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Men Tell Us What They Wish They Could Tell Their Fathers

"I have this constant internal struggle: I want your acceptance but I know I'll never get it."

The cliche of women carting around giant, father-shaped wounds—and the emotional issues that come with—is by now so ubiquitous the term "daddy issues" fronts everything from TV episodes and mass-produced slogan sweaters to personal internet brands. Everyone knows the trope, ironic or otherwise. But what of men? Anyone who has ever become remotely close to one knows his relationship or lack thereof with his father goes an extremely long way to explaining… kind of everything. How he feels and copes and loves, or how he doesn't. The worth he assigns to himself. Father-based tensions typically also have the added rawness of unexamined emotional territory, say experts. We asked men of all ages to pen a note to theirs.

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Richard, 19
You leaving me with a mentally unstable and abusive mother has affected my life in nearly every way. But I don't hold a grudge against you, or her. I realise now that most parents screw up and irreparably damage their kids. I'm just lucky I turned out as normal as I did.

Will, 29
I'm scared that the way you treated Mum is how I treat women now. I can see her crying with pain all over her face, and now I see it in my girlfriend too. Because of me. I can see you in me and I'm at a loss because I don't know how to act otherwise. This is your shameful legacy.

Tim, 24
When I tell you my ideas and you knock them down, and without fail you do this every time, I feel ashamed and broken. I think you love me on a blood-level, but I also see that you don't like who I am, or who I've become, or who I want to be. It makes you feel very far away from me, even when we're sitting in the same room. When I look at old photos of you loving me, I can't reconcile who we were together back then. It was a clean slate, but now it's cracked. I'm still that same person though; I wish you knew that.

Robert, 35
I think about what I'd say to you almost every day. I have a constant internal struggle: I want your acceptance but I know I'll never get it. You're a narcissist. I've written you letters, I've tried to shut you out of my mind, and I've said things straight to your face. To no avail. You're a cruel man and as a father you're a total let-down—both accusations you've levelled at me too.

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The hardest thing is that my emotional responses as a parent are learned from you. I'm trying every day to change this so my children don't have same fucking Dad issues I have. All I want is for you take some responsibility for your behaviour. That's not a reality though, so actually I just wish you would die. Gary, 70
Hi Dad. Neither you nor Mum ever spoke about life in Vienna, before you came to Australia, but you did mention you never found out what happened to your sister, Sidonie. Unlike the rest of your family, she decided to stay in Vienna in the faint hope she would one day see her fiancé again.

Well, I've been doing some work on our family history and I've since learned that while Sidonie was waiting, she was rounded up by the Nazis. They sent her to a ghetto, where the Jews of Vienna were held prior to deportation. Since the official records kept by the Nazis have been released, I've established that she was deported in August 1942 in a cattle truck to Minsk, a journey that took four days. On arrival, she and another 1,000 Viennese Jews that day were murdered in a nearby forest known as Maly Trostinec. A total of 10,000 Viennese Jews were murdered there. Next year Susan [my wife] and I will participate in a commemorative service held at Maly Trostinec. In the meantime I've managed through an organisation in Vienna to install a commemorative plaque outside the house where you and your family lived. It was a most moving day and I managed to say Kaddish [Jewish prayer] for Sidonie. I hope I've done the right thing and that you will be proud of me for doing it. I love you.

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Troy, 23
Dad, we've never been close—to be honest, we're quite emotionally disconnected—but I want you to know you're always on my mind. And I know it's a cliche, but I've always felt subpar to Luke, like I'm falling short in your eyes. You've even told me directly that he's better. But it's hard to beat a brother who's doing his masters in aeroscience. There's so much pressure on me to get somewhere, and I'm worried about what happens if I don't.

Michael, 42
I know when you look at me you mostly see the ways we're different. I know my world isn't your world, and that you don't understand it. But please don't mock it. Please don't write it off. Understand that the traits people love and respect most in me are the ones I learnt from you, that I refuse to reject. The honesty, the generosity, the work ethic, the good heart. Be proud that I am more your son than you could ever realise.

Know that I love you, even though you were never open with your love. Know that being a father myself is so, so hard, because you left me no map to follow. I shower my boys with the affection I wish I had been given, but some days I struggle with how to do all the rest. Accept that the hardest day of my life was when I returned from a year away, determined to hug you no matter how hard you resisted. And know that I know you might not be here much longer, that I will never share these words with you, and that I will regret it for the rest of my life.

Diego, 33
If I were to ask you one brutally honest question, it would be "Why did you have children?" All I've ever been to you is an unwanted expense in your pursuit of joyless contentedness, so I assume having kids didn't really go to plan. Or maybe you didn't even have a plan; maybe it's just what everyone else was doing? Maybe it's disappointing to you that I'm not into fixing cars and burning meat, but you didn't teach me or inspire me so you can't expect too much. Although I guess I can see how it could be disappointing—putting all that time and money into a child and then they grow up to have nothing in common with you.

James, 22
Dad, you were distant and shitty for the first half of my life. You abandoned your children, you forgot that Mum blamed me for her cancer, and you ignored me when she physically and verbally lashed out. Do you remember losing your temper? You'd physically hit me or egg me on to hit you, which I was brave (or stupid enough) to do a few times. But despite all this you've started to really come around as a father. You're not perfect, but you've been there for me the past year more than you've ever been before. I love and respect the father you've become, but part of me fucking hates you for taking so damn long.

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