"Tiniest Violin"
I grew up without a father. At age 6, due to infidelity and abuse, my mother served my father with divorce papers. At age 32, he married a 19-year old girl. My mother tried to keep in touch for us girls. His new wife's reply was "He's my man now." Way to go, Dad. I never saw or heard from him again. No cards, birthday gifts, Christmas gifts, or phone calls. He was ordered to pay $175/month child support for me and my sister. He had 3 more children with the woman he cheated on my mother with. He couldn't afford me, but he could make more?
I feel for the young women who have lost fathers who actually provided for them and respected their mothers. Don't linger too long on the loss. The pity party won't get you anywhere in this economy. Toughen up, hold your head high, and know that you are ahead in life because your father actually gave a sh*t about you.
Growing up without a father shaped much of my perspective on life and resilience. Like many others who’ve faced similar difficulties, I learned early on that the absence of a parent, especially due to circumstances like infidelity and neglect, can leave deep wounds. Yet, it’s that very challenge that taught me the importance of toughening up and finding strength from within. I remember feeling abandoned, not just emotionally but materially—missing birthday cards, gifts, or even simple phone calls. My experience isn’t unique; many daughters face the harsh reality of losing fathers to war, neglect, or choices that prioritize others over family. I saw firsthand how my father had children with another woman and prioritized them over the support he was ordered to provide for me and my sister. What helped me move forward was recognizing the need to avoid the 'pity party' mental trap. Crying for lost fathers, whether to war or abandonment, is natural, but lingering in sorrow doesn’t change the circumstance—it only sets you back. Instead, holding your head high and acknowledging your own worth, especially knowing that others have been fortunate to have fathers who cared, is empowering. One phrase that stuck with me and that I’ve found useful when supporting others is: "If I blocked you, that means 'Toughen up, buttercup.'" It serves as a tough-love reminder that resilience is key. Empathy should extend toward those who have lost fathers who loved and respected their families, but for those of us raised without that support, it’s about creating strength and forging our own paths. For young women going through similar hardships, my advice is to focus on self-growth and building a support system among friends, mentors, or community groups who understand these challenges. Don’t let the absence define you—rather, let it motivate you to succeed and break cycles of neglect. Remember, you are ahead in life simply because you learned to survive what others might not even face. This journey is tough, but it’s also a testament to your resilience and capacity for growth.
