Daddy’s Little Girl… I Think

One of the biggest things I struggled with in my 20s was abandonment. I was talking to a friend recently about my relationship with my father and how things have shifted over the past few years.

Growing up, my dad and I were never especially close. He was in the Army most of my life, always working or traveling. When I was about 11, he went to Panama on business and, essentially, never moved back home. My parents divorced right before I turned 14. After that, he’d check in now and then or send money for school, but he wasn’t really there. And even though he had always been distant, I still felt this deep need to impress him. I worked hard in school, hoping for some kind of approval. But once he left, that drive started to fade. I did well in high school, but once I got to college, everything changed. I struggled in ways I hadn’t before—and not having my dad around definitely didn’t help.

When people think about “daddy issues,” they usually imagine two extremes: either someone who’s overly promiscuous and afraid of commitment, or someone who jumps from relationship to relationship trying to fill that void. I won’t say exactly where I fell on that spectrum, but I will say this: I was terrified of commitment for a long time. I self-sabotaged more than once with men who genuinely cared for me. It was like I was preparing myself for them to leave—because that’s what I knew.

At one point in my late 20s, I had completely resigned to the idea of being alone. It felt easier. No one could get close enough to hurt me, and I convinced myself that I was content.

Then I met someone who saw right through me. She made it her mission to figure me out, and in doing so, helped me recognize the patterns and fears I’d built around relationships. I’d had close friends in college who supported me through hard times, but this was different. She saw the deeper layers and called them out with compassion. Her friendship helped me get more comfortable with emotional closeness.

About three years ago, out of nowhere, my father came back into my life. He started emailing me almost daily, calling every week. It was surreal. After so much time apart, I had to learn how to let him back in. And as strange as it sounds, his presence started easing the weight I’d carried for so long. My abandonment issues didn’t just disappear, but they loosened their grip.

There were still moments where I’d fall into old feelings—but overall, having him back made a huge difference. Then, in February of this year, something shifted even deeper when I started going to church. I felt a conviction stirring in me. I knew I had to forgive my father—not just for his absence, but for the space he left in me that I didn’t know how to fill.

Since then, I’ve felt lighter. And I’m so grateful he’s in my life again. The more we talk, the more I see myself in him—his sarcasm, his outgoing nature. He tells me stories about how I was his little baby, and it melts me. It’s healing to know he loved me all along, even if he didn’t always show it in ways I needed.

At the end of the day, that’s what matters—not the past, not the uncertainty of the future, but this moment. Right now, my dad is present. He’s a part of my life in a way I never expected. And forgiving him—along with anyone else who’s hurt me—was the best gift I could give myself.

If you’re looking for change, sometimes all it takes is a prayer. God has a plan. And I know mine is unfolding in a beautiful way.

Who do I want to be?

A couple of nights ago, I was talking with the Comedian about my last blog post. We ended up deep in conversation about the human condition and our parents—how much of who we are is shaped by them, and how much we get to decide for ourselves.

Growing up, I used to compare my parents to my friends’ parents and wish things had been different. My dad had left, and my mom, while present, wasn’t emotionally available. I spent most of my teens and early twenties just trying to figure life out. I didn’t have much guidance—just this deep desire to leave home and go to college, which I did. I was the cliché lost college girl, trying to piece life together one experience at a time (or letting my friends do it for me).

It wasn’t easy finding my identity. I don’t think it is for anyone, really, but it felt especially hard without a strong example to look up to. Still, I’ve come to realize—everyone has a story. Some people grew up with abusive parents. Others had dads who drank too much or moms who never gave affection. We either repeat those patterns or we break them. That’s where our power lies.

Funny enough, I started this blog a few days ago, and on the way back from Miami this past weekend, the Comedian and I were listening to Joel Osteen—his sermon was about this exact idea. Serendipity at its finest.

At some point, you have to stop blaming your parents or your past and ask: Who do I want to be? You get to choose. Life is full of choices—what time we wake up, what we wear, how we treat people, and yes, even how we respond when life doesn’t go our way. I read a quote once that stuck with me:

“How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.” – Wayne Dyer

Joel said something similar—that we are the ones who decide whether to break generational habits and whether or not we pass them on to our children. It’s not easy, but once you consistently choose positivity and stay mindful of your reactions, something incredible happens: life starts to feel lighter. People treat you differently. The energy around you shifts.

You don’t have to carry your mother’s anxiety or your father’s anger. You get to rewrite the script. That’s the beauty of free will. That’s the power of the mind. It’s yours—so choose wisely.

Remember When...

Don’t you remember when bills didn’t need paying and you could run barefoot through the backyard without a care in the world? When no one you loved was going through a divorce or grieving an unimaginable loss? When no one had ever harmed you—and even a butterfly landing on your shoulder felt like magic?

Remember when you’d fall asleep on the couch watching My Little Pony, only to wake up in your dad’s arms as he carried you to bed? Or when he gave you a high five for finally hitting the ball off the tee? Those were the days when life was just playtime—when Barbie and Ken were off getting married, riding their pink Corvette through your living room, and the biggest conflict was telling your sister it was your turn on the Nintendo.

But grown-up reality? It’s darker. Heavier. It can leave you feeling empty or overwhelmed, wondering Is this really it? Life becomes a series of heartbreaks, unpaid bills, funerals, cruel words, and people who disappoint. It’s easy to lose that childlike light we once carried so freely.

But here’s the truth: You don’t have to just “remember when.”

You can still be that person—the one full of wonder, joy, and hope. Yes, life leaves its bruises. The world breaks us open in ways we never asked for. But we are not powerless. Just like we once got up with scabbed knees and kept running, we can still heal and keep going.

Pray. Breathe. Laugh. Keep moving forward.

Live your life in such a way that you don’t have to cling to memories of “when.”
Because when can be right now.