I stopped buying Father’s Day cards the year I realised my dad didn’t deserve one.
I made the decision, as an adult woman and a mother, to cut him out of my life completely. And I’m not sorry – even though I live with the guilt daily.
It wasn’t one explosive argument. It was years of feeling like I was never enough. Being told, in actions more than words, that his needs always came first, and that love was something I had to earn, not something freely given.
But there was one final moment that affirmed I could not continue this relationship.
Let me paint the picture: It was school holidays. I had a one-week-old newborn, my toddler son, and my two stepdaughters at home. We were deep in the trenches.
I told him I’d be ready for a visit at 11am. As usual, he showed up at 9am and said he was just ‘in the area’.
I know he meant well. He wanted more time with us, but I had carved out that time carefully because I found our interactions exhausting. And I wasn’t ready.
The house was a mess. I was half-dressed, hadn’t showered, covered in baby vomit, and my boobs were leaking through my bra.
‘He was an every-second-weekend dad by choice. He often didn’t show up for the things he promised. He moved further and further away,’ Karissa (pictured with her dad) writes
‘He was an every-second-weekend dad by choice. He often didn’t show up for the things he promised. He moved further and further away,’ Karissa (pictured with her dad) writes
He wasn’t the dad I grew up idolising.
He was an every-second-weekend dad, by choice. He often didn’t show up for the things he promised. He moved further and further away. As a little girl, that starts to feel like your parent is choosing everything and everyone but you.
So our relationship was already fractured by the time I became a parent myself.
All this meant that moment – him walking in on me like that, two hours before we agreed – wasn’t comforting. It wasn’t a case of, ‘Oh, thank God you’re here.’ Instead, it sent me into an anxious spiral.
That’s when I realised this man had always done what served his needs in our relationship. It was never really about me.
That was the day I chose estrangement, and I finally felt free. But that freedom brought guilt, grief, and judgment.
My father screamed at me when I told him on the phone that evening that I wanted to cut contact. He swore, even called me names I’d overheard him calling my mother when I was little and witnessed their arguments.
His response just confirmed I’d made the right decision. And yet the guilt lingered.
Karissa (pictured) doesn’t regret cutting her dad out of her life five years ago
Karissa (pictured) doesn’t regret cutting her dad out of her life five years ago
‘I didn’t cut off my dad to be cruel. I did it because continuing the relationship was slowly killing the part of me that was trying to heal,’ writes Karissa (pictured with one of her children)
‘I didn’t cut off my dad to be cruel. I did it because continuing the relationship was slowly killing the part of me that was trying to heal,’ writes Karissa (pictured with one of her children)
Because, let’s be honest, society has no script for chosen estrangement.
When it comes to difficult family ties, we’re told to stick it out, to forgive, to smile for the Christmas photo.
Cutting off a parent still feels like a dirty secret, even when it’s the healthiest choice.
Father’s Day is the hardest.
It’s not just the cards and the ads. It’s the Instagram posts, the casual questions (‘What are you doing for your dad?’), the school assignments. Every year, I’m forced to think about a relationship that no longer exists and explain a choice most people don’t understand.
I didn’t cut off my dad to be cruel or to hurt him; I did it because continuing the relationship was slowly killing the part of me that was trying to heal.
Estrangement is grief in slow motion. Grief for what was. Grief for what never will be. But it’s also peace.
Five years have passed and I’m not angry anymore. I’ve built a family and a life that feel safe. I’ve worked through the trauma. I help other parents, especially step-parents, navigate their own complicated family dynamics.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: blood doesn’t automatically mean bond. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is walk away.
This story isn’t just about me. It’s for the women lying awake the night before Father’s Day, wondering if it’s okay to feel nothing. Or everything. Or both.
You’re not broken. You’re not heartless. You’re allowed to choose peace.
And no, you don’t have to buy the card.
By Daily Mail