A Healed Father Wound – An Unexpected Father’s Day Tribute

Part 1: The Wound Begins

Father’s Day often brings a mixture of emotions for many of us. For some, it’s a day of celebration and gratitude. For others, it’s a reminder of pain, loss, or unresolved issues. In this three-part series, I share my deeply personal journey of navigating the complex relationship I had with my father, the wounds it left, and the path to healing and forgiveness.

Maybe you’ll relate to this story, or parts of it. Maybe it will help you feel less alone. Perhaps it will support your own healing journey.

Introduction and Early Years

My dad was a giant in many ways – standing tall at 6’8″, he was athletic, handsome, smart, and witty. He enjoyed the simple pleasures of life: gardening, swimming in his Speedo, working out, dancing to his favorite music, fishing, drinking, and smoking. As a police officer, he commanded respect and was a well-known figure in our community. This elevated him even more in my eyes—at least when I was younger. In my eyes, he was a superstar.

However, the picture of our family life wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. During my elementary years, amidst the “Just Say No” campaign, my brother and I began to notice troubling signs at home. These early realizations marked the beginning of a tumultuous journey, one that would ultimately reshape our family and my perception of my father.

In this first part of the series, I will recount the early days of admiration, the shocking revelations, and the beginning of a long and painful family saga. Join me as I explore the roots of my own Father Wound and the initial steps that led us down a difficult path.

Family Turmoil and Separation

My initial Realization

Sometime in Elementary school during the Just Say No campaign & after seeing some shocking interactions (or the aftermath) between my parents, my brother and I cautiously asked our mom if Dad was an alcoholic. The following days, weeks, & months were pivotal in the story of our family.

My mom bravely took us to a pre-Alateen meeting (this is a meeting for young people who have been affected by someone else’s drinking) & my father exploded to a point where my mom feared for our safety.

Separation and Conflict:

Their first 3 separations happened & my maternal grandfather arrived in town to bring us from our home in St. Louis to my grandparent’s home in a small town outside of New Orleans. There were many chapters to this story.

Years later, when my mom filed for divorce, they had a high-conflict divorce process that pitted my brother and I in the middle of distorted adult drama. No one came through the divorce process unscathed. Any semblance of “family” was never to be after that.

I began to see & know the dark energy my dad could run & it was disturbing, disgusting, & embarrassing. His growing bitterness & resentment were a lot to handle, as we experienced even greater physical & emotional distance.

Combine that with alcohol abuse & the effects were frightening at times. Taking the path of least resistance seemed to be the safest, so disempowerment was repeatedly reinforced.

Not being seen, heard, or protected by my dad (ironic given his career), and his incapability of teaching me life lessons was painful. I felt hopeless, powerless, and “not enough”.

Part 2: The Journey Through Pain

Struggles with Boundaries and Relationships

I attended AI Anon & ACA meetings which helped but if I talked about my dad, even people I knew in the meetings looked shocked & were speechless. Many times over the years, I’d walk into a therapist’s office, sobbing, asking and hoping for permission to cut contact with Dad, even though I knew that wasn’t seen as “healthy”.

For anyone who doesn’t know, going “no contact” or “low contact” with a family member (someone who is supposed to love you and not harm you repeatedly) is painful. The doubt, guilt, concern about regret, & other’s reactions are beyond challenging.

In my 30s, in marriage therapy, I described my dad as “toxic” & was confused & disoriented when the therapist suggested I set boundaries with my dad to maintain the relationship. Pragmatically, the suggestion was to tell my dad a consistent time I would phone him to connect & only stay on the phone when he was sober. But I could not reconcile this advice because my dad was drinking by 6am, so by my 7:30 am morning commute, he was not sober. So, what was the point?

The Turning Point: CPTSD Recovery

Twenty years later & after devoting 2 years of time, money, & energy to CPTSD recovery, I see the point. Although, in fairness, back then I was so traumatized, I would have needed more context & information to understand and act on the coaching I received.

CPTSD recovery is about a return to wholeness—restoration, reparation, rejuvenation & so much more. A key piece of this is reinstating your personal power—NOT “power over” or disempowered “victim” but a restoration of agency.

