I maintain minimal contact with my father, communicating only a few times each year, primarily through text during major holidays. It’s been over a year since I last heard his voice. Guilt often creeps in; I question whether I’m being unjust. Hasn’t he faced enough consequences? Sometimes I even wonder if the actions I believe he committed are real.
This guilt looms larger during the holidays, a time meant for family gatherings, and I can’t shake the image of him alone in his messy apartment. It pains me to think that my absence might contribute to his unhappiness.
To cope, I have a mental checklist. It’s not physically written down, but I’ve rehearsed it so often that it feels ingrained in my mind. Each time I revisit it, though, I must tick off the items one by one, as they only come to light when I need them most.
The checklist begins with memories of inappropriate comments he made about me and my friends. I recall the unsettling way his gaze lingered on my friends’ bodies and the inappropriate remarks he made about their looks. He made conscious choices, I remind myself. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Then there’s the memory from when I was 14, experimenting with sunbathing on our roof. My father, suddenly eager to do yard work, seemed more interested in sneaking glances at me than tending to the garden. I used to think I was to blame for lying there, but now I recognize it for what it was—he was trying to look at me inappropriately.
I also think back to a conversation with my older sister, who once whispered about her friend’s unsettling experience with our dad. Though the details remain unclear, I can’t shake the feeling that something inappropriate occurred, even if my sister’s friend had a reputation for exaggeration. Regardless, I remind myself that something happened.
As I sift through these memories, the two most significant pieces of my checklist come to the forefront. Oddly, they always surface last, as if I subconsciously store them away because their weight is too much to bear.
The first memory is from when I was about 15. I awoke to a strange pressure between my legs, only to find my father looming over me in the dark. He claimed to be “fixing my covers,” a peculiar gesture considering he had never done that before. It took me a while to accept that he was attempting to touch me while I slept.
The final item on my checklist is my father’s internet history. In the late ’90s, when the internet was still new, our family computer sat in a common area. I discovered I could view the browsing history, and what I found was shocking—page after page of child pornography.
This information should have been sufficient. It should be a clear reason for severing ties with him, irrefutable evidence of his true nature. Yet, it’s always the last thing I consider, requiring me to go through my mental checklist first. It serves as my personal validation, reminding me that I’ve made the right choice in distancing myself.
Talking with others about trauma, I’ve learned I’m not alone in needing a checklist. A friend of mine has an abusive mother from whom they’ve cut ties. Despite receiving desperate emails begging for forgiveness, my friend leans on their mental checklist to combat feelings of guilt.
Another friend, a survivor of rape, reminds herself that she didn’t provoke her attacker. She has to actively work through her checklist to dispel the instinct to blame herself.
Self-blame is a common reaction among trauma survivors, and these checklists help us navigate the cycle of guilt. They are healthier ways to cope than simply accepting blame. Yet, it’s striking how I must revisit my checklist item by item, each time as if these steps are new to me.
Many trauma survivors share similar experiences, needing to tick off each item to reassure themselves that they’re justified in cutting out toxic family members. While logic tells us we’ve made the right decisions, trauma distorts our perception, leading us to doubt and question. Thus, we rely on our checklists.
Having just revisited mine, I may never rid myself of the guilt for distancing from my father, but in this moment, I know with certainty that I’ve done what’s necessary for my well-being.
In case you’re interested in exploring the topic of home insemination, check out this resource. Also, for more information on pregnancy, this Wikipedia article is an excellent resource. If you want to delve deeper into the emotional impact of trauma, consider reading about hurricane impact on relationships.
Summary
In this article, the author reflects on their decision to distance themselves from their father, grappling with feelings of guilt and the need for a mental checklist to justify their choice. The checklist includes memories of inappropriate behavior and unsettling incidents that serve as reminders of the father’s true nature. Through comparisons with others who have experienced trauma, the author highlights the common practice of using a checklist to combat self-blame and validate personal decisions.
Keyphrase: Why I Chose to Distance Myself from My Father
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