The Letter of Apology I Will Never Get From My Dad
*With an outline of how to do the exercise for yourself at the bottom.
Hey kiddo,
So yeah. I don’t think I’ll ever say this stuff out loud so it might as well be something you pretend I’ve said to you on my behalf.
Wow. You’ve done some amazing things despite how your mom and I set you up. I know you’re a parent yourself now, so you get that we did the best we could. The best that was in our mental capabilities. But you’ve also come to realize that we absolutely could have done better had we been capable of self-reflection and self-insight that is needed to even want to try.
I wish I had the capacity to care to research, to ask others why they took the steps they did with their kids. But asking others would have forced me in a weird way to admit that I was doing something wrong. Or that I didn’t know what I was doing. And as you know from trying to talk things out so many times in the past decade. I can’t do that. I just can’t. I don’t have the vocabulary, the insight, and honestly the interest in doing that. So that’s really cool that you do.
Every time you’ve tried to talk to me and make repairs, you’re asking for a lot of vulnerability. I can’t fix the past. I can’t fix how I’ve been. But admitting fault would mean I also have to work on myself in the future. And that’s hard. That’s a commitment I just can’t make. Sorry. I mean, I’m not really sorry because you’re asking for a lot by asking for that, but I am sorry in concept.
You tried to come at it fairly, but oh boy, there’s lots of big feelings in there, huh? Maybe I should not have asked you to make a list of things I’ve done to upset you, only to refute every item on the list saying that it was because you were a tough, even rotten, selfish kid. Sorry.
I had to tell myself that I was protecting myself from your awful behavior. But really, you were just a kid. You got great grades, were surrounded by friends, passed your SATs decently, got into a good school without any of my help. (Well, not without any help. I got you into this country, didn’t I?) That’s gotta be a sign that you were a half-decent, capable human at least.
But it was also a mark of you getting better than me at this whole human-ing thing. I saw you volunteer, absorb every ounce of knowledge you could. I saw you struggle with your sexuality and identity and honestly it looked really hard to deal with. No one told me that kids come with their wants and needs. In our day, they were just made knowing you needed someone to take care of you when you got old. But now that you don’t want to do that, I’m realizing that maybe that wasn’t the best idea.
Looking back, maybe if I was there for those hard things instead of mocking you, you’d want to spend more time with me now. If I didn’t tell you everything about you, who you liked, who you did/didn’t sleep with, what you liked, then, maybe once you embraced those parts of you, you’d still want to talk to me. But they were all so ridiculous and hard for me to understand that it was easier to mock you than self-reflect. I wish I didn’t now.
You, on the other hand. You’re so insightful. You are so caring. You are so deliberate and thoughtful. So smart. It must be all the reading and talking you do. I don’t know. I used to think that this was because you were just trying to trick me to admit fault. But it’s really because you needed a dad that was motivated to teach you and care for you because he loved you. And I do love you. But I love the image I have of myself way more.
Look if I really thought about it, I’d realize it was so messed up that I made you live with your sister because I really couldn’t fit you into my new family. (Actually, to add to that, she was really the one who helped bring you back to US after your mom kidnapped you, huh?).
She was only 23 and you were 14. That was asking a lot. It was also messed up that I blamed the both of you for not getting along better. That I continually forced a wedge between you two by speaking to each of you behind your back.
But it really was because I saw the bond you two had. I saw that you were also struggling monetarily and emotionally because of how much was expected of you and I kind of realized it was my fault. But I really didn’t want to handle that so it was easier for me to blame both of you and drive you apart, so I wouldn’t have to deal with the feelings it brought up in me.
Now that you have your own kid, you likely understand the depth of my self-importance to see that I must really not even be able to comprehend the needs of others. That’s the only way to explain how I treated you because I don’t think you’d ever hurt your kid like I hurt you. You’re an amazing, caring mom. You’ll mess him up in some new way, but at least it won’t include generations of trauma passed onto you too.
I know it takes real, hard, exhausting effort to not take your anger out on him for everything he does wrong. I don’t know or understand how you do it. But it’s really cool that you do.
I never tried unless it was in front of other people. But man, that must have messed with you because you would then constantly second guess what I actually meant. And other people would tell you how ungrateful you were when your dad was so amazing. Again, I did it out of self-preservation. But I am sorry because seeing it laid out like this, it seems pretty messed up.
With all of that, I still say you are choosing to stay the person you are. You’ve made up illnesses for yourself because you want attention. ADHD, Anxiety, those were not things I understand. Both as an immigrant from Russia and just like, as a normal guy, you know?
I’ve never been depressed. I’ve found that drinking some whiskey at night helps quiet any buzzing thoughts or extra energy I have any time of the day. Maybe a beer. It’s weird that you don’t drink, but I’m sorry I don’t get it enough that I mock you instead of listening. Even if, when I do listen I find you so insightful.
You’re so smart. I tell you all the time. I wish that was a reflection of my raising you. I mean, in a way it is, because my making things this hard on you meant that you always wanted to be better. I think you can be perfect one day. I really do. Sorry, I might not see it.
I wish you talked to me more. I wish you called more. And I know you’ve said that if I worked on myself, talked to a therapist, screamed less every time I saw you and blamed you less for situations are you not even present in, you would. But also, listen, listing all of this out, it sounds really hard. And I just… I don’t have the time or energy to deal with that and my own needs.
I’m sorry I’m not the dad you need now. Or the dad you needed. But I am so grateful for the men in your life who you’ve found fulfill that role better. Whether that’s your father-in-law, who listens and gives caring, self-less advice. Or the boss that mentored you into believing you could be more. Or your husband who got you to go the therapy. I’m sorry you had to find a dad all piecemeal. But so glad you did. You do what you gotta do, right?
Sorry kiddo. You know. I really am.
I learned about writing such a letter from Dr Becky. She recently had a guest on her podcast, Good Inside, who’s father passed and who wrote a letter to himself of all the things he wished he said. My dad is still alive, but I wanted to try writing a similar letter. It’s a very open-ended exercise. Think of someone who’s hurt you and work through what you wish they could say to you.
Or maybe a letter you wish you could write to someone you have hurt, that really, truly owns up to and apologizes for the action you regret.
I’d love to read your letters if you choose to write one too. Please comment and link me to them!
Warmly,
M
