The notion of a Daddy’s Girl is a real bonafide thing.
And how do I know that?
I once had a very positive and healthy relationship with my father, and I’m hugely grateful for it.
It was the kind of relationship where I felt like I had that one other golden person who understood and knew me intrinsically, and to whom I felt aligned and most alike in terms of disposition and personality.
I will never know if it was two-way, but from my perspective, it felt like I didn’t even need to speak, and that we were almost able to communicate telepathically. Every inflection of facial movement or body language seemed enough, but if we did communicate, the words landed in a space of acceptance and understanding unlike any of my other human interactions.
Things changed when I hit puberty, but until then, he was my safe space, my rock, my place to bring myself most fully and unapologetically.
But with the hindsight that only maturity and the passing of time can bring, that was both our strength and our downfall.
I now believe my father struggled enormously when I made the inevitable transition to womanhood.
