To the Man Who Fathered My Children but Not Their Lives

Honestly, I’m so over even having to address you or this situation again. We both know where we stand and why. But somehow, here I am — once more — expressing truths that will never be acknowledged, apologized for, or met with accountability.

It is quite obvious that your subpar parenting efforts are insufficient for what our sons require or deserve. Your lack of presence in their lives has been deeply damaging. It doesn’t need repeating that your absence, your minimal efforts, and your refusal to show up are shaping how they will see the world, their perception of what a woman is, and what manhood looks like. You have robbed me of the opportunity to consistently embody softness, ease, and femininity by forcing me into an imbalanced role — living in survival mode, operating full-time in masculine energy as both provider and caregiver. Two roles meant to be shared. Two roles that should never fall on one person alone. As you drift through life untouched by the daily responsibility of your four sons, I carry the weight of it all — physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. And I’m bringing this to your attention one last time because I’m finally closing this chapter for good.

In my pursuit of healing, freedom, and the abundant life God has for me, I am releasing every piece of baggage weighing me down. You, sir, are extremely heavy baggage. The kind the airline charges that extra $150 overweight bag fee for. And, these days, I simply can't afford to pay the cost for you anymore.

The version of myself that I am stepping into has no space for what is out of alignment. You are no longer a weight I will carry. You are no longer a wound I will nurse. And while I won’t ever block you from communicating with your sons — you are always welcome to fully step up and into their lives, show up for them properly, and begin to build a relationship with them - the difference is, now when you don't do your part, your lack of presence will no longer rob me of peace or consume me emotionally.

Your absence has always been your choice. And your decision not to participate in the lives of these incredible boys is by far your greatest loss — not mine. I release the burden of expecting you to show up and do at least the bare minimum for our sons. I release the fantasy of the type of father and man I thought you could be. I release every emotional thread that still linked us through parenthood. The love I once felt for you has long since faded. Now I’m cutting the final cord. It’s taken years of untangling, but I’ve finally remembered who I am — and what my sons and I deserve. We will no longer make room for mediocrity to masquerade as potential. The standards have always been there. Now the boundaries are being enforced, too.

Take this how you want to. Twist it however it suits your narrative. Use this as your justification to continue to be a deadbeat and a stranger. You’ve always been free to stay absent, and this doesn’t change that. But hear me clearly when I say I AM DONE.

Done caring.

Done questioning.

Done waiting.

Done making room.

Done explaining.

Done allowing you to take up energetic space.

Done hoping or expecting things will ever be different than they are, or that you'll ever be anything greater than you are.

I'll always pray for you and your wellbeing — not because you deserve it, but because of who I am. I still hope the best version of yourself emerges so our sons might one day meet the man I met in California, back in 2020. But that’s for them. That hope is no longer mine to hold.

I am officially out of words for you and this situation. Be well.

-Niki