I am a normal teenage girl whose parents divorced when I was three. I would visit my dad every other weekend and live with my mom for the rest of the week. It did not really bother me that they separated because I was so little when it happened, but my relationship with my dad began to change. His comments and actions began to chip away at me. I felt like I was just someone renting out a room in his house on the weekends. Gone were the days when I was daddy’s little girl.

I felt like I became his personal babysitter. He would call me in the morning requesting that I help him take care of his babies. The feeling of me being his daughter was gone. When he needed something from me, I would do it. But when I needed something from him, it would feel like he was forcefully trying to get things out of the way. It was like he was trying to quickly clear his schedule of me. Or, he was just trying to clear his life of me.

It did not help that I was struggling academically. I struggled in math class during my last year of middle school. It got to the point where I had to go to Saturday school to get additional support. I am my father’s daughter on the weekends. My mom called to inform him that it was his responsibility to take me to Saturday school. His response was, “I don't understand why she is struggling with math. Her Nino offers her help but she doesn’t take it. She is just making excuses.” I heard every word. I remember every word. He made me feel like I wasn’t trying hard enough. My own father made me feel stupid.

I felt like a burden. I could not even ask for new clothes because I was reminded that I was a financial burden to his new family. It was insinuated that even feeding me was hurting their budget. I was left with hand-me-down clothes, often hungry, and miserable because I did not matter to my dad and his new family. All of my feelings would build up inside of me. I was too afraid of telling him how I felt. I did not want to add the additional burden of my emotions on him. All of the late nights that I stayed up crying, all of the times I cried when I got back to my mom’s house, all of that anger and frustration was building up inside of me. Dealing with these emotions and their actions was draining.

However, I eventually broke, in September 2022. I remember it was a dark cold night. When I broke, I felt like I had done something wrong. I usually don't tell my dad about my feelings for fear of upsetting or annoying him and his new family. When I broke, I told him how I felt. I couldn’t breathe. I was shaking. I was red from crying. I was crying so hard that I eventually got a headache. The little voice in my head kept telling me that I messed up and that what I did was wrong. Sometimes I feel mad at myself because of my actions. When I broke, I felt like I drove that side of my family away. I do not see them anymore. I miss them so much. I miss the family BBQs and get-togethers. However, when I broke, it allowed me to let go of everything I was holding in.

Although I am happy that I got everything off of my chest, the memory of the argument keeps me up at night. I am not sure if my words meant something to him that day. I am still processing everything. I am letting go of the situation and building stronger relationships with my mom's side of the family and I have people I can talk to about this situation who are my support system.

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