I have been meaning to do this for months; ever since we left, I knew that I would eventually need to write a follow – up letter to the ones we scribbled on sheets of notebook paper after hurriedly packing our clothes into trash bags. There was more to remember, more to articulate, but time was a luxury that I most definitely could not afford.

Now, though, here we are. We finally (partially) escaped from the most suffocating force of our lives: you. Doesn’t that sound awful? I am not going to sugarcoat it, nor will I embellish. I understand if the whole situation may be confusing for you, especially that one nagging, pesky question: why? Well, I’ll tell you why.

I cannot recall a time when your presence did not immediately make me anxious. When you enter my field of vision, your emotions and thoughts become my own; I lose myself in my overwhelming urge to accommodate you, to make sure that you are content. If the situation were slightly different, you may present a valid argument that this is simply a character trait of mine, that it is not a reflection on you. But, what are the chances that your wife and two daughters – and, for quite a while, your only son – possess this fatal flaw? How likely is it that we all somehow managed to convince ourselves that our happiness would only follow yours – without any manipulation on your part? I know you say that you understand what mistakes you have made in the past, that you are aware of your wrongdoings and attempting to heal, but you must also know that we do not trust you. You encourage us to move forward, to simply focus on the positives, the good things, and give you some credit. Personally, I find it hard to believe that someone who has done the things you have done could ever truly recognize the magnitude of their actions. You may disagree, but let me explain: I still have to remind myself that it is not normal for dads to enforce a punishment of sprinting to the mailbox every time their kid makes a mistake during practice – practice, as in the time where mistakes are okay because they do not have any effect whatsoever on game – time performance because you are able to acknowledge and address them. Except, that’s not exactly how it worked for us, was it? AJ, Tori, and I came to loathe that breathtaking moment as we passed the neighbors’ house and couldn’t tell if your truck was in the driveway. Country music blaring from that paint – splattered radio became the anthem of our grueling summers. We did countless drills, often being screamed at or insulted by a man who was slightly swaying from the beers he had downed. Or, almost just as horrible, we practiced with each other while you stayed inside, although we knew that this was just a false sense of security because we only had to glance at the window and see your silhouette. And, at the end, in the true fashion of someone unstable and uncomprehending of the damage they were causing, you told us that you were doing it out of love. You only pushed us because you believed in us, you said. You taught us that pushing ourselves – pushing each other – until we were gulping down raspy sobs was justified because it was making us the best. I know that the overwhelming majority of your life has been tainted by your alcoholism. I know that your own childhood was riddled with dysfunctional familial relationships. These facts of your life have contributed to the formation of who you are today, and I do not blame you. Perhaps this may feel even worse, but I can only describe my attitude as indifferent.

Did you truly believe that your actions were not perpetuating the cycle of unhappiness and hurt? You are adamant that you thought you were helping us, and it is useless to argue with someone who so wholeheartedly once believed in their own philosophies.

Now, though, you have seemed to have committed yourself to my recovery process. Yet, you have never once asked me if I want you at my appointments, tapping your foot on the floor and incessantly checking your watch. I notice these habits because, as I mentioned before, I have trained myself to but your comfort above my own; when Dad is content, everything will be okay. It sickens me. I lose myself in an internal battle of loathing my inability to sever my attachment to your happiness and still keeping track of the nuances in your body language and facial expressions. When the doctor enters the room, my first thought is, “what will Dad think?” I find myself annoyed by tics I would normally only find interesting because I know that they will annoy you. I want to crawl out of my skin when this old habit suffocates nearly all of my own thoughts – my individuality. In your presence, I transform myself into nothing more than a continuation of your senses. This has lessened with the recent months of separation and my embarkment on the path towards full health, but I am still deeply affected by you. I apologize if I misled you by mentioning how you went from controlling my recovery to zero involvement; my intention was to merely point out how extreme your changes in behavior tend to be, and still are. This is a long – term pattern in your conduct, one that we all find alarming and cause for wariness. I did not mean for you to actually insert yourself into my “support team” by coming to doctor’s appointments and asking for your information to be kept on file as one of my legal guardians. I do not want that. It feels insincere to me because never once before did you show any signs of noticing my condition or wanting to support me. Most importantly, perhaps, what value do you bring to the process? What helpful information do you have to offer? I do not blame you for this, but you do not understand my eating disorder. We have talked about how our illnesses are both similar in that they are both addictions, but that’s where the similarity ends, in my opinion. So, I do not blame you for not understanding how my eating disorder affects me, nor do I hold you accountable for not knowing healthy coping tactics; I cannot impose the unfair expectation on anyone to comprehend such a confusing and deeply personal mental illness. Yes, you may have asked mom about my appointments every once in a while, but you never tried to even approach the subject with me – unless it was to criticize my performance in sports. It all comes back to athletics. Of course, I performed worse during those times of extreme weight loss and restriction. But, do you understand how utterly worthless I felt to have this fact spitted at me through gritted teeth during those tense walks to the car? Shoved down my throat on the long car – ride home? Reiterated as a heaping pile of food was placed in front of me, then repeated again – as if I had forgotten – between orders to eat faster? You ask me to remember the good times we have had, but answer me this: how am I supposed to remember happiness in your presence when I only feel instinctive dread at the mention of you? I am a child. This is not one of my innate flaws as a human being. This is the effect you in my life. You are probably surprised by all of this information. Honestly, I am too; it is one of my characteristics as an individual to stay busy and not wallow in painful experiences. Now, though, I am remembering. I am recalling when I was terrified to ask you if I could have a snack because I knew that if you said no, it would only confirm my insecurities in my body. I was confused as to why Tori and AJ were always encouraged to eat more (albeit, in a rather harsh and not at all healthy way), while I was told that I had already had enough to eat. I felt inferior every time AJ’s lean build and Tori’s spindly legs were compared to my stockiness. Once, after a soccer game that I had felt went well, I was made to practice at home until you deemed that I had earned the right to attend a birthday party later, as a way to make up for my apparently unacceptable playing. I was probably about seven. At six years old, I was forced to tell everyone who asked how I had played in my softball game that I had done horrible, just absolutely terrible. Softball disgusted me for the first four years of my career, before I had finally earned your approval and you turned your attention to Tori and AJ. Of the three of us, I endured the least of your temper. I was thankful for this, but I still ached for my siblings every time I had to practice with them and stand by as you compared their performance to mine. I always had a better social awareness than AJ and Tori, a keener sense of another persons’ emotions and expectations, so I was able to artfully adapt to your customs and make adjustments to my own behavior so as to accommodate for your own lack of control. The three of us would hope against Hope itself that you would choose someone else’s sport to attend – or, better yet, decide to plop down on the couch and occupy yourself with beers and outdated Westerns. AJ almost never failed to draw the short straw in this gamble.

And, of course, the lies. I do not think it is worth going into detail about all of the deception there has been because I know that your cognitive functions have been inhibited by your alcoholism – it would naïve to convince yourself otherwise. So, do you still trust yourself more than you trust us? If so, an explanation of why would be much appreciated. Because, let me assure you, that your memory is not as clear as ours. For example, do you recall when you and Mom got into an argument two years ago, the night before your birthday? We had come home from Fall Fest and your dirty dishes were heaped into the sink, your eyes glazed from TV and beer. Mom was tired and upset that you hadn’t simply cleaned what you had used, but you were adamant that of course you were going to do so, and she needed to just stop being so dramatic. Lots of choice words – and names – were exchanged. You suggested that you two should go outside to further discuss the matter (Tori had begun to cry). I stood frozen in the hall. Mom went out the backdoor. You calmly walked over, as if to follow her outside, and instead locked the door behind her. When you turned around and saw me standing there, horrified, you laughed. You went to go sit back down on the couch. I was disgusted. I went to unlock the door, even though you told me to stop. I didn’t care; I didn’t respect you. In that moment, I was unbreakable, immune to your inebriated rage. You came into our rooms later, unfazed that Mom had been gone for upwards of 20 minutes. You tried to console Tori. I was doing homework (even though it was a Friday). You said to me, incredulous and indignant, “Are you really on her side?” I told you to leave us out of it, that it was a problem between you and Mom. I said it was wrong to have locked the door, and I asked – or, rather, commanded – you to leave Tori and me alone. Mom eventually came back. I hoped that we would be leaving soon, but (obviously) we didn’t. Later (the next day), I remember that Mom and I were in the van. That night, you both had gone outside to argue some more, and I had only caught snippets of the conversation from pressing my ear to the wall. I’m sure that I probably got Tori ready for bed, and I definitely texted AJ. I had told Mom about me unlocking the door, and she had brought this up to you in the argument. You had the audacity to accuse me of lying. You immediately unlocked the door as soon as you locked it. I was disturbed and horrified and outraged. How dare you accuse me of lying. Why would your word, the word of a verbally abusive alcoholic, be more trustworthy than mine, a perfectly sober teenager with good morals and above – average intelligence? I said, “Mommy, that’s not true at all.” The scariest part, though, was when she told me that you so believed in your own recollection of the events that you were willing to go and confront me about my “lie” at that very moment. I often wish that you had, just so Mom would finally find the courage to leave you.

Currently, the lies are even more concerning and, frankly, unbearable. I am sure you do not agree with this, but Mom shares with me (and Tori, but mostly me) the correspondences that you two have. She does not tell me everything, nor do I ask to know everything. But, she does inform me about the instances in which you suggest that one of us has misremembered an encounter and therefore you appear to be in the wrong. This especially happens with Tori, my annoyingly sensitive yet spirited little sister. The girl who yells at me for trying to ‘control’ her, yet has also revealed that I am her best friend and who she looks up to the most. Tori does lie about homework, cleaning her room, being on her phone… but she does not lie about what you have said to her; her nightmares do not lie. We have always talked about her sensitivity, but you have begun to use this personality trait as an excuse for what she tells Mom and I about the awful comparisons you have made between her and AJ and myself. She is not deceptive enough – nor does she have a long enough attention span – to maintain such a long – lasting lie about your ‘mountain’ analogy or calling her ‘stupid.’ And, the whole hotel fiasco. You told Mom that you had already booked a room (reserving and booking mean the same thing, by the way), yet you admitted to Tori that you hadn’t even known you would need one and had only just booked the room at the end of my third game. Then, the place was disgusting and sketchy. In the morning, you told Tori that you did not have any other clothes because you hadn’t been planning on spending the night, so you two would have to go to Walmart after dropping me off. But, you told Mom that of course you had other clothes, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to wear them. Does that sound believable to you? It doesn’t to me. It is not logical. Honestly, much of your behavior is not logical to me. It does not make sense to me that you basically live alone and no longer work part – time, yet you consistently forget about appointments you insist upon attending and run perpetually late. Before, when you were still texting us daily, you had assured us that were not obligated to reply, but then rather defensively instructed me to send a message back because you were really making an effort, and I needed to help you out. Shortly thereafter, the texts stopped altogether. You are insistent upon talking to us daily, but we are the ones to always call you. This make come as a shock, but we do not look forward to this 30 – second long conversations. Harsh as it may sound, we would be perfectly unbothered by not having to participate in them at all. So, I think it would appropriate for you to call from now on because, as I have come to realize, we do not owe you our time simply because you are our father. At this point, I think that everyone should realize that your presence, for us, has minimal benefits. We are pleasant in your company, but emotionally drained as soon as you are gone. For me, I have gotten accustomed to not having you involved in my life. And, the real truth: I am not motivated to put in the effort for you to be fully involved in my life. It is not one of my priorities. You have yet to ever ask me about my opinions. You do not ask me about my feelings about you coming to appointments. You do not ask me if I am okay with you coming to softball. You wait until last – minute to tell me that we are spending time together. You still use Mom as a go – between, and then blame her for any miscommunication. Let me make this clear: this is a decision that I have arrived at all on my own. Contrary to what you may believe, my conversations with Mom regarding the separation and my feelings towards you in general are truthful and two – sided. I do not think you are very familiar with this kind of discussion because you are used to dominating conversations, so perhaps you do not recognize that the relationship between Mom and myself is much more functional and respectful than you realize. This will be hard for you to comprehend, but I feel like you do not properly feel the magnitude of the consequences of your wrongdoings, and I cannot force myself to tolerate that any longer. I am okay with seeing you at family gatherings, and I may consider accompanying Tori once every few weeks on a visit with you (if she chooses to continue to do so), but I do not wish to ‘mend’ our relationship. I know I have always been the child who seemed the most able to please you, so it may come as a shock that I am the first to be the most forthcoming with my feelings… but, then again, maybe it isn’t all that surprising; I had convinced myself that I understood you and that we were more alike than not. Now, that notion disturbs me. I cannot fathom wreaking such havoc in the lives on my ‘loved ones.’ I am grateful to you for your part in my existence, but I am not indebted to you. Of course, I wish you the best in your recovery process. You should continue to attend meetings and see a therapist. Find your source of inner happiness and sense of balance. Pursue activities and relations which align with your values, but be respectful of the values of others. I am mildly disappointed that our relationship has reached this point, but I have accepted it and, honestly, think that it was inevitable. I cannot grieve for something I never even possessed (as in, an honest and nurturing relationship with you). I am sorry for any hurt or pain, or perhaps even embarrassment, that you will feel while reading this email. But, I do not deserve to live in denial of my true feelings towards you and our relationship as a father and daughter. Some things just simply cannot be salvaged – at least, not in their original form. In my adult years, maybe a sort of acquaintanceship will be healthy for both of us, but not right now. I know that we will still be in contact, but probably not in the way that you were desperately hoping for. Maybe time, therapy, and introspection will heal these broken ways.

Your eldest daughter