How I Used My Father as My Alter Ego to Overcome Loss & Loneliness

Shreya Chaturvedi
Jun 16, 2024
10 min read

Updated: Apr 21

I lost my father 19 years ago. I was 13 then.

The teenage years are generally messy. It’s the age when you begin to face the world while still remaining under your family’s protection. You question everything, accept no answers from others, yet know little yourself. It’s a time that tests the practicality of the values and morals you were taught in childhood. With bad experiences, you develop strong notions about love, life, and purpose. Your first heartbreak makes you question the sanctity of love. When you see your parents’ flaws, you tend to rebel. When the world judges, betrays, and bullies you, you lose confidence in kindness.

Losing a father at this age makes everything even more difficult—more than your teenage friends could understand. For instance, I couldn’t dance as freely because I didn’t feel that free. I went to a driving school at 17 or 18 but didn’t learn to drive until I was 28, when I could afford a car. Was your first car your dad’s car? Having a father impacts even things like dancing and driving. How do you possibly explain this to other 'regular' kids?

Losing a father at 13 is peculiar. You're old enough to remember him vividly but not old enough to handle the void he leaves behind. You're just a teenager, newly arrived in a big, judgmental, unsafe city. I often thought it might be easier for those who lost their fathers so young they don't even remember them—or for those who lose them later, having already built some independence. I was in between. I thought I had it worse than anyone else.

I wasn't used to seeking help from anyone else. I wasn’t even used to speaking to my mom about much—except maybe when I got my first period. I was a daddy’s girl through and through. And after he was gone, I didn’t know who to turn to. I’ve struggled with trust ever since.

For me, trust needs consistency and respect. I don’t need validation. If you casually scroll