The tears flowed softly and mercilessly as I lay in bed. My head and my heart were fixated on one thing- why didn’t my father love me?
Beloved, I’m going to be very transparent… today’s post will strike a nerve. I am taking what some may deem the cowardice route by writing my thoughts here before sharing them with my father directly. However, the truth is, I don’t know a better way to express how I am feeling; I just know that my heart hurts.
In the wee hours of July 14, 2025, I was in bed in Tokyo when I was overcome by a profound feeling of rejection, abandonment, and grief. For some reason, my heart picked that inopportune moment to travel back some 30-plus years in time to remember the day that my father abandoned me and my mother. Unfortunately, due to PTSD, I cannot literally recall that time in my life, but it was as though the strongest muscle in my body had a brief memory burst, and pain washed in like a flood. I cried inconsolable tears. With what little strength I had, I texted my mom and my sister in our group chat to ask the question that stung every fiber of my being. While it was 3am in Tokyo on a Monday morning, it was 2pm on a Sunday afternoon in Maryland. After questioning why I was awake with this on my mind, they finally opened up to having a conversation… a conversation that still doesn’t sit right with me.
My father didn’t want me.
They say that time heals all wounds, but the reality is, time goes on, hoping that we forget how scars were formed and how we felt when injuries were inflicted. While we may forget the HOW and maybe even the WHEN, our eyes can see the scars, our hands can feel them, and our hearts can’t erase them. Scars are permanent. They show that we have endured pain and that some level of healing has occurred. Unfortunately, no matter what we do, the damage has already been done.
Despite what the pictures portray, my father was absent from my life for well over 15 years (if I’m being honest, he has been absent for almost 39 years). During those 15 years, I experienced inexplicable abuse at the hands of another man who was supposed to love me. I slowly slipped into depression, obesity, and disillusionment as I struggled to understand and “accept” my father’s absence. I did not know then, but his abandonment tore me apart from the inside out, damaging every relationship that I had encountered because a broken person cannot adequately love anyone else. The cut that one man had inflicted upon my life was causing me to bleed on others for decades to come.
The blood loss was killing me.
On the 31st of July, I met with a psychiatrist. The time had finally come when I had to admit that I needed medicated help to address the scores of emotions going on inside of me. No longer was it OK for me to live my life like a Black, adult version of Inside Out 2; it was time for me to find and embrace peace. As I sat in the psychiatrist’s beautifully curated space, inadvertently I was forced to face a truth that I had never acknowledged. When my brother, my father’s son, reached out to me on December 10, 2009, via Facebook, he must have been searching for me. We had no “friends” in common, as I had never been in contact with my father’s side of the family, but he knew my name, and when he looked for me, he found me. While I do not know for how long he searched, I can safely deduce that he did search … and he found me. So what I realized on that stormy day in the psychiatrist’s office is a simple truth that haunts me- my dad never searched for me.
And, to be fair, why search for someone that you have already written out of your mind and life?
My father had made the decision long before September 3, 1986, that he did not want anything to do with me, but it wasn’t until I was on that couch, confronted with the truths of my life that I had hidden for so long, that I was able to accept that everything else had just been Razzle Dazzle.
The musical Chicago is one of my favorite movies! I watched that movie/musical so many times that I know every song by heart. Towards the middle-ish of the movie, Richard Gere’s character (who is an attorney), reveals how he always wins his cases. He offers Razzle Dazzle, or a brilliant, yet distracting performance, and no one thinks the wiser of what is happening. This is what my father did/does. He puts on an elaborate show that distracts his audience from his skillful sleight of hand. While we are looking at what the right hand is doing, his left is destroying the reality that we once knew. By the time we are aware of what has happened, it is too late as only devastation is left in his wake.
Come for the excitement; stay because you’re too broken to leave.
Last week I laid on my mother’s bed, talking to her about our pasts. Ever since that morning in Japan, I can’t help but think about the familial relationships that have scarred me deeply. I know that my questions may have been difficult for her to hear, as they awakened many sleeping beasts within her. I am grateful for the truth that she unabashedly revealed to me.
She’s not perfect, and neither am I. In fact, no one is perfect, and none of us is without blame. We all fall short and miss God’s mark, but He loves us just the same. God’s words implore us to forgive others for the offenses that they have made against us, 70 times seven times. That basically means that we should be in a perpetual state of forgiveness for all. However, while I can forgive, my scars prohibit me from forgetting. Even though these hurts were deeply suppressed, my heart did not forget. My heart sheds fresh blood every day from the wounds inflicted on me during my youth.
Sorry, not sorry, but I cannot give one access to continue hurting me… or to continue with their Razzle Dazzle.
So today I rise up. I stand in the strength of the warriors before me and in the strength of the Lord my God. I dust off the debris from the broken life around me as I straighten my attire and adjust my crown. I step forward on this healing journey, permanently closing doors that lead to traps and devastation, choosing to walk forward towards spaces that God has divinely crafted for me. God has already declared this as my season for healing, and I choose to take Him at His word.
Be blessed.
God Happened To ME Ministries, LLC 
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