Healing From Complex Trauma & PTSD/CPTSD

A journey to healing from complex trauma.

My real father – is my only hope.


I’ve been watching a program, about people finding their long lost relatives. A middle aged woman, was reunited with her birth father, having never seen him. By his own admission – he was not a good person earlier in his life, but he had turned his life around, was married with 5 adult children. They were both so happy to find each other.

It was such a wonderful story and made me think about my real father.

When I was 25 – I wrote to my aunt who lives near my real father. They lived in a different country – across the other side of the world. (My mother moved with me when I was four. I emigrated back here 12 years ago). I asked my aunt if she knew who my real father was. She wrote back and said she did, but he was married for 35 years and didn’t want to be in contact with me. That was yet another rejection I have endured in my life.

My mother would never speak about him – other than to tell me some no doubt bullshit story about him rejecting her when she got pregnant. She failed to tell me he was a married man – if my aunt is to be believed.

My mother is such a liar – that I don’t believe her story about my father. And I don’t know that I can believe my aunt either. He may not even know I exist.

I will never know whether my birth father is a decent man or not, unless I contact him.

And I am so desperate for someone in my life to connect with, who may love me, that I am willing to chance the outcome of trying to meet him.

If he was married when I was born, he may not be married to that person now. He may be wondering who I am and where I am. I don’t think he would know I now live a few hours away from him, as opposed to the other side of the world.

I have to contact my aunt again to find out his name and possible address.

I’m really nervous to do it, but I know I need to.

I realise I could be setting myself up for more rejection. Or he may even be dead.

But, I need to try.

Because he is my only hope left, of having someone who cares about me.

~ Lilly Hope Lucario

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Author: Healing From Complex Trauma & PTSD/CPTSD

I am a survivor of complex and multiple trauma and abuse, who at the age of 40, began my healing journey. I am using my journey to recovery and healing, to help others, to help survivors feel less alone, validated, encouraged and to enable others to understand themselves more. Complex trauma, particularly from severe, prolonged childhood abuse, is profoundly life changing. Complex trauma produces complex adults. The journey to recovery is a painful, often lonely, emotional daily challenge and it is my aim to encourage others in their daily battle. ~ Lilly Hope Lucario

6 thoughts on “My real father – is my only hope.

  1. It’s a good idea to pursue this and find out his side of the story because you’ve been told different things about what went on from people who are known liars.

    For me I’d want to know regardless of whether it’s good or bad otherwise I’d always wonder and might regret it later if I didn’t find out his side of the story.

    Pursuing this might turn out to be painful but not knowing can bring its own kind of pain too.

  2. Just be very careful.

  3. I wish you the best in your pursuit…..of the truth.

    • So agree with Jules especially with “pursuing might turn out to be painful but not knowing can bring it’s own kind of pain too.” I hope the best for you Lilly!.. ❤

  4. Lilly I care. Serendipitously I found your blog. Can we connect?

  5. Lilly, I’ve just found your site, thank God! I was lied to about my biological parents until I was in my 20’s, and even then was not told the whole truth – just enough to try and convince me not to find them. Or to look in places 3,000 miles from where they really were. Through some interesting coincidences (which I was believe was God working through people!), I found both of them. While my bio mum was quite ill and far away, we did connect and stayed in contact until she died a few years later. Meeting my bio father was such a blessing. We were so much alike! And saw each other a couple times a month until he passed 10 years later. We stayed very close, and I am always grateful for the time I had with him.

    It was funny – things you do that you don’t realize come from someone. When we met the first time, we both wore ball caps. We both hated being late. We ate the same damn breakfast cereal. We both ordered the same dessert. The list went on and on – we even had the same sense of humor, and loved to joke around. It gave me an identity.

    I don’t know if it will be the same for you, but you won’t know until you find him.
    I wish you all the best!

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