I know I will regret this writing this post, the tears are already falling as my music blast to keep me calm. My mother will read this and she will get mad at me, “Why are you sharing your problems with the world?” she will yell. Am I really sharing my problems or just reaching out a hand to other girls and boys who are in a similar situation or can at least relate? Anyway, I am tired of being a caged bird getting her wings clipped. I want to learn to fly and teach myself to laugh, and this is the first lesson in both subject areas.

Dear Father,

Thank you for being supportive; not many parents can handle an over-the-top feminist who speaks her mind without a filter; hell not many fathers can handle a daughter who wants to be successful and make something of herself. Thank you for your support.

Thank you father for putting down the alcohol bottle and teaching me how to drive. Thank you for my first car, I still have him.

Thank you dad for helping me work through my dark rough times. You added sunshine to my pitch black night.

Thank you for putting up with my emo music, and rock and roll. Lots of parents would have burned the music and their children with them.

Thanks dad for giving your blessing to date my boyfriend. I love him. We are now engaged, and because of your guidance we were able to work out the long distance relationship.

Thanks for giving my brothers and I everything we needed and most of what we wanted. Also, thanks for making my workaholic mother stop working and take a break to enjoy life.

Thank you for spreading my wings and teaching me to fly. For showing me that anything is possible if I work hard for it and give it my all.

Thank you dad for wishing, hoping, and praying for my happiness.

Love you,

Lez

I want to thank my dad for all these things, at least I would if I had such a father. Don’t worry, I know you are not that father, but I want to thank you anyway.

Thank you for telling me to shut up and not speak; for showing me that my voice didn’t matter. I found people who share similar interest as me, and together we will change the world. Thank you picking alcohol over your family; it showed me the horrors of letting an addiction consume.

Thank you for allowing me to fall into the black. I am able to understand those in similar places, and because I had to learn ways to help myself I can now help them. It will make me a great psychologist one day, wouldn’t you say? Not that you care, anyway.

I want to thank my mother’s husband for not allowing me to experience love from someone else without making my life a living nightmare. I told you once I will never get married and you got angry. Your ideas are backwards and insane. I don’t believe love outside family is possible, and heck you make me question love in family as well, and for that: THANK YOU.

Thank you for not providing anything, and helping with nothing. This is actually really great for me because I learned the meaning of hard work not from you but from mom. I learned that women can and have to work because to depend on a man is the stupidest thing anyone can do. You didn’t give me my voice, my mom did, and one day when I am a mom, I will do the same thing with my children.

Thank you for caging me and clipping my wings while forcing me to sing and laugh because what is life if not a game of appearances.

You say you hope I am never happy, well news flash, as soon as I get away from you I will be happy. Watch me smile as I walk away from toxicity of your behavior, words, and liver. You may have clipped my wings, but through the years I have learned to fly without them; it’s called levitation and I do it with the help of my Father Most High.

So thanks for everything.

Dear Mom,

Because I know you will read this. Get mad; at this point I don’t care and I will continue to write regardless of what you or anyone else tells me. This is my way of making sense of the world, and my writings have helped people as well. You should see some of the comments I get. I know I am not alone, and I am tired of all the lies and stories that are a fantasy of my (our) nonexistent life.

Dear You, the reader,

Here I am; if my battle wounds could talk, oh the stories they would tell, but since they can’t I hope this open letter helps you in some way. See, you don’t need a father to be successful; mine was physically here but really I feel like it would have been better had he not. Maybe I am wrong, but I know I am not wrong when I say that your mom can be your dad as well; mine has been. The same can be said about people with deadbeat moms; your dad can be your mom. My advice: find people who understand what you are going through; find mentors because just your mom or dad can’t do it by themselves; and thank the deadbeat parent because by not helping they taught you valuable lessons about life and what you want out of it.

Dear You, the reader,

Here I am. I am alive and striving: I have a goal in life (several actually), if I can make it you can too.