You Only Get One Father... But He Only Gets One Me

The Father's Day Post I Never Planned to Write

A few years ago, I wrote a Father's Day post, "Daddy Issues" explaining why I was never what people would call a "daddy's girl". Today, I find myself revisiting that conversation, not because my love for my father has changed, but because life has a way of revealing lessons we thought we'd already learned. Before I go any further, let me be clear: this is not a post written out of bitterness, revenge, or disrespect. I love my father and honor him as my last living parent. Now THAT reality alone carries a weight that is difficult to describe. But the love doesn't erase hurt, and honor does not require silence.

One of the most common phrases I've heard throughout my life is, "You only get one mother and father" While that statement is true, I've often wondered why the reverse is rarely considered because last I checked-you only get one ME too.

Last holiday season, an incident occurred that left me wrestling with more than disappointment. It challenged my understanding of respect and reminded me that some people believe it should flow in one direction. As children, we are taught to respect our parents. As adults, we learn that healthy relationships require mutual respect. While the two are not enemies-they should still coexist.

Ephesians 6:4 Scripture tells fathers not to provoke their children to wrath. That verse isn't discussed nearly enough because we often focus on the responsibilities of children yet overlook the responsibilities of parents as if accountability was meant to be a one-way street.

Breaking generational cycles is not an act of rebellion. It is an act of love.

As a mother, my perspective has changed. I am unapologetically protective of my children. Call it Mama Bear if you want-DO NOT PHK WIT MY KIDS. I can endure disappointment. I can carry burdens that were never mine to hold. What I refuse to do is allow my children to inherit wounds that can be prevented.

Nobody stood guard over the emotional well-being of my generation and emotional intelligence wasn't a thing. We were just expected to absorb trauma's, and shet up; all for the sake of respect. But cycles can only continue when someone refuses to interrupt them and here I stand...as the disruptor.

Within my household, I teach my kids to give with a clean heart. A gift is a gift. It should not be used as leverage, nor should it be given with invisible strings attached as a way of control. Character matters. Integrity matters. How we treat people matters especially ones you consider to be family. Those lessons are non-negotiable.

I know I'm refined because overall despite being hurt, I refuse to allow such disappointment to grow into resentment. Instead, I have learned that fatherly love can come in many forms and God has placed incredible men throughout my life who have offered wisdom, protection, encouragement, and care without sharing my DNA. That's the power of abundance!

So this Father's Day, I find myself holding two truths at once-maintaining the love for my dad while grieving a relationship that'll never be. The balancing act of honoring someone while maintaining your own boundaries can be tough as you unlearn to stand in your own healing for the greater good. I too am deserving of some honor. My peace at this juncture of my life isn't up for debate. Those truths are not contradictions. They are the complicated, sometimes uncomfortable realities of adulthood and most definitely motherhood.

Some conversations are shared over coffee because they're easy. Others are shared over coffee because they're hard. This one is a little of both ☕💛📖