Wanna hear something kind of bonkers?

I’m thankful that my dad left.

You’re probably reading that and going, “I’m sorry. What? How could you ever be thankful for that?”

Don’t get me wrong.

I am heartbroken.

I grieve the loss of my father. Not the way one would grieve a death, because he is very much alive, the last I heard. It’s more a grief over what could have been. Or like a sort of death of the person that I thought he was.

See, the person my dad really is and the person he pretended to be are two very different people. No one sees the real narcissist. The narcissist is putting on his/her very best performance, and only the victims of his/her abuse will ever experience it in its fullness.
For the rest of the world, the narcissist is a people-person, benevolent, humble, and kind – someone who cares deeply for the needs and interests of others.

It’s a mask.

On the underbelly of the narcissist is an insidious dragon, and only his intended victims have the misfortune of the experience in living color.

He/she is a gaslighter and a manipulator. The abuse victim is seen as over-the-top, dramatic, too sensitive, and in a constant state of misunderstanding the narcissist. All jabs, jokes, hateful speech, and snide remarks are in the victim’s mind because the narcissist would never actually do the things they’re being accused of.

A narcissist spends a lot of time making their victim feel mentally off balance, falsely believing they are the abuser. This is meant to make the victim feel insane, but you are not insane. This is a means for control over the life of the victim.
Any attempt at verbalizing an emotion to or objection over the way the narcissist has behaved is met with resistance, denial, projection, blaming, and finally stonewalling as punishment. The victim is addicted to the abuser, and they falsely believe they deserved the verbal assault, misunderstood the intent, and have now caused an emotional injury to the abuser (for which they will feel obligated to apologize for), so they falsely believe they are to blame for the rift in the relationship.

This was my childhood. My first steps were not across freshly cut green grass. They were not across lush Berber carpet, or even Mahogany hardwood.

They were on eggshells.

I mourn the loss of relationship. But it was a relationship I imagined. The dad you saw at church, at work, at the store… that wasn’t the dad I went home with. We abuse victims are walking among you, in your line of sight, and you don’t even know it, because we have gotten so good at hiding the truth from the outside world, masking has become our everyday reality. The lie has become so true, we don’t even recognize it as fiction anymore.

And that’s why I’m thankful.

I wish with every beat of my heart that I could have an earthly dad who loved me. But that is not my story. Instead, I have a Heavenly Father who loves me. And I wouldn’t know that if my biological dad hadn’t left.

Losing him broke me.

The pain over this loss left me in a puddle on the floor. I became a desolate woman. My grief and anger threatened to unravel everything I had painstakingly woven… Turns out, the life I’d crafted was tiny, twisted knots in a necklace chain, too tight and tangled to undo. I could not fix this. No one could fix this.

There were moments I was so close to the brink, it really wouldn’t have taken much for me to give in to the darkness of hate, bitterness, anger, and malice. It boiled inside my guts. I did my best to stuff it down and pretend. I wanted to be kind. I wanted to be loving. I wanted to be all these good things. I didn’t want this ugly, writhing pain to live inside my soul. I wanted it gone. But I didn’t know how. So it got pushed to the back burner again and again… and again.

Time heals all wounds, right?

No; I think time deepens wounds. I think time gives wounds the room to fester, to go septic, to kill.

Grief does not sit idly by.

I remember very distinctly a moment where my husband looked at me and said – though I didn’t want to hear it at the time – “Your anger is hurting you. It’s hurting me. And it’s going to hurt our kids. I think it’s time you finally deal with some things.” I was so angry at him for saying it. It was the truth. I just did not want to acknowledge it.

But it wasn’t long after that, I gave in, and I started therapy. It felt like a defeat, to admit I needed help, but it wasn’t. It was one of the best things I ever did. My hubby was right, and I know it was God who gave him the strength and the words to speak truth into my heart that day.

Losing my dad broke me.

And it set me free.

So. I am thankful.

God allowed it to happen… though it was one of the darkest valleys I’ve ever had to walk, therapy was painful, learning new patterns of thinking and behaving were arduous, and believing that God loves me was unfathomable… in spite of all those things, I am grateful because they led to my healing and my freedom.

“Though he slay me, I will hope in him.” Job 13:15

I am not the same girl I once was. Sometimes I wonder if who I am now is who God always intended for me to be… and if so, could I have gotten to this place any other way. Perhaps. But that’s for God alone to know. His ways are higher than my ways.

I do know this: I’d walk it all again, if it meant I could end up here. Would I want to? By no means. But I think that’s at least part of what it means to lay down your own will and follow God’s.
It’s not what I wanted; I wouldn’t have chosen it for myself. But the result? I did want that. I just didn’t know how to reach it. If I knew then what I know now, looking at it on the other side… Yeah. I’d walk it again.

I can now sit in this place of thankfulness that God allowed it, because it was the key to my freedom. To being able to run with abandon toward whatever God has for me. Living with a belief that I am known and loved and wanted.

Hear me when I say this: I wrestle with it. I do not say any of this flippantly, as if to say, “I hate __, and I’m glad he’s no longer in my life.” The opposite is true, actually. I love my dad with all my heart. I pray for him. I think about him. I miss him, even if I miss a version of him that lives only in my mind, in a land of makebelieve.
I hopefully cling to the truth that God can change anyone. And I fully believe that if a person is repentant, Jesus will save anyone.

So I live in an in-between space of radical acceptance of what is, acknowledgment that it’s not what I want, and hope that God can move and do the impossible.
A place where I fully acknowledge the pain, the grief, and the heartache of watching someone I love burn his life to the ground, while accepting the fact that I am powerless to change that, while also wiping the dust from my feet and moving on, and while still loving that person with my whole heart.

How do I manage to live in these realities that would seem to contradict one another? And how do I do so without being ripped to shreds?

Jesus.

He holds all things together.

Every tear that falls, falls into His hands.

He holds me together.

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion— to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified. They shall build up the ancient ruins; they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations. Instead of your shame there shall be a double portion; instead of dishonor they shall rejoice in their lot; therefore in their land they shall possess a double portion; they shall have everlasting joy. I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall exult in my God, for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭61‬:‭1‬-‭4‬, ‭7‬, ‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