Daddy Issues

I was told that I must have Daddy issues recently as an insult by someone who did not know me, or that my Father died less than a year ago of cancer. The insult was directed toward my freedom with my nudity. The message stated that no lady showed their ass and tits on the internet, that I was a slut who must have Daddy issues because of it. Well, I do have Daddy issues. My comfortableness with nudity however has nothing to do with my Father.

My Mother, God rest her soul (cigarettes are bad, mmmkay?) told me when I was younger that she didn’t believe she was pretty when she was young. That one of her regrets when she got older and became ill was that she didn’t believe in herself or appreciate how beautiful she was. She told me that I was beautiful, that I should believe it and appreciate it. That so long as I remembered the person I was inside and didn’t compromise my morals she saw no reason for me not to show my body.

Therefore to honor both my Mother and myself- I do, the best way I know how. I could give a damn what others think of me and how I choose to navigate my life in such regards. If people want to be so shallow as to read this book only by its’ cover they can go on thinking I’m a slut for not being ashamed of my nudity. Quite honestly, I’ve found that showing my tits and ass can be a magnificent way to easily weed out the folks whose interests go no deeper than my outer curves.

My Daddy issues are different. They correspond to how I have navigated myself through my past relationships, and the behavior I have allowed from men that I have sustained relations with. My Father never showed much interest in my creative endeavors. He never told me he really believed I could accomplish my goals and dreams; for years he told me I’d never be anything better than a burger flipper. My Dad did not get into deeper conversations with me when avoidable; and would go into fits of loud anger if I attempted to prod him into talking about an unsavory subject. He wasn’t demonstrative with affection and never called me just to say hello or hope my day went well. I couldn’t get my Father to come to my graduation for my architecture and engineering degree, or to one of the three music festivals I put my time, heart and lifetime savings into; though I learned my love of music from him. He wouldn’t even come to my house twenty minutes away for a barbecue. *

Subconsciously because of this I have allowed men into my life who did not support me in the ways I needed. I let it slide when boyfriends avoided touchy subjects with angry outbursts. I believed that I wasn’t worthy of the love and affection I longed for. So I tried harder to make up for it, and put my own needs aside to go the extra distance for people who would not go out of their way for me.

 It has taken some time reflecting to come to these realizations, and I am still working on how to effectively act upon them. Thankfully though, I now know I deserve no less love than I give. That I am worthy of having my needs met, and that includes a relationship where the energy shared is equally reciprocal and of genuine substance. I hope that someday someone will want to walk beside and snuggle me, to help and be helped through tribulations. Someone who offers mutual respect, appreciation and support for making our individual and shared dreams come true. In the meanwhile, I will continue to believe in myself and strive toward manifesting my goals; as I also deserve that self-love.

*My Dad was super awesome none-the-less and I still love him more than I can properly explain. He could always be counted on to be there for me in an emergency, and loved me whole-heartedly in his own way. As he would have said “I love you, just not all of the things you do.”

© A. Bougie (10/13/2017)