Had I know then what I know now, it would have sounded like:

“Dad, I love & care about you & want us to stay connected. I’m going to call you at XXX time. If you are available, I’d love to talk & if I sense you’re not, I’ll end the call & reach out as discussed next time.

Had my dad been predictably NOT sober, an embodied boundary would have been,

“Love you, Dad. This isn’t working for me so let’s try again next time.”

and I would have ended the call swiftly, firmly, calmly, but with love.

I was too overwhelmed by my dad & understandably stuck in protective energy to embody the “detach with love” slogan of 12 steps. I did not know how to interact with my dad’s negative behaviors & choices without:

• Taking it personally
• Collapsing into hurt
• Holding it in to get along to allow myself to receive the breadcrumbs of his presence in my life over nothing.

My Father’s Death

Many survivors of childhood trauma share with me how they wish their parents would die so that they could finally have peace. I too often wondered how his death would be & how I would feel. Afterall, he had been leaving us in body, mind, hearth, & spirit, so I was used to the absence & the hurt & wondered if there would be relief.

My dad died in 2018 after a long rumble with cancer. I had infrequent & cautious contact with him. I did receive some emotional support as I was going through a divorce & knew he was concerned for me.

I lived out of state, so his “presence” felt less terrifying, and I was grateful for the distance & glad I wasn’t available to help with his caregiving, as he did not easily accept help from my brother.

Prior to his death, dad had a motor vehicle accident, likely under the influence, & then had a series of strokes that required rehabilitation. He fought through the first two, but I think he gave up after the third. Visiting him in a facility was the last time I saw him.

It was not the visit or the goodbye I wanted or needed. I was there, anxious, but wanting to connect. I could feel an impenetrable wall that felt too familiar. The wall was his shame & I was feeling the “I don’t know” freeze of “just be here & don’t make it worse”.

The previous week my parents (mom, dad, stepdad) gave me money to buy a car & standing in his room I was able to show him what I bought. His comment was telling of his wounds. Shortly thereafter, he asked me to leave & appeared uncomfortable not just physically, but emotionally.

I kissed him on the lips & left. Once again, I felt unable to reach him.

The Funeral & Reflections on Death

He died in the ER later that week after I had returned home. I felt numb & disconnected from the death & the aftermath. I was also coping with several other stressors & losses at the time. I decided to stay home & work to save my leave for the trip back to STL for his service the following week.

The service was surreal. People loved my dad & it was clearly evident. But not everyone loved him & I braced for the unknown with the sense of dread that even with death, there could be drama. There was, just not at his service.

When I made the drive home to St. Louis for Dad’s service, in the car he helped me buy, I listened to music. Several songs reminded me of him & the better times we had together. A song I’d never heard, from an artist I’d never listened to came on & I sobbed while driving—feeling like Dad or the Universe was playing the song just for me.

It was “A song for You” by Leon Russell:

I’ve been so many places in my life and time
I’ve sung a lot of songs, I’ve made some bad rhymes
I’ve acted out my life in stages
With ten thousand people watching
But we’re alone now, I’m just singing this song for you
I know your image of me is what I hope to be, baby

I treated you unkindly, but girl, can’t you see
There’s no one more important to me?
So darling, can’t you please see through me?
‘Cause we’re alone now, and I’m singing my song for you
You taught me precious secrets of the truth, withholding nothing
You came out in front, and I was hiding, yeah
But now I’m so much better, so if my words don’t come together
Listen to the melody, ’cause my love’s in there hiding
I love you in a place where there’s no space or time
I love you for my life, ’cause you’re a friend of mine
And when my life is over, remember when we were together
We were alone, and I was singing my song for you
I love you in a place where there’s no space or time
I’ve loved you for my life, yes, you’re a friend of mine
And when my life is over, remember when we were together
We were alone, and I was singing my song for you, yes
We were alone, and I was singing this song for you, baby
We were alone and I was singing my song
Singing my song
Singing my song
Singing my song
Singing my song

Source: Musixmatch
Songwriter: Leon Russell
A Song for You lyrics © Skyhill Publishing Co.

Part 3: Healing and Recovery

Priming My CPTSD Recovery

There wasn’t much space or time in my internal world to process Dad’s death & it’s meaning. Being a divorced mom, working full time, & dating took all my time.

I dated a man who did the same things my dad did, & I learned in a non-clinical & intimate way what narcissistic abuse was & is. Recovering from yet another relational trauma was all-encompassing. As I recovered from the romantic relationship, I found myself in a comparable situation with a boss at work.

Feeling powerless & helpless to protect myself and others, I fought the system to rectify a hostile work environment. I wanted to keep my job but not if it meant being subjected to covert power & control tactics. I wanted the administration to see the covert abuse of power & its effects & make it right.

That did not happen. Like my parent’s divorce & my own divorce, I was once again experiencing hurt & harm & was powerless to stop it.

Around this time, after a visit to St. Louis, my brother unexpectedly gave me Dad’s urn of ashes. I was surprised, shocked & hurt, but I felt a sarcastic sense of irony. I had more of Dad with me & providing for me after his death, than in his life. It was an anchor for future healing.

UnRaveling

Rock forward to 2024 & I can wholeheartedly say “I too love you where there is no space or time. I hope you feel it in a way you couldn’t feel it when you were alive”.

I had to unwind a lot internally to get to a place of forgiveness. I didn’t want to be THE ONE, but I am the one to cycle break generational trauma; it is likely the legacy of my life.

Tending my own hurt meant helping the parts of me that never wanted to let go or give up on my dad or anyone I loved—all while carrying tremendous grief for their (and my) absence, and the disconnection that resulted.

It’s humbling to repeat the mistakes of your parents when you swore you wouldn’t, but that is what happens when wounds & needs aren’t met. My anguish allowed me a much more personal understanding of my parents & lessened the separation & judgment.

Guided lineage journeys & a few psychedelic journeys added more depth to my recovery journey. I’ve learned that when there is tragedy in a lineage there will also be distortions in the “codes” that are passed to the following generations.

My dad’s hurt & protective parts didn’t come out of thin air. His ancestors left Ireland during the Famine & dispersed across the US. My ancestors brought with them—their grit, humor, strength, & spirit. I believe they also brought the hurt & tragedy of colonization & victimization, where family, place, & culture are lost.

Victims often try to flip out of victim mode to protect themselves with a “power over” move. Dad learned the “flip flop” of I will not be seen as weak, powerless, or vulnerable & if I do, I will power over.

What is CPTSD Recovery in Action?

In CPTSD recovery we call the flip/flop of power the “I will destroy” energy. I didn’t like it in my dad, but I too had his “fight” energy when I needed it. CPTSD recovery is a deeply personal process that is dynamic, crossing space & time taking you to your lineage & priming you to care for the collective in the present & future.

Restoring personal power, embodying your gifts & the gifts of your lineage allows for restoration. While I have judged & blamed my dad in private places (& some public) I no longer care to label or pathologize him. Instead, I wish to help his dignity be reinstated.

• Early on I could see his hurt, but I couldn’t fix it & it wasn’t my job.
• His hurt was passed to me.
• I am the healer & it stops with me.

Dad, this is the wisdom we didn’t have:
We are safe enough & whole enough. We can connect to our light & radiate it.
We can own our story & put down the struggle story. We can be vulnerable &
strong. We can have humor & not weaponize it. We can champion the underdog & challenge the status quo in deadly systems of power. We can speak truth in ways that call in what we want & don’t corrode us or others. We can remember what was forgotten & reconnect with the land, stories, medicine, & gifts of our ancestors. It is safe to come home, holding it all in the embodiment of personal power.
To my Gemini dad, I love you. I forgive you. I am sorry for you, for me, & us all. I wish for you to rest in peace & visit me with a song.

-Your Daughter, Renee

I hope my story helps you feel less alone and perhaps even offers some insight or comfort as you navigate your own journey. Healing from a Father Wound, or any deep emotional pain, is a complex and deeply personal process.

If you resonate with my story and are seeking support on your own healing journey, please don’t hesitate to reach out. As a therapist and coach, I am here to provide a safe space for you to explore your emotions, overcome obstacles, and find healing. Whether you’re struggling with a father wound, trauma, or any other challenge, know that you are not alone.

If you’d like to schedule a session and take the first step towards a brighter, more empowered future—I am always here for you. Let’s embark on this journey of healing together.