Death by a Thousand Cuts: When Protecting Image Means Erasing a Daughter

You want to talk about abandonment?

Let’s.

Let’s talk about the fact that this time, you didn’t tell me I was dead to you. You didn’t scream, curse, or slam the door. You didn’t have to.

This time, your silence screamed for you.

And somehow, this time?

...It hurt more.

You blocked me.

Again...and this time not just me… every single family member, every mutual friend- anyone who might connect us online.

Anyone who might see a blog post.

A quote.

A truth.

A breadcrumb that leads back to you.

You deleted them all. Quietly. Strategically. Like someone covering their tracks. Like someone with something to hide.

And I still don’t even know what blog you’re upset about. I’ve read through them. I haven’t said you abandoned me as a baby- like you were.

I’ve acknowledged the truth: maybe it wasn’t then...

But it was still abandonment.

Abandonment:

"The act of leaving someone or something, or of ending or stopping something."

That’s Google’s definition.

And by that standard - you were in and out. Hot and cold. Up and down. You came and went, over and over...

I never knew which version of you I’d get.

The warm one...the withdrawn and surface level one...the one who missed me..or the one who pushed me away...?

Even now, almost 30, I find myself reliving the same heartbreak… just in adult form dressed up in Grown-up clothes.

And just when I thought maybe this time would be different... maybe the pattern had finally ended...you did it again.

You’d been consistently in my life for the past four years. From afar, yes. But still… there.

Until you weren’t.

I didn’t even realize it was happening... not fully...Not until I saw the words:

“Take care, Kristen.”

Then nothing.

I messaged, “You’re doing it again.”

But it showed undeliverable.

I typed: "Dad..."

I wanted to reach out before the door slammed shut.

But it was already closed.

And I’m left... again...wondering how someone who claims to love their daughter could disappear so easily.

Not just from her life, but from every digital thread connecting them.

You say I lied when I said you abandoned me. But if that’s true... why go to such great lengths to erase me?

Why hide from people who might know me?

Why run from the questions you don’t want to answer?

You moved to Texas five years ago and built a new identity. A new life. A new image. You became the doting grandfather... even though they’re not biologically yours.

And maybe that’s beautiful.

Maybe you’re finally getting it right.

Honestly? I hope you are.

I hope they get the version of you I always longed for growing up...

But I can’t help but feel like I’m the shadow you’re afraid of.

The inconvenient truth to your carefully curated image.

The daughter you'd rather delete than just talk things through and deal with.

So here’s what I have to say to you...

Since you never gave me the chance to say it directly...

And because I know you’re reading my blogs...

Maybe... just maybe... you’ll read this one.

If “abandonment” is the word that triggered you… if it made you uncomfortable…

Maybe the discomfort isn’t with me.

Maybe it’s with the part of yourself you’ve spent decades trying to outrun.

You see yourself as better because you physically showed up.

Yes...I saw you on the weekends after you and mom's divorce.

Then every other weekend.

Then a few times a year.

But I haven’t seen you in five years...not since 2020 before him when I was living with a roomate.

You haven’t met my husband. Not as my fiancé. Not as my boyfriend.

Not once.

And you know what?

Physical abandonment is not the only kind of abandonment.

Emotional abandonment counts, too.

And for someone who claims he never left me -your actions scream otherwise.

So do your own words I sent you screenshots of that you didn't even bother to read...

So what’s worse?

One brutal goodbye?

Or a thousand goodbyes over the years- soft, quiet, sharp, cold… cutting deeper each time?

It’s death by a thousand cuts.

Coming and going.

Promising and pulling away.

“I miss you.” “Farewell.” “I’ll do better.”

Repeat.

I spent most of my life chasing the version of you I only got glimpses of. The soft version. The safe version. But it never lasted. The tenderness always gave way to explosive reactions, distance, withdrawal, and silence.

I used to think if I was just good enough, you’d stay.

If I said the right thing, didn’t say the wrong thing, kept the peace... stayed easy...stayed surface...I could earn your love that didn’t vanish.

And I thought I had finally done it...

But it was never about me.

It took me years... and therapy, grief, prayer, and deep soul-work ...to understand this:

My earthly father’s love is conditional.

>>>

My Heavenly Father’s love is not.

I’ve lived through it as a child.

A teenager.

An adult.

And this time?

It hurt physically.

You didn’t leave once. You left a thousand times...Over and over again.

And this time… was a reopening.

