hurt him.

It hurts me to taste this bitterness in my mouth.

I am done being hurt by him, and I am done being angry with him. 

But what else is there for me to feel?

I can be sad I suppose, but I never liked that much either.

The truth is, I can’t just shut off my feelings and say, “I’m done feeling this, I’ll never feel it again.”

That’s not how it works.

It doesn’t make me weak to be hurt. 

It makes me human, a human going through an insanely difficult time.

I’m allowed to be hurt, I’m allowed to be angry.

It’s okay that it’s hard for me to forgive him right now, I just can’t give up.

It’s okay that I am experiencing things that are not okay to accept—like hatred, and un-forgiveness, and violence, and bitterness.

This is what persevering looks like. 

It’s not pretty, it’s not perfect.

It’s not simple or easy.

Persevering like this looks messy and gross.

I’ve had nights where I sobbed as my husband held me.

I’ve had mornings where I could hardly get out of bed.

I’ve collapsed to the ground in grief, I’ve cried out and cursed while I talked to God.

I had panic attacks back to back that lasted for an hour.

I’ve pushed myself to the limits when I should have given myself a break.

I’ve sunken into depression that felt so dark that I would never see the light again.

I am deeply hurt. I am severely wounded.

I am so angry it causes my soul to ache.

I have experienced sadness so intense that my body shook as I cried out in hopelessness and desperation.

That is the truth of it all. 

I could say I’ve grown and changed so much that my dads actions can no longer affect me, but that is not the case.

I have grown and changed so much that I now give myself permission to be human and to be hurt. 

I have given myself permission to feel again.

I know there is healing for me, but I know there can only be healing through hurting.

So I choose to let myself feel the painful things, however difficult that journey may be.

I have never felt this angry at my dad in my life.

The Story Behind the Poem

I wrote this poem on November 12th, 2021 in the midst of court dates and the back and forth of pressing charges and trying to reach a plea deal or go to trial. I think this was around the time when my dad’s lawyer offered a bogus plea deal that would have allowed my dad to serve a couple of years and be charged with much lesser crimes than what he actually committed.

I was so tired of the back and forth and the anticipation of going to trial, and then I was offered a possible end to this nightmare. I almost took this deal because I was so sick of the anxiety and trauma, and my dad and his lawyer must have known that I was exhausted and ready to be done. When I realized this was probably part of the strategy of offering me a bum deal at this time, it made me furious. The level of selfishness of my dad was just hard to even fathom. 

I wanted to be able to be unaffected by my dad and his actions. I wanted to be able to let it roll off my shoulder. I wanted to not care about my dad and act like he could never hurt me again. But that wasn’t the truth. The truth was I was angry, but I was also hurt. 

A daughter should never be in a trial against her dad for any reason, let alone because he sexually abused her. And now he was using dirty tactics to try to get me to give up. This was one of the most infuriating and demeaning things. This man’s selfishness knew no bounds. I thought I was healed enough that I could just get mad and move on. But it still hurt, and that made me even angrier.

I guess this poem was my way of giving myself permission to feel whatever I needed to and not be upset with myself for being human. It also allowed me to write down some of the trauma of what I was going through and to remember how hard this stuff really was. I remember being so angry when I sat down to write and then realizing all of the underlying emotions I was feeling too. I remember being so annoyed at the realization that my dad was still hurting me. I remember feeling so hopeless about if I was ever going to be done with this wretched process and if I would ever get any justice. 

Looking back now, I am so grateful I decided to write. It is surreal to read some of the things I wrote during the hardest times of my life and to know that I kept going even when I felt like I couldn’t. And during times that feel hard now, these writings help me to keep going. 

How I Feel Today: My Dad’s Birthday

I read this poem last night and I related so much to many of the things I was feeling 4 years ago. I have not been as angry, but I have been feeling very sad this week. It’s been awhile since I felt the things I’ve been feeling. It is so crazy to me that there were stretches of my life where I felt this sad all the time. I don’t know how I used to do it, besides that Jesus carried me through.

I felt myself getting very antsy and restless these last couple of weeks. I was always trying to do something to keep myself busy and I didn’t want to sit still. I didn’t want to think about anything. I just wanted to be numb. I didn’t realize I was doing this, and then I just ran myself into the ground. I painted my house for 15 hours throughout one week and did lots of other things trying to stay busy. I ended up feeling worse because I was running away from my thoughts and feelings.

So this week, I sat with God and I prayed. I wrote down my thoughts and feelings, pages and pages of them. I sat and cried to God and let myself fall apart. I can’t say I immediately felt better. Honestly, I felt worse through some of it, but you can’t go around your emotions and problems, you have to go through them. 

I remembered this line in the poem, “I know there is healing for me, but I know there can only be healing through hurting. So I choose to let myself feel the painful things, however difficult that journey may be.” I am proud of myself for continuing on that hard journey even today. 

I wondered why these feelings have been so strong and maybe it’s not entirely for this reason, but today is my dad’s birthday. I realized a couple of days ago and things started making a little more sense. I tend to struggle on anniversaries of dates that have to do with my dad. It used to be that I could count on every single one of these dates being hard. Now it doesn’t always happen, but sometimes it does.

So I’ve been thinking about my dad more this week after barely thinking about him for a while now. It’s like I have to remember all over again what he did and how it changed me forever. I remember that I am a survivor of abuse. I remember that my dad is in prison. And I feel a hole in my life.

I’ve noticed this year especially, there have been times when I just feel a lack in my life because I don’t have a good father. I have the best Father in the world, God, and yet I still feel emptiness at times where I should have a good earthly father too. Having God as my Father is what has held me together as long as I can remember, but just because I have Him, doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with difficult things in life, like not having a good dad. 

When I see the men in my life being good fathers to their kids, it is so beautiful and wonderful, but I have to fight the urge to feel envious and sad. When I hear stories from people about their dads and I see the amazing relationship they have, I have to fight the envy and sadness then too. Thankfully, I have reached a point where 99% of the time when there’s a good dad and or a child feeling secure in their relationship with their father, it gives me so much joy and happiness to see. But there’s that 1% of the time when I have to fight to not allow my own pain to overshadow something that’s good. I feel like I’ve been fighting that 1% a lot recently. 

As long as I am on this earth, I think there will be parts of me that deeply and desperately long to have a good earthly father. I’ll long for someone who is involved in my life, around to help me and give me advice, and there for me to lean on when things are hard. I’ll long for someone to joke around with and do stupid things together and make fun of. I’ll long for someone that loves the Lord with all their heart, can be a godly leader, and lives their life with integrity and purity. I will always long for that good father as long as I am here. Though I wish this longing and aching could go away on earth, it always ends up coming back.

I think this longing that I have points me even more to God my Father. I struggle with not being able to be physically with Him and receive a hug from him. I struggle with not being able to audibly hear His voice speaking to me. But someday, I will be with God my Father in heaven and every longing I have ever had for a good Father will be fulfilled by Him perfectly. I long for the day when I get to be with Him, but for now I will still ache. Thanks for showing up,

-Elena ❤