How My Dad Taught Me To Be A Father

Psychologists say that your childhood is what molds how you will live your adult life. The more I look back, the more I realize that this statement couldn’t be more true.

When I was growing  up I had loving parents-who not only loved us, but loved each other, two little sisters, and all my family surrounding me. I always dreamed of having the same life for my future children. Two happy, loving, and supporting parents, siblings, a huge family support system, but my story didn’t end up that way. I got pregnant with my abuser at 22. Ended up being a single mom, a domestic violence survivor, and the sole parent for a child. And by sole parent I don’t mean just sole/physical custody of him, I mean the ONLY parent that my child has. His father chose to be an abusive addict and abandon him instead of owning up to the mess he created and turmoil he caused, but if you read my blog you already know all about that.

I never realized it until today, but God was paving the way for me to be a great father through my dad. My dad taught me how to ride a bicycle, ride a dirt bike, to play golf, throw a football, and shoot a gun. He taught me to always defend myself, defend my family, and always have loyalty to them. He showed me that hard work and determination pays off, math is the only subject you can be sure of, and to measure twice and cut once when building something. He showed me how a man always should put his family first, provide for them, and always protect them. He showed me through his patience that the first person to yell in an argument automatically loses. He showed me that talk is cheap and actions speak louder than words. He taught me that education is everything (well I may have understood that one a little too late). He taught me to always be punctual, to be respectful and the best at your job. He taught me the difference between a phillips head and a slot head screw driver, how to punch with my thump on the outside of my fist, and if I ever get into a fight, aim for the opponents nose- it’ll blur their vision. He taught me how to jump a BMX bike and that sometimes there are “extra” pieces when building shelves, toys, or play structures.

I never realized this back then, but my dad was teaching me how to be the father I need to be for my son.  While teaching my son to ride a bike I am using the same tips my dad used on me. I am instilling the same values my parents did in me with my son-Family over everything, Loyalty is everything, Love with all your heart, and Respect is earned not given. My dad has stepped up and has been the best grandpa any kid could ask for.

So, Thank you dad.

Thank you for being the best dad to my sisters and I. And being the best husband to mom.

Thank you for not only teaching me how to be the best father I can be, but the father my child deserves.

Happy Father’s Day!

 

A letter to my followers

To all my fellow survivors,

I get so many messages, comments, and shares on here, A Survivor’s Mission page, and my personal Facebook page that it’s hard to thank all of you individually but I wanted to take a minute to write you guys to tell you how much I appreciate each and every one of you.

If you read my blog, we are automatically connected. We have all, in some way have been close to someone who was hurt by domestic violence, or have been victims ourselves. We understand the struggles of everyday life living with an abuser. We all know how hard it is to move forward and connect with people, how hard it is to trust again. We have all had the flashbacks, anxiety attacks, and have been crippled with fear.

If you read my blog and are a family member or a friend of an abuse survivor-Thank you. There aren’t enough of you out there. So many people just write us off as being stupid for staying. They say that we are weak because we couldn’t stand up for ourselves. It’s so easy to judge looking in, until it touches you. I know because I was one of you. Before I was ever abused I didn’t understand how someone could literally be at the point of dying at the hands of someone else and not just get up and leave. How hard can it be to pack a bag? Ask for help? Or just start a brand new life? I judged, but then I became a victim.

So many readers comment or share my video calling me a hero. I am not a hero by any means of the word. I am just a girl who understands what it’s like to feel completely alone, yet be surrounded by so many who love you. To know what it’s like to want to say so much and scream for help yet when you go to talk no words come out. You are so afraid to disappoint your family for the person you have become so you stay silent. You are so afraid to leave because if he/she finds you he will actually go through with what he promises-to kill you.

I can not explain to you the relief I felt when my first birthday came after I was free from being abused. I distinctly remember sitting around with my family and being able to breathe, genuine blissful peace. There was no fear of what will happen when we go home, no babysitting his drinking, no lies to tell to cover up where the bruises came from. I didn’t have to worry about anyone asking me why I looked to tired, or why he was being so rude. That first birthday was only 6 months after I had gotten out of the horrible relationship I was in.

When I put out the video of my story in October I would have never dreamed it would reach as many people as it did. facebook.com/…382713971/10207405038069140 Thats when I started Alyssa’s Story, and now A Survivor’s Mission. I swear by counseling and family support. Please please please let your family in. I didn’t until it was almost too late. If you ever wanted to share your story, I am always here to listen. I felt so much better after I started sharing mine. Everyone hears the lies that your abuser spreads. How he didn’t do it, We are the crazy ones, We are controlling and mean. Once I started writing it was a chance for me to get my side of the story out, finally allow people to hear the truth of what happened. I was terrified of what his family would think if it ever reached them, which it has, but they can deny it all they want. I can understand why they would, who wants to believe their child is capable of being such a monster. R can deny it ever happening but police reports, medical records, and witness statements don’t lie. I know that the road to freedom is long and scary-but its so worth it.

Thank you all so much!

~Alyssa