When I saw your final message, my chest tightened. My heart raced. My eyes filled with tears...

It wasn’t just grief.

It was my inner child....the panic. The ache. The confusion. The longing. Wanting to go back...

My OCD took over.

I cleaned. I bathed the dog. I did dishes.

I pushed through every flare, every ache, every bolt of pain in my body... just to keep from feeling what I was actually feeling.

Let me be clear: bathing Nova is something I never do anymore.

Not because I don’t love her.

Because I can’t.

With fibromyalgia, bending over a tub...it’s all excruciating.

But I did it anyway.

Because my OCD hijacked me.

Because emotional pain demands to be redirected.

Maybe on some level, I wanted to feel it ...because physical pain felt safer than emotional pain.

That’s how trauma manifests in my body.

That’s how abandonment shows up.

And now? It’s 6:40 PM, and not one single thought has left my mind that didn’t circle back to you.

What haunts me most isn’t even the block.

It’s the fact that I wasn’t worth a conversation.

"Take care, Kristen"

That’s what stuck with me...

And yet... I know you.

This won’t last.

You always come back.

Until the next time.

And the next.

The same old cycle.

But I’m done living on the edge of your emotional cliff.

Because:

I am not a secret to be hidden.

I am not a mistake to be erased.

I am not a chapter you get to edit out when it gets inconvenient.

I am your daughter.

And whether you carry that title with pride or not... I will carry the truth of our history with honesty. The good. The bad. The black and white.

All of it.

You can erase our connection online.

But you can’t erase the imprint of absence on a child’s soul.

You can block me on social media.

But you can’t block out the confusion, the grief, the longing that shaped the woman I am today or the father sized hole that I suddenly feel in my chest again...

I’m not writing this to hurt you.

I’m writing this because I refuse to carry it anymore.

And more importantly... I don’t have to.

---

The Difference...

My earthly father blocked me.

God breaks through me to get to me.

My earthly father forgot and wants to hid from the truth.

God doesn't. God meets me in it. In the middle of it all.

My earthly father loved me when it was easy...when I was easy...

God loves when it’s hard... especially then.

My earthly father withdrew when I needed him most.

God draws closer.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” ...Psalm 34:18

That verse carried me through nights I cried on the bathroom floor, begging God to just make the pain stop.

Not just from my father... but from the ache of not feeling chosen. Not feeling seen.

That deep, raw wound of wondering, “What’s so wrong with me that he keeps leaving?”

And God answered.

Not with explanations, but with presence.

Not with apologies, but with comfort.

He whispered: “I’m not going anywhere.”

---

The Father Who Stays...

God has never raised His voice to shame me.

He has never ghosted me.

He has never scared me

He has never made me earn His affection.

He doesn’t flinch when I’m honest.

He doesn’t leave when I mess up.

He has never abandoned me.

Instead, He:

Stays.

Holds.

Molds.

Gently redirects.

Listens.

Speaks truth.

Extends mercy.

Offers grace.

Loves unconditionally.

Romans 8:15 states:

"For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!”

And that changes everything.

When my earthly dad left again today...I broke...just for a little while...

But I didn’t stay broken.

Because in the absence of one father, I discovered the unwavering presence of THE Father.

And when I hold that truth close, the sting softens...

The trauma rewrites itself...

Because while my story may include loss... it also includes redemption...

---

To Anyone with a Father Wound…

You don’t have to carry it alone.

You don’t have to keep chasing closure from someone who never had the capacity to give it.

Some people simply don’t know how to love unconditionally ...

not because you’re unlovable,

but because they never received that kind of love themselves growing up.

Some people can only operate from what was modeled for them.

They repeat what they never healed from.

And calling out your wound would mean confronting their own...

and that’s a kind of honesty not everyone is ready for... no matter the age.

But you don’t have to wait for their healing to begin your own.

You don’t have to wonder if your pain is valid.

It is.

But even more than that… you are.

You are not too much.

Not too sensitive.

Not too broken.

You are not "not enough "

You should not have to perform or walk on eggshells to receive love or be scared to lose it...

You are seen.

You are chosen.

You are loved- by the One who knit you together in your mother’s womb.

The One who doesn’t flinch at your tears.

The One who doesn’t ghost you in grief.

The One who re-fathers what human hands failed to hold.

“Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.” Psalm 27:10

That’s the promise.

That’s the difference.

One left.

The other stays.

Always.

Remember whose you are.

- Kristen, Unfiltered Xo 💋