A half empty love tank.

When I was a little girl, my father left me.

I have fuzzy memories of him, bits and pieces I can barely recall. 

I am unsure of all the things that made him leave me, but I do know an alcohol addiction played a huge part. 

As a young girl, I felt like I was walking around with this giant piece missing from me. 

I didn’t even know my own dad. 

I didn’t know where he lived, and I didn’t know his phone number.

I didn’t know what he looked like or what his voice sounded like. 

Whenever we would travel, the first thing I did was pull the phone book out of the drawer in the hotel room and look up his name.  Maybe, just maybe, he lived here.  Maybe I would call him, and he would answer, and he would come running to me and take me in his arms and call me baby girl.  My mind would run wild with these dreams and visions of our reuniting. 

I searched and wished and longed for him.  I just knew so many of my problems and hurts would go away if he was just a part of my life. 

So from a very young age, I was broken. 

I tried to fill a half empty love tank with all sorts of things - things that weren’t necessarily unhealthy from the outside, but things that shaped me from a young age.

Striving for perfection was a big one.  I was the good kid.  I made good grades.  I read all the books.  I let other kids pick on me.  I was the teacher’s favorite.  I sat on the front row. 

Trying to be perfect was one way I dealt with a broken heart.  This is my go-to unhealthy way to deal with things even now as an adult.  If I couldn’t earn my own father’s love and affection, then by golly, I was going to win the affection of everyone around me. 

S T R I V I N G for love and attention to fill a broken heart.

When I feel like things are out of control in my life, well, that’s when I tend to gravitate towards that perfection drive.  My heart and my mind are running wild with all the hurt, chaos, brokenness, but you would never know it from the outside. 

After years of therapy and counseling, I can identify when things are moving towards the side of perfection and when I need to check myself.  But it creeps in every single day and tries to tell me that I am unworthy of love - that I must EARN it.

When I was 18 years old, I received a phone call from my father’s wife.  My dad was sick and dying and he wanted to meet me and my sister. 

My dream finally came true.

Expectations for that trip were beyond insane.  I thought something magical and beautiful would happen. 

But as you might guess, it didn’t.  My dad didn’t apologize.  He didn’t embrace me.  He didn’t say “Baby girl, I screwed up, but guess what?  I always loved you and I always, always will.” 

That trip was one of the most difficult and defining trips of my life.  And also one that I can’t recall much of (thanks, brain) — you see, my brain knew how traumatic this trip was for me and basically WIPED OUT every single picture or faint memory I have.  I couldn’t even tell you what my dad looked like. 

Two weeks later, he died.

And I still walk around with this MASSIVE hole in my heart.  It is a tender spot, one I don’t like to go to often because it hurts. 

The only way I can describe it is like this: it’s like I’ve been given this load to carry - the weight isn’t near as heavy as it used to feel, but it’s still something I carry every single day.  It’s woven into my life - my being - my story.  As much as I wish I could go back and change the story for myself, I can’t. 

There are days I feel like God gives me a glimpse into the reasons why I was given this load.  When I hold my darling Annie Lou, tears streaming down her face, because she misses her own dad, and I hold her sweet face and look her in the eyes and say with the most sincere and genuine heart: “I know.”  Because more than anyone else in this world, I really do understand and can empathize with her hurt.

Where am I now?

Well, I am on a journey right now with God.  I’m facing a lot of those hurts and pains that happened to me as a little girl.  I cry a LOT.  I am mourning something that I am sure what/if/how I should mourn, but I am mourning nonetheless.  And day by day, I’m learning to let my Heavenly Father come in and fill those empty places and hold the little girl that resides in my heart. 

To those of you that are walking around with a half-empty love tank, I see you.  You matter.  Your hurts matter.  It’s not silly or dumb to feel sad…just feel it and get on with it.  Get help.  Find a community of believers that can speak truth to your hurting heart and point you HOME to a truth that will leave you full of hope and joy. 

And then get on your knees and thank your Lord, your Heavenly Father, for never leaving you and always loving you.  No matter what. 




You're a good, good Father...thank you, Lord!