Father’s Day Without the Father Figure: A Love Letter to the Cycle-Breaking Daughters
Take a Breath with Me
Hi love,
If your stomach knots every time a Father’s Day commercial plays, or you’ve already found yourself mentally rehearsing how you’ll not reply to texts that come through this weekend, I want you to know something: you are not alone.
Father’s Day is complicated for a lot of us—especially if the man who helped raise you was also the source of your earliest wounds. Maybe you’ve gone low or no contact with your dad. Maybe you’re still in contact, but everything feels shallow, distant, or fake. Like a costume you have to put on in order to get through time together. Or maybe he passed away without ever doing the healing you needed from him. And while the world rushes to celebrate strong, supportive fathers, you're left sitting with a gaping silence—and sometimes, a quiet rage.
So let me say it plainly: you are allowed to grieve the father you never had. And you are allowed to stop pretending he was someone he wasn’t.
You’re allowed to grieve the parent you didn’t have, even if others don’t understand.
When Father’s Day Feels Like a Lie
I used to feel a pit in my stomach leading up to this day. I’d walk through Target and see rows of "World's Best Dad" mugs, knowing mine didn’t earn that title. I’d get texts from well-meaning friends asking what I had planned for the weekend, and I’d freeze—not knowing how to say, "Actually, I’m doing my best to pretend this day doesn’t exist."
The pressure to perform is real, especially for those of us who were raised to be people-pleasers. The inner voice says, “Just send a text. Keep the peace. It’s not a big deal.” But if it feels like a big deal, that’s because it is. Your feelings are valid.
Sending a card or text to someone who ignored your boundaries, withheld love, dismissed your pain, or actively caused you harm? That’s not small. That’s self-abandonment—and we don’t do that here anymore.
Honoring the Rage That Protected You
If you feel angry this Father’s Day, good. Anger isn’t wrong—it’s information. It tells us where a boundary was crossed, where something still hurts, where something still needs to be heard.
Rage is not the enemy. Rage is the weight of the armor your younger self wore to survive. It's a sign that something mattered and had a deep impact.
Let yourself feel it. Scream in the car. Write an unsent letter. Burn it (safely). Punch a pillow. Push on a solid wall with every ounce of strength you have. Find where this pain is in your body and let it move through you.
And then?
Wrap your inner child in the love she didn’t get. That might look like soothing touch, a whispered affirmation, or giving yourself permission to feel all the feelings you have shoved down, even if no one taught you how. Show her that while her father may not have shown up the way she needed, you are showing up for her now.
Sometimes we find safety in unexpected places—and create it where it didn’t exist before.
Reparenting Through the Grief
One of the hardest things about being a cycle breaker is mourning the parent you needed while still trying to parent your own kids (or future kids) differently.
Here’s how I hold space for my inner child on days like this:
I remind myself she did nothing to deserve the emotional neglect or manipulation. She was innocent and deserved to be protected, especially when she wasn't old enough to know how to protect herself.
I speak to her gently: “You didn’t imagine it. You weren’t too sensitive. You deserved to be seen. I hear you, I accept you, and I love you.”
I let her rest. Sometimes that means canceling plans, lighting a candle, and letting the tears come. I let her tune out, and listen when she is ready to process.
I offer her a new version of fatherhood—a safe male figure I’ve found in a mentor, partner, or even a fictional character who models what it could have looked like.
I grieve the loss of the relationship my father and I could have shared.
You don’t need your dad to acknowledge your pain for it to be real.
Boundaries Are a Form of Love
If you’ve chosen not to send a Father’s Day message, that doesn’t make you heartless—it makes you healthy. Boundaries aren’t about punishment. They’re about protection.
You get to:
Not call
Not text
Not send a card
Not explain your silence
You don’t owe anyone an explanation for protecting your peace.
And if guilt still tries to creep in? Remind yourself: I am not responsible for other people’s feelings about my boundaries.
You are not bad for choosing truth over performance.
What Father’s Day Can Look Like Instead
If today feels tender, choose something that feels right for you:
Take yourself on a walk and spend some quality time with yourself.
Celebrate another strong, loving male figure in your life.
Journal about what kind of dad you needed.
Light a candle for the version of you that needed more. Set an intention to fully show up for her.
Create a new ritual: watch a comforting movie, cook your favorite meal, rest.
Celebrate the badass woman you are.
Being everything to everyone doesn't mean abandoning yourself.
Let’s Redefine “Father Figure”
For many of us, strength and safety came from elsewhere:
The uncle who never judged you
The teacher who encouraged you
The partner who holds space without trying to fix you
The friend who shows up every single time
Father energy is not limited to biology. And love? Love is not limited to the person who gave you your last name.
Tea Time 🍵
If this post is resonating with your whole nervous system, you’re not alone. I created this space to help moms like you regulate through big triggers, reconnect with your truth, and show up for yourself when old wounds resurface.
✨ Whenever you're ready, send me an email and let's talk about the hard moments like these, how you have protected yourself until now, and how to create the family connection you always deserved. ✨
Or, if you’re ready to go deeper, explore what 1:1 coaching with me could unlock for your healing. You don’t have to do this work alone.
A quiet moment of regulation—because your nervous system deserves peace, too.
Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)
Q: What if I feel guilty for not reaching out on Father’s Day? A: Guilt is a natural response when we stop people-pleasing. Especially as women, as we have been taught that our value is based on how we can serve others. Guilt doesn’t mean your boundary is wrong—it just means it’s unfamiliar. Sit with the guilt, allow yourself to experience the discomfort, and remind yourself: you are allowed to choose what aligns with your healing.
Q: What if my father wasn’t abusive, just emotionally distant? A: That’s still painful. Emotional neglect can leave just as deep a wound. You are allowed to grieve the connection you didn’t have—even if others had it worse. We do not compare pain. Your pain is equally as valid and worthy of being healed.
Q: Can I celebrate Father’s Day in a way that feels healing? A: Absolutely. Honor someone who did show up. Write yourself a Father’s Day letter. Light a candle for the version of you that needed more. This day can mean whatever you need it to.
Final Words
You don’t have to send a message to feel like a good daughter. You don’t have to perform for the sake of tradition. You don’t have to explain your boundary.
You are allowed to prioritize yourself. You are allowed to protect your peace. You are allowed to feel rage and relief and grief all at once.
And most importantly? You are allowed to choose your own version of love.
✨ When you are ready to start tending to the child within you who still needs safety, still needs softness, and still needs you. I'm here to help.✨
If this post resonates with your journey and you're craving personalized support, I invite you to explore 1:1 coaching with me. Together, we can break the cycles and take back the parenting legacy—for you and for those who come next.
You’ve got her now. And that changes everything.
Let's shine brighter together, Erin
