I also began to realize that underneath my sophisticated veneer, I felt unlovable. Very unlovable. Somewhere, hidden inside me, I had maintained a fantasy that I had a loving father who was staying away from me—who was rejecting me—because I wasn’t good enough. There was something wrong with me. Now I knew the truth. It wasn’t me that was unlovable. It wasn’t me that was screwed up, although I know I’ve got problems. It was he.
