An Open Letter to my Father

Dear Dad,

I remember one night when I was maybe ten. It was a weekend or a holiday, so there was no reason to be up early the next morning, and I suspect I couldn't sleep. I was standing in the living room in my nightgown, and instead of sending me off to bed, you said I could stay up with you. You and I, you said, were night people (and we both had a sweet tooth). We were special, not like the rest of the world, not like Mom and my brother "Rob" (sorry, I've changed names around a bit) and everyone else who was in bed fast asleep. So, like co-conspirators, we snuck off to the kitchen for cookies and milk, and we stayed up watching a late night rerun of Star Trek. You and I were always alike, always a little team. I was Daddy's girl. I was just like you. I was special. And I was proud of that.

I know you love me very much, and I know you want my life to be better than good, you want it to be perfect. You pushed me hard in school because you wanted me to live up to my potential; you wanted me to achieve all that you saw I could, so that I'd have no regrets. You wanted me to marry a man who would treat me like the princess you always treated me as. You wanted me to go to the best school, have the smartest friends, have the most successful life, because you wanted me to be happy. And I wanted to live that perfect life too, not just for me, but to make you proud, not to disappoint you, because I was Daddy's girl and I was special.

So, I went off to that big name school and found that success comes at a price to one's sanity and one's soul. And I married a kind and loving man who treated me like a princess and found that came at a price too. My husband is a sex addict. I haven't told you or Mom, because I knew how hard it was for you to accept him into the family in the first place. And I knew you loved me too much to let go of the anger you would feel at someone who hurt me the way he has. He's a good man and a good father, and I knew the things he'd done would blind you to that. And I wanted you to go on seeing him that way, the way I still do see him.

And part of the reason I haven't said anything is because I thought you might think you should have done something differently -- or worse that you might think that I thought you should have done something differently -- to protect me from this. But there wasn't.

My life hasn't been perfect, and my marriage hasn't been perfect, and I haven't always been honest or felt safe letting you see that. And that's ok too, because it doesn't mean you didn't do a fabulous job as a parent, and it doesn't mean I don't love you. It only means that I'm human, and that's ok. I'm where I want to be. I'm where I need to be. I'm doing the things I want and need to do. I wouldn't have made it this far toward real happiness without walking through some fire. I am who I am because of you, because of all of you the wonderful and the painful. I'm still Daddy's girl. And I'm still proud of that.

I love you,
Me