I maintain minimal communication with my father, primarily exchanging messages on major holidays. The last time I actually heard his voice was over a year ago. This lack of contact often leaves me feeling a wave of guilt. Am I being unjust? Hasn’t he suffered enough? I frequently question whether he truly committed the acts I believe he did that led to our estrangement.
This guilt tends to amplify during the holiday season when family unity is emphasized. I picture my father alone in his cluttered apartment, and it’s hard not to feel that I contribute to his loneliness.
To navigate these feelings, I have created a mental checklist — a list I’ve internalized over time but still need to consciously revisit. It reveals itself only when I require reassurance.
My Checklist
My checklist begins with the unsettling memories of the inappropriate comments my father made toward me and my friends. I recall how his gaze lingered too long on young, developing bodies and how he expressed admiration for my friends’ appearances. I remind myself that he made deliberate choices and understood the implications of his actions.
Then there’s a memory from my teenage years. At 14, I attempted nude sunbathing on our flat roof, a misguided trend of the ’90s. My father unexpectedly felt the urge to do yard work and I sensed his eyes wandering toward me. I hastily covered up and descended from the roof. For years, I blamed myself, questioning my choice to lie there. Now, I recognize that he was attempting to peep on me, and he knew exactly what he was doing.
I also remember a night when my older sister confided in me about a troubling incident involving her friend and our father. Although I never learned the details, I understood that something inappropriate had occurred, and my sister’s friend was involved. Despite her history of dishonesty, a part of me couldn’t dismiss the gravity of her claims. I grappled with the reality of my father being capable of such actions, ones I had only seen discussed in news reports.
The two most significant elements of my checklist always surface last. They are too monumental to keep at the forefront of my thoughts. The first involves a late-night encounter when I was around 15. I woke to find my father hovering over me, claiming to be adjusting my covers. It struck me as odd, given that he rarely entered my room. It took time for me to confront the truth: he was attempting to touch me while I was unconscious.
The last point on my checklist is perhaps the most damning — my father’s internet history. Back in the late ’90s, when the internet was still finding its place, the family computer was located in a shared space. Unbeknownst to him, I discovered his browsing history filled with pages of child pornography. This should have been the definitive evidence I needed to justify severing ties with him, yet it is always the last thing I think of. I have to methodically work through my entire checklist, item by item, each time I feel that guilt creeping in.
Understanding Trauma and Guilt
In discussions about trauma, I’ve learned that I’m not alone in needing a checklist. A friend of mine, who distanced herself from her narcissistic mother, often receives desperate emails pleading for reconnection. Reading these can blur the lines of her memories of abuse, making her feel guilty for not being more forgiving. However, she has her own checklist that validates her decision.
Another friend, a survivor of assault, reminds herself that what happened to her was indeed rape and that she did not provoke her attacker. She must continually affirm that the blame does not rest on her shoulders. Self-blame is a common response to trauma, and checklists serve as a way to combat this damaging narrative.
While logic tells us that ending a toxic relationship is the right choice, trauma clouds our judgment, creating doubt and leading us to question our decisions. Thus, we create our checklists.
Having just revisited mine, I recognize that although the guilt of distancing myself from my father may linger, this mental exercise reassures me that my choices are valid. For more insights and resources on navigating complex family dynamics, you may find this article on Home Insemination Kit helpful. Additionally, for authoritative information on the insemination process, check out Make A Mom’s guide on artificial insemination kits. For those considering family planning options, Cleveland Clinic’s podcast on IVF and fertility preservation is an excellent resource.
Conclusion
In summary, my checklist serves as a vital tool for processing trauma and reaffirming my decisions regarding family relationships.