
Tolstoy once said: “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” Perhaps my daddy issues are the cause of my discontentment…
While everyone else is busy getting gifts and planning dinners for Father’s Day, I’ll be sequestered in my room, pondering about my relationship with my old man. It’s the same every year, though truthfully, I think about this almost every day. You may wonder: how bad is my relationship with my father? Well, it’s not terrible, but it’s not that great either.
Papa, I know you’re going to be upset…

My father is the typical Asian father: the strong, silent type who rarely shows his emotions and doesn’t say things like “Well done” and “I’m proud of you”. We’ve been orbiting each other for so long, and I only ever see him wear a grumpy expression. How would you feel if you had to face that every day?
For the longest time, I thought it had something to do with me. Did I do something wrong? Was he unhappy with how I turned out?
We weren’t always like this. I remember an incident in primary school involving my maternal uncle. He had told me off for spending too much time in the bathroom. I was crying badly. My father rushed down from work, sternly told off my uncle, and took my sister and me away. Even though this occurred many years ago, I still vividly remember it. It felt like my father was on my side.
However, as the years passed, we drifted apart like two continents. Nothing I did pleased my dad, and I acted out. During secondary school, I dropped out of my co-curricular activity – he made me join the National Cadet Corps to prepare me for National Service – and chose art as my major. These things may not seem much, but during a tarot reading sesh with some colleagues last year, our oracle noted that this was the start of him becoming disappointed with me.
Daddy, daddy, if you could only see

My resentment towards my father swelled as I grew older. I kind of knew what triggered the displeasure – I reckon it’s because I didn’t turn out as he expected me to be – and why I was feeling this way. But only years later did I realise I could be experiencing daddy issues. (Unfortunately, it’s not the “sexy kind”.) There’s a misconception that this ailment only affects women, but that can’t be further from the truth.
According to Jean Chen, director of Relationship Matters, this phenomenon applies to men too – particularly if they have damaged relationships with their caregivers. “Such dysfunctional relationships may not happen if there is a presence of a secure primary attachment figure in one’s life,” she explains.
My father takes his role as our family’s breadwinner very seriously. He’s been working for so long that it felt like his supervisor job became his identity, not his parental role. At home, he busies himself with reading the newspaper and watching the television on a loud volume. Because of work and the lack of time to spend together as I aged, he became more distant, contributing to our disconnected relationship. Even though he made time to attend my polytechnic graduation and my National Service passing out parade, I wasn’t appeased. Deep down, I blamed him for not being an active part of my life.
We’re in an awful mess

The blame and resentment eventually manifested into anger, which I significantly repressed. The only person I can talk to about this is my sister. While she empathises, I’m not sure she fully understands the magnitude. I don’t expect her to, since this is the burden I’ve carried for so long.
All that repressed anger comes out in expected ways. Whenever my father does anything, I feel annoyed. I furrow my eyebrows and glare like Prue Halliwell in Charmed when she telekinetically moves things across the room. My jaw is clenched, and I constantly have to stop digging my fingers into my palms.
My rage comes out in unexpected ways too. When something doesn’t go my way and it gets to me, I implode like a volcano and lash out. When I get called out for it, I immediately think of my father. I equate my behaviour to how he’s always been, especially towards me, and I tell myself I refuse to be like him.
The reason why I remain angry is because there isn’t any positive change in my interaction pattern with my father, Jean tells me. “We continually become frustrated with our father’s consistent negative behaviour and attitude, and we continue to respond negatively, placing this relationship in a negative deadlock pattern.”
Papa don’t preach

Besides anger and resentment, my daddy issues rear their ugly head in other aspects of my life. Due to a lack of a father figure, I find it hard to connect and get close to other men. It takes a lot for me to let my walls down and be comfortable with them. I also struggle with being vulnerable, get scared when partners show affection and, as much as I hate to admit this, I’m a people-pleaser.
It’s not all doom and gloom, though. Through observing my dad, I’ve learnt how to be thrifty. Oddly enough, the silver lining to his avoidant attachment is that I can be independent and responsible. I choose what I want for myself, which empowers me. These are the same qualities my dad embodies as well.
They say the more you deny comparisons with your father, the more you become like him. However, you can work on your issues if you accept them graciously. That’s a bitter pill to swallow for me, being the stubborn person I am. But I know I need to hear it.
Don’t stop loving me, daddy

I’ve been trying to figure out why my father is the way he is, and I’ve concluded that he’s a product of his time. He lost his father (my grandfather) early on, and because of that, he didn’t have a paternal figure in his life. Since then, I assumed he learnt how to be a dad through what little he knew and the expectations of being one back then. That doesn’t make him a bad dad, though I wish for him to be more than what he is. I still do.
While the simplest solution is for my father and I to live our lives the way they’ve always been, this won’t change or help us in the long run. He’ll remain the way he is, and I’ll continue harbouring negative feelings towards him. Alsen Chanamuto, schools engagement manager of Dads for Life and Centre for Fathering, advises not to blame everything on the past.
I ask Jean what I should do, and she suggests speaking to a professional with my dad. That’ll never happen, so she says I can go by myself, as “therapy can help with emotional closure.” I’ve wanted therapy to work through my issues for so long; perhaps this is the sign that I must do it. Maybe eventually, I’ll learn to let go and forgive my father. And through that process, I’ll learn to forgive myself too.