There’s no specific memory of my father showing up when I really needed him, but the ones that stick out are the times he wasn’t there. I don’t remember him at any of my birthday parties—no phone calls to wish me happy birthday, no special moments shared. It felt like he wasn’t absent for everything, but just the things that mattered the most. He was present, but not in the ways that I needed.
JOURNAL PROMPT: WAS YOUR FATHER THERE DURING THOSE BIG MOMENTS IN YOUR LIFE? WHAT DID YOUR FATHERS PRESENCE OR ABSENCE TEACH YOU ABOUT LOVE AND RELATIONSHIPS?
Looking back, I realize that his absence in those key moments shaped the way I saw relationships with men in my 20s. I didn’t expect much from the men I dated because, deep down, I believed that was just how men were. If my father—the first man in my life—couldn’t show up for me emotionally, how could I expect anything different from the men I allowed into my life? The Man who was suppose to love and protect me dropped the ball.
The emotional labor, especially around my birthdays, fell entirely on my friends (but that’s a topic for another post). My father’s inconsistency set the bar low. It taught me to accept bare minimum efforts as love because, somewhere in my mind, that’s just what men do.
JOURNAL PROMPT: WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HAVE FOR MEN? DOES HE HAVE TO PLAN YOUR BIRTHDAYS AND CELEBRATE YOUR SUCCESSES WITH FLOWERS AND CANDY?
But here’s the truth: that narrative was all wrong.
It wasn’t until I started doing the deep, internal work—healing my abandonment wounds, processing my emotions, and understanding my patterns—that I began to rewrite those beliefs. I learned that I was worthy of consistent, intentional love. Love that shows up, not just sometimes, but all the time.
Now, I no longer accept inconsistency from others. I’ve learned to raise my standards, not because I expect perfection, but because I know what I deserve. And most importantly, I know now that love should feel safe, reliable, and whole—not something you have to chase or hope for.
Doing this healing work wasn’t easy, but it allowed me to reclaim the power I had unknowingly given away for years. I’ve come to understand that just because my father didn’t show up the way I needed doesn’t mean I have to continue attracting that same energy. I can choose better, love better, and most importantly—love myself first.
PS: Healing your Father Wounds Training goes live Thursday but you can get the early bird price of $22 if you book now.
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