I’m Afraid of Becoming A Father
What emotional abuse did to me
I’m eighteen. Soon, I’ll be nineteen. Too young for most to start thinking about fatherhood, but it worries me, and the fear of becoming a father lingers in the back of my mind. And so does the pain and self-doubt.
Earlier this summer, I hadn’t left home in a while. I worked my tail off to finish every reading and assignment of my university summer school courses, so I could make a family trip to Montreal that was possibly my last. It was the most excited I’d been for a while.
But the excitement was cut short on the second day, and all the hope I had quickly become despair. The trip itself was lovely and memorable, and the places were beautiful, but his presence, his attitude, and the things he said and did brought back all the childhood memories.
The memories and moments of emotional abuse, screaming, narcissism, and psychological trauma. I was put through a lot during my childhood, and he put me through much of it.
I was ignored and isolated, and today, I’m afraid.
Not of snakes. Not of heights. Not of jumping from planes, or running in front of trains, but fatherhood. I’m afraid of being a father to my very own children, and not knowing what to do.