Dear Dad.

Have you ever cared about someone so much, yet resented them at the same time? That is my story about my relationship with my immigrant father. I try my best not to expel an ounce of negative emotions or energy into this world; let’s be honest there is way too much of that already, but Dad you are making it impossible. This individual who should be a girl’s first love, support, and protect her throughout life is the one who has hurt me the most. Dear Dad, you’ve hurt me in more ways than one.

My dad has always been a hard worker, something I admire, and he has always provided me with all the comforts that I may need, but at what cost?

Dear Dad, your words were supposed to build my confidence, yet the words you have thrown at me and my mother cut deeper than any knife could. Your words have left me with scars that may never fully heal. You used any chance you could to crush my spirit.

Dear Dad, you were supposed to be the one who caught me when I fell, but you turned into the first person to ever make me understand what it felt like to fall and land head first.

Dear Dad, you were supposed to be the one who placed bandages on my wounds, but you kept adding new wounds each time I think I healed.

Dear Dad, you were supposed to be my first love, but you were the first one to break my heart.

Dear Dad, you were supposed to save me but sacrificed me instead.

Yet, somehow and someway I still chose to forgive you.

Not because you deserve it, but because I refuse to let the bitterness of the past consume me any longer. I choose to break the cycle of pain and resentment. I choose to forge a path of healing instead.

But Dad, I want you to know that despite your best efforts to break me, I refuse to shatter. Instead, I am here using this pain as strength. Strength to keep going forward. Strength to have hope. And strength to help others who may need it.