Vent here safely for Father’s Day

Vent here safely and anonymously (if you like) for Father’s Day. 

Same rules as always: No vent too big or small. Everyone’s pain is valid and doesn’t diminish anyone else’s. No Misery Poker. If you have any extra energy to give support to another commenter, please do.

Vent anonymously if you want to by putting in fake info.

Be gentle with yourself.

15 thoughts on “Vent here safely for Father’s Day”

  1. Oh god thank you.

    My marriage is not in a great place right now, and I’m resentful and angry and I KNOW he’s a good dad, but I still just am not feeling the whole perfect picture on Facebook right now and I have no idea what to buy him. Like part of me does not even want to ‘keep up appearances’.

    My dad is much closer to my two half brothers; I love him, but I kinda feel like the bastard stepchild. Literally.

    My stepdad and I aren’t close at all. I don’t dislike him, but there are aspects of him and my mom’s relationship that baffle me. (He gets anxious that things have happened to her if he hears of police activity in an area and has been known to jump in the car and track her down – doesn’t seem abusive or jealous otherwise – I think it’s just anxiety, but it’s worrisome to me.)

    I really feel like I hate this day and I’m totally feeling uncharitable and annoyed and unloved and all kinds of complicated things.

    Thanks for safe space.

  2. You’re nice to offer this.
    I don’t believe in a day where mothers and fathers should get preferential treatment. If kids need a day designated to show their appreciation, then somewhere there has been a failure in the parenting. My kids tell me they love me every day. I don’t see how it is different on the 2nd Sunday in May or the 2nd Sunday in June.

  3. This is timely- just finished looking at all the "wonderful dad" posts on FB. Reminds me of what I didn’t have or rather-once had but lost when he left when I was about 10. I never really had much of a relationship with him after that-what I did have was difficult to say the least. I’m 50, with my own family but I still feel envy and loss and rage and sadness for both of us and want to cry.

  4. so sick of the FB, how can every husband/father be awesome and amazing? going to stay off it for the rest of the day.

  5. Ah … yep … love my dad .. sober for 31 years .. and he was in a bar when I was born. Have worked through most of that …
    Having a problem with my niece’s post about her dad, my brother, how wonderful he is .. blah blah, blah, he is shunning me and will not speak to me … does it at family gatherings … will hug and say hello to the people on either side of me .. leaving me out … doesn’t he know others can see what he is doing ? Everyone thinks he is so great … he is so busy doing stuff for other people .. yet he has treated me like I don’t exist …

  6. I’ve always hated fathers’ day. As a kid it was because choosing between my father and my step-dad for this day was torture and always resulted in hurt feelings. Now it’s because my husband is driving me crazy and does NOT need another excuse for me to do everything around here.

  7. My parents were so miserable together when I was growing up that my dad basically checked out of our home life for the first 18 years of my life. I wish they’d divorced when I was young, because it wasn’t until they did that I had any sort of relationship with him. He’s a good guy that had to put up with a lot of shit from my mom and it wasn’t until we were both free from her toxic clutches that we got to know one another. Now he’s 70 years old and in poor health and I live 2000 miles away in another country, and I worry every time I see him that this may be our last time together.

    I miss him so much. I wish I’d gotten to know him sooner.

  8. I have no idea how many children my "father" has. It kills me. I have not spoken to him in 24 years. I don’t plan on changing that since he’s a violent coke head.

  9. Father’s day is tricky. I am eternally thankful for so many skills and traits that I inherited, learned, or defensively taught myself because of my father. And I can now speak quite kindly and openly of all he did/was rather than focusing only on what he was incapable of doing/being. It was a hard-won peace that I quite thankfully settled into well before his death though we were still estranged.

    Serendipitously/ironically he died and took any lingering hurt/regret with him which I believed freed/opened me up to meet and connect to the man that would be come my husband and now father to my new-ish born son. Father’s day had for decades been an albatross (and often fell on/around my birthday to add insult to injury) but now I’m looking at it from a completely fresh perspective. My husband is a good father in many ways mine was not. But I can also see qualities (both positive and negative) of my father in him and I work to encourage the former and address the latter.

    I’m convinced my father would have made a fantastic grandfather. In fact I know he was to my step-siblings’ children. So this is the first Father’s Day in a very long time that I wished he was still alive and in my life. My father was adopted and I think in addition to all the other wonders and pride of being a grandparent he would have enjoyed having just one more person walking (or crawling) the planet that he knew he was genetically connected to.

  10. Thank you for doing this. My father fought the determination of paternity, keeping it out of court until I was 3 years old. Then, he inexplicably insisted on visitation rights. And on the first Sunday he got visitation rights, he started sexually abusing me. Brutally. Ritualistically. Unrelentingly like clockwork every Sunday morning after he picked me up after church. Somewhere, there are photographs. I remember being bound and blindfolded with neckties, stood blind and bound on a stool afraid to move in case I fell. I think I remember everything–until something reminds me of some brutal piece that was even beyond the normal horror and too painful to remember. He kept me silent with a campaign of fear that was diabolical. I won’t recount it here because I wouldn’t want to be the one to give another abuser any ideas. Let’s just say it was masterful and subtle and effective. At age 13, I finally took the chance and cut off contact. He raged and stomped, but he didn’t push it because he was terrified I’d tell them the real reason why. The heartbreaking part of all of it for me is that through it all, I desperately wanted him to love me. I wanted him to hold me on his lap and read to me, every time hoping against hope that it wasn’t just the prelude to what was coming–but it always was. And, later, when I confronted him in a parking lot, quietly telling him that he didn’t get away with it–I still wanted him to apologize. He couldn’t, and he shot himself to death three months later, the morning after the police questioned him and told him, "You say you didn’t do it; she says you did. We’ve heard your side, and we’re going to interview your (later adopted) children, your grandchildren, the children in your ministry at church." He knew he was going to be exposed. I’m still sorry, somehow, that he made the choice he did. I forgive you, Dad.

  11. Wow. My vent is just a stupid complaint. If you can afford to buy whatever you want, can’t you PLEADE hold off if there is a holiday approaching where your daughter can get you something? And when you say hey don’t buy me anything and then act disappointed but extactic with the child that did get you something… Um wtf? Now that I have my own family, it feels that way. Like I disowned my born into family, I feel left out.

  12. So I was going to complain about how my ex hypocritically says he wants to be with his kids "every waking minute" even to the point of fighting me for custody (though he works an odd-shift job and physically cannot be with the kids), yet I returned my son’s voice mail yesterday only to find out my ex thought it was so important to be with his kids on fathers day that he foisted them off on his parents. So yeah. Then I read David’s Daughter’s post. And I realize my life isn’t that bad. Hugs to you all. Parents sometimes suck. I just hope I’m not screwing up my kids too badly!

  13. I grew up in an abusive household. I thought at an age when most of my friends had kids in HS, I was ready to chose the person with whom I wanted to share my successful life – educated, doing well in my field and with a community of friends, I was no longer a broken child. I started strong, but my unconscious choices still led me to a bully – in a family of bullies. And my old training kicked in when I became physically ill. I respected this man so much that I turned to old thoughts – I must be doing something wrong – because he’s a good person, so – work harder, Give in, try to do better, avoid confrontation, try harder, accept the pain, hide it inward, i am wrong… i am bad… i am unworthy of affection and respect… it spirals deeper and deeper – lasting a decade – even while I find better doctors, ways to heal my body… I am back in my childhood, my life returns to crawling up a sand dune, every foot I climb up – dumps another load of sand, and it’s my fault, i am being unreasonable, i cause my own suffering, i cause the suffering of others, no matter how reasonable and well presented/considered – my requests will never be respected – rarely about the home, even more rarely about my career. The sand will always be shoveled from beneath me and dumped on top of me… for the rest of my life. I have to leave, but it will mean hurting and leaving others. And I am nearly 60, it will be hard, there will never be any form of retirement for my lifetime. At least as a child I knew that someday I could get free and build a life. Now all that work was for nothing.

    While in front of others he says I’m smart and capable and good at what I do. My adult step kids tell me I make their dad so happy. Yet he treats me worse every week. I try to support a happy Father’s day, but he just used it as another stage to bully me. He is emotionally detached from the world, yet must be the one in control. The smiles and ritual hugs are just randomly sprinkled through our lives along with the ‘meaningful’ sharing of HIS work and ideas. But there is no connection coming from him. It’s just an empty, camouflage of scaffolding , a stage pretending to hold something besides my lost hope and his ego.

  14. A couple of weeks ago I was in a dark period in my life, the man I love to bits had gone off with someone else, that was when I was told about this Esango Priest. Well he told me he could see that we would get back together that gave me hope, and he was right, because this week we have moved in with each other and we are so happy. A big thank you to Esango Priest. If you are in need of an angel please get in touch with my Esango Priest via

  15. Why did I think I’d have the most bitter post? Why did I assume that my story was so special? Then I read David’s Daughter’s comment, and Father’s Day Sucks: Sucked Then, Sucks Now’s comment and saw how very wrong I was. I hope you both someday find some good fathering within yourselves and in the world to reframe just a corner of the hateful pain wreaked upon you.

    Though today is long past Father’s Day, I’ve only recently uncovered just how much that day sucked for me this year. My husband’s and my relationship has degraded consistently for years. We’ve been to counseling, I’ve called him out on his demeaning, belittling, increasingly emotionally & verbally abusive behavior, and he finally started getting treatment and medication a few months ago for PTSD. I thought there might be hope. I invited him and his dad (in town for a visit) to our 5-year-old’s last T-ball game of the season on Father’s Day. There, we received the team photos, and the kids and I handed them the mug with photos of said kid on baseball team on it we’d gotten for them for fathers day. I even gave special magnets and photos to father-in-law. Then two weeks later, husband takes the kids "on a camping vacation." I did their laundry and helped them pack. Then husband took the kids to his second, secret home, had me served divorce papers at my new job, and ransacked the apartment while I was at work. He tried to get me deemed an unfit mother and claim the kids weren’t safe with me, over some truly trumped-up bullshit. It really was as trivial as "son bumped his head once and fell and skinned his elbow another time." Luckily I could prove the level of care I’d given which was in no way negligent. And soon-to-be-ex-husband was denied emergency custody. He continued to hide the children for 2 more weeks until I managed to get him back in front of a judge, who somewhat equalized the situation. I continue to discover new evidence that soon-to-be-ex and his WHOLE family was planning this ambush for more than a year.

    I don’t hold anything against father’s day as a concept. But right now, I can’t look at it without feeling sick about how several fathers plotted to rip my children away from me, and feel even more protective of mothers. I am grateful to the judge (another father) for seeing through the bullshit and handing back the rights -and children – that should never have been able to be taken from me, and ignoring the distortions.

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