When I was a toddler, I built an incredibly strong bond with my father. He would read me books, from cover to cover. He would tell me the night time stories he grew up listening to. And him and I would, nearly every weekend, have our father-daughter time in our red Santro, on the way to a library or bookstore. Five hundred miles or the Gayatri mantra would play on the CD player during our trips. Those were the best days of my childhood – with him in the driver’s seat, on our way to our next adventure.
I love my father with all my heart, but also resented him for a long, long time. I resented him because he left me. He left me to travel the world, work in some of the most incredible cities, and to build a career for himself. He did it for me, I know that. He did it for me, my little brother and my mum. I know he would have wanted to take us with him, or better yet, stay home with us if he could. But he had to go. And I resented him for not being a part of birthdays, annual days or special occasions. I resented him for not taking me to the bookstore or library anymore and for not being there to encourage me in person.
It took me a long time to process these emotions and face the resentment within me. I remember crying in my bed one night when he had been working in Beijing and I was back home. I remember just sobbing into my pillow because I wanted my father. And he wasn’t there. That memory was etched into my memory for a long time, but as I work through my feelings, it fades a little and seems to diminish in importance – which I have decided is a good thing.
But as a young adult, I’m faced with another issue. I think I am most attracted to men who make me feel like my father did. We build a quick bond, I revere and love them dearly and then, only as our friendship or relationship develops, I realise that they don’t have the time for me. Either they can’t be present to fulfill my needs, live elsewhere or are distant. This is how I perceive them. And I feel the same resentment towards them as I do my father. I didn’t recognise it before. But I do now.
And I want to break this cycle. I want to communicate with them, express my needs and be there for them as well. I just need to develop healthy ways to do it.
Memoirs of a Muse 