During my upbringing, my childhood seemed ordinary at first glance, but one morning altered everything. I was seven when I felt something was wrong—my dad, who typically hurried to work, was at home. Later that day, I found out my parents were separating. It was a bewildering, distressing period. From that moment forward, I resided in two households, frequently packing bags and managing strained interactions between parents who detested being near one another.
Amidst the turmoil, my connection with my dad served as my stability. We participated in all activities together fishing, swimming, trips to Disneyland, and even early drives to swim competitions. He was my steady support, my shield, and we had an intimacy that nobody else could reach.
At the same time, my mother struggled with alcoholism. Although I can’t remember all the specifics, I remember her being gone and the worry that she may not come back. I would ring her repeatedly, usually without receiving a response. That’s when my anxiety started. I couldn’t stand being away from my dad. Even brief visits to the restroom would trigger my anxiety. By the time I was in fourth grade, I was unable to go to school without him. He even attended class with me, attempting to calm my anxieties, but it didn’t suffice. Ultimately, I was educated at home and started receiving therapy.
Therapy gradually made a difference, particularly after my mom participated. I started to operate independently without requiring my dad nearby all the time. However, as anxiety diminished, anger emerged—directed at my parents for their divorce, for moving forward, and for finding affection with others. I perceived their new partners as dangers and reacted intensely, particularly to my mom. My actions intensified until she decided to send me to live permanently with my dad, while she kept my sister with her. I took it as rejection.
At the age of 13, I consumed my first alcoholic beverage, and it dulled all sensations. Before long, I yearned for that escape more frequently. When there was no alcohol, I resorted to self-harm to manage. My father eventually found out about the marks on my arms and was heartbroken. Nevertheless, I concealed the worst aspects from him
During high school, I kept my grades up to avert any suspicion while engaging in partying and trying out drugs. Following graduation, my use of substances increased, leading me into a chain of unhealthy relationships. I had a daughter, but my addiction grew into a reliance on pain medications—up to 40 daily if I could handle it. I deceived, thieved, and fell further into chaos. My father stepped in, gaining custody of my daughter and conducting unexpected drug tests, yet I still managed to outsmart him.
At the age of 26, I reached my lowest point. Unemployed, financially struggling, and embarrassed, I had a meltdown one morning outside a fast-food place and reached out to my dad, finally sharing everything with him. He did not criticize me. He arranged for my treatment without delay. When I pleaded to go on the first day, he suddenly cried—for the first time ever in my life. His suffering compelled me to remain and battle for my survival.
Forty-two days later, I exited treatment feeling completely transformed. However, the journey to recovery is not linear. A setback happened when I got back in touch with a former lover. My father intervened once more with tough love—providing assistance or additional rehab. I decided to assist myself.
I went back to meetings, reestablished positive relationships, completed cosmetology school, and ultimately met the man who would turn into my husband. My father, being very careful, ultimately embraced him warmly. That instance validated the progress I had made.
On my wedding day, while he accompanied me down the aisle, I glanced up and noticed him crying—just the second time I’ve seen that in my life. This time, it stemmed from pride and happiness. That instant, brimming with love and salvation, will remain with me eternally. He stood by me during every peak and valley, always believing in me.
Thank you, Dad for being my refuge, my champion, and my motivation to persevere.
Affection,
Gander
