Father’s Day and a Complicated Kind of Love

Father’s Day can feel like a warm hug for some. But for many of us, it’s something altogether different, a storm of emotion, stirring up everything from sorrow to anger, guilt to yearning, love to loss.

If you’ve been affected by someone else’s substance misuse or any addiction, whether your grandad’s, father’s, your partner’s, or your child’s father, this day might feel anything but simple.

For me, Father’s Day used to bring a wave of pain so strong, I could barely catch my breath. My husband Chris was such a loving man and he loved his children deeply. He wanted more than anything to be a good dad. But his drinking stood in the way.  It built a wall between him and the life he longed to live. Between him and us.

He missed family time in the park. Quiet bedtimes. Saturday mornings full of giggles, train tracks and messy fun. He missed so much, even while he was still here. Because he was not present.

And on days like Father’s Day, I used to feel it all so acutely,  the heartbreak, the resentment, the grief for what could have been. Life just didn’t unfold the way we had hoped. We never were that family of 4 holding hands walking on the beach. How I longed for that. I used to dread the lead-up, the ads, the cards, the social media posts, the world celebrating what I had lost… or never fully had.

But here’s the thing: that’s not the whole story anymore.

Over time, with care and compassion and through practicing selfcare and self-compassion, I found my way to a different relationship with myself and the pain. I gave myself permission to grieve, to rage, to remember, to love. And in doing so, something shifted. Slowly, the day stopped being just a painful reminder of what was missing.

Now, on Father’s Day, we remember him with love. We will light a candle today. We will share a memory. We will honour the good that was there, even if it was tangled in so much that hurt.

And maybe that’s the most we can ask of ourselves on days like this. Not to force joy, not to pretend it’s easy, but to make space for whatever is true for you.

If today is hard, you’re not alone. It’s okay if it’s complicated. It’s okay if it hurts. And it’s okay to care for yourself through it all.

Here are my Sunday self-care tips for you, gentle practices that might support you today:

• Take time to breathe. Even five quiet minutes can soften the edges of overwhelming emotion.
• Move your body. A slow walk, a swim, a stretch, movement can shift the energy and bring you back to the present.
• Write down what you feel. Give your emotions a place to land. Let your journal hold what your heart is carrying.
• Reach out. Share how you feel with someone who can meet you with compassion. You don’t have to hold this alone.
• Remember with intention. Light a candle, look through a photo album, or tell a story about a moment that mattered.

And most of all, give yourself what you need.

Rest. Nourishment. Quiet. Connection. Let your needs be valid today. In the Blossome Selfcare Community, we hold space for all of it,  the ache and the love, the hope and the heartbreak. You are welcome here exactly as you are. However you choose to spend today, may you feel held, by memory, by meaning, by the love that remains, and most importantly, by your own care.

With love,
Kim x

Kim Moore

Kim Moore is the Founder of Blossome CIC. She lost her husband Chris to alcoholism in 2017. She faced a difficult journey while raising 2 children alone, with her family living on the opposite side of the world. Kim  founded the Blossome Community and The Pathway to Peace healing journey so no one would have to feel alone while enduring the trauma of a loved one’s battle with alcoholism or addiction. She is also on a mission to end the generational cycle of alcoholism and addiction in families.