I've spent most of my life telling myself that it didn't matter. That I didn't care that you weren't there for me. That the love and support of one parent was more than some people had and that I should be grateful to at least have that--and I am. I am so grateful for my mom's unconditional love and support. She has gotten me through the hardest times in my life, but where were you?

Where were you when you promised to come to my school to eat lunch with me? I sat at the table that was reserved for lunch with parents. As the minutes ticked by my proud smile began to fade. I felt like everyone's eyes were on me, after all, I had bragged to everyone about how my Dad was coming to lunch with me that day.

Where were you when I scored my first goal? I remember the joy that swept through my heart and then the disappointment that followed when I saw only Mom in the crowd cheering me on. You had walked away to talk on the phone.

Where were you when I was one of the Three Blind Mice in my third grade class play? I was so excited to perform. All of us were bragging to each other, excited about the audience as it contained all of our loved ones--minus one. You.

Where were you when I made the varsity lacrosse team freshman year? I celebrated with the entire family. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grandparents, Mom, Brother, but not you. You were off doing "important business" I'm sure.

Where were you for any of the endless months I went without seeing you? You promised that you weren't leaving us, you were just leaving Mom. I wanted to believe you, but over the past 9 years, you have proven over and over again that you left all three of us and rarely look back.

Where were you for every single one of my lacrosse games in my high school career? Lacrosse was a huge part of my life and my entire identity was wrapped up in that sport. But you never saw me play. Not one single time.

Where were you the day I found out that the weird headaches and dizziness and all the confusion was actually a traumatic brain injury? That I had been walking around with no peripheral vision, half my hearing, a nonfunctional vestibular system, severe impairments to my vision, and destroyed cognitive functions? I remember calling you and saying I wanted to die if I could never play the sports I loved again. You told me that I was being dramatic, and had the gall to ask if the doctor was sure something was wrong, or if I just wanted attention.

Where were you the first time I broke down crying on the floor of my dorm, realizing that I had a problem--that my "healthy" diet and exercise had turned into a life threatening eating disorder? I remember calling you. It was my way of reaching out for help. Saying, "Daddy, please help me." You put me on speakerphone so your girlfriend could listen, I'm not sure you even heard me.

Where were you any of the nights I decided to take my life? Why were you never one of the ones who stopped me? Why were you someone that I couldn't even write a goodbye letter to, because I truly believed you wouldn't care one way or the other?

Where was the shoulder to cry on when I hit my rock bottom, and decided to go to treatment. To face my eating disorder head on. When I told you, do you remember what you said? It felt like a slap in the face. You asked if mom was forcing me, because I couldn't be "that bad", you'd just seen me and I wasn't even "that skinny". I "looked healthy".

Where were you the FOUR AND A HALF MONTHS that I was in the partial hospitalization program? Mom came every day. You never even met my treatment team. You also never called to see how I was doing. You claimed that you thought that giving me space was better than "giving me attention."

Where were you when I began self-harming? When I couldn't take the pain inside anymore and I had to find a way to let it out? You were probably too busy to notice..

Where were you on my 21st birthday? Oh that's right, you forgot it this year.

For a long time, I thought that you not being there for me was my fault. That I wasn't worthy of a father's love. That it was because of something I did that you didn't show up for me.

I realize now that all the anger and rage inside of me comes from a place of hurt. It hurts my feelings that you don't show that you love me. I know that you do, in your own way, but you've proven time and time again that you can't show it.

I'm trying to learn not to blame you, to forgive you and move on, but how can I? Each day I am interacting with friends whose best friends are their dads, and with dads who pick their kids up early for daddy-daughter dates. I want that. I want to know what it feels like to be somebody's world.

I'm learning to accept you as you are, and not to ask for more, but it's a long, uphill climb to reach forgiveness. So for now I will say thank you. Thank you for teaching me exactly what I didn't want to be as a parent--exactly how I never want my children to feel. Thank you for teaching me exactly how I do not want a man to treat me or make me feel. And thank you for teaching me to not rely on someone else showing up and being there for me.

With that said, thank you for loving me as much as you are capable of loving another human. Thank you for making the greatest effort you are capable of making. Thank you for the one daddy daughter dance we did go to, and thank you for trying to get yourself together. Even if you aren't capable of change, I appreciate that you care enough to try.