It’s Father’s Day 2019 on my part of the world. With that, I have greeted my husband and a few other responsible and loving dads. However, I have no intentions of celebrating the day with my father.

My Empath Father

Fate has been kind. I had one of the kindest, hard working, loyal, and committed fathers ever. He is a good husband and a good provider. With everything he got, sickness and all, he worked to bring food to the family. He worked to send us to school and allow us some comforts.

But more than that, he had been the most committed husband I have ever seen. He was most committed to their marriage and keeping the family together–I can give you that.

Idol Worship

If my father has any fault, that is his extreme devotion to my mother. His commitment was so extreme, in fact, that everything she did or say was right. He defended her to anybody and everybody. And that included us, their children.

To my father, it seems that my narcissistic mother could do nothing wrong. She was the apple of his eyes. And though he may admit her wrongs in private, he would expand like an Alpha male in order to protect her.

A Puppet

My father is worse than a slave to my mother. He does everything she bids him, including becoming her mouthpiece. She would command him to text people. And I am very well aware if my father is sending me text messages using my mother’s words.

Why? Because my father is not capable of mouthing or even writing those vile, spiteful words. Actually, he is very polite. He is a simple man with simple needs. A good meal and a good sleep are good enough for him.

But my mother wants more. She wants the facade of a perfect family plus that drama behind closed doors. She doesn’t want peace, instead, she craves conflict and misery. And she has my father eating out of the palms of her hands in the sick act that she wants to play.

He is completely trapped in a marriage with a narcissist. He is NOT loving it (I’m sure), but he needs it like the air he breathes.

An Offering to the Monster

When I was a child, I would often cry to my father for some reprieve whenever my mother punished me. Never. Never did he save me nor comfort me afterwards.

As a mother now, I understand that parents should have a united front when parenting. Otherwise, children will just manipulate parents into doing their bidding. And they end up as spoiled brats.

But there was something different in our family dynamics. There was something off that I couldn’t pinpoint and I just accepted it as normal. I was like the offering to appease the raging monster in our home.

Taking it All In

Whenever my mother had a fit, I had the most hit. They could be verbal or physical, but I got the brunt of it. I was hit with a belt or a stick, slapped, or had my hair pulled. I kneeled for God knows how long, with arms raised to the level of my shoulders, on salt or dried legumes.

I also thought that I WAS the problem of the family. Even if it was a marital fight, I felt that it was my fault. It was too much to bear. I felt that the sorrows of the world were upon my shoulders. When I became a teenager, I almost took my life, if not for our helper who caught me in my bedroom slicing my wrist.

Siding with My Father

Despite everything, my sympathy is with my father. That is because, I have seen with my two eyes how he has suffered under my mother. I have heard the belittling and the verbal abuses that seem unending. It could last for days, until my mother’s wrath has subsided.

Even after working the entire day, she would taunt him and fight him until the wee hours of the morning. Heck, she would even let him sleep in the garden.

It is not surprising though that my fondness is for my father, no matter how he left me in the lion’s den. Even though they would fight and make me take sides that would end me being their mutual enemy, I still sided with him.

Losing Faith

But something happened last year that made me snap. All my sympathies and respect towards him were practically washed away with my tears. My mother was noticing that she was losing control over me and she was raging.

When my father and I would talk, he seemed to see the whole picture. But when my mother is around, he would strut his stuff off and make me the bad guy. Suddenly, I realized that all my life, my father protected me from everything and everyone that could potentially harm me. Except my mother. He willingly sacrificed me to the monster in my mom just so her wrath will subside.

My Father is Not My Hero

My world crumbled and my heart shattered. I realized that my father was not my hero. He never was. He only fulfilled his role as the loyal and committed husband to his wife. I say that because he only did what SHE ALLOWED HIM to do. Nothing over than that. He doesn’t think anymore. Rather, he was reduced to being a puppet.

From the outside, we were a perfect family. But when you dig deeper, you will see what a dysfunctional family we area. Our foundation is based on lies.

So for the first time in four decades, I am not spending Father’s Day with my father. I am spending the day writing this while my husband has taken out the kids for their activities.

That’s what you get from an extreme empath of a father and an extremely malignant narcissist for a mother — they are perfect for each other.

Psychological Help

All this time, I never thought that I needed medical intervention for my mental health. But a couple of weeks ago, I sought professional help. And I did not regret it, as I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. All the symptoms of depression are spot on with me.

But after the visit, in fact, I am softening my heart towards my father again. It’s just that I don’t trust him anymore.

If you are interested, here are the things that the psychiatrist told me about my narcissistic mother. Plus, she gave me antidepressants that are working well for my sleep and peace of mind. Will write about that another time.

For now, Happy Father’s Day to all loving and responsible dads who would protect their children at any cost.