I felt it important to share my disappointment with my own Trump loving father and it went horribly. Worse than I could’ve imagined.

I’m still living in the aftermath, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, I do think it altered our relationship forever. I can never unlearn who he is or how he reacted, but I can still love him. He can never unlearn how I feel about him as a father, and it turned him into the victim of my feelings. Now we live in limbo, and I don’t know how long we will stay here.

A friend with years of therapy under her belt told me not to let his response make me feel small. So I think about that often—how as a grown woman confronting her father, I’m still the one made to feel small for the crime of being disappointed. For disagreeing. For not reflecting back exactly what he wanted to see.

He chose to make it so much worse instead of just admitting he never thought about how his daughter might feel.