“If you really loved someone, it would emanate from you, sincere and overflowing, generous and unconditional. But for me, my father’s love had always been conditional. Here again was just another condition: In order for me to love you, I need you to write out a list. Why should I have to teach my father how to love me? And, I’m ashamed to admit, I didn’t make the list because I was afraid. Afraid that even if I wrote out everything I needed, and he gave me all of it, spent all of his time, money, and energy trying to make things right, I would still be too afraid to love him back. I wouldn’t be able to forgive. And then it wouldn’t be him who was the real asshole. Not anymore. Then it would be me.”
―
Stephanie Foo,
What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma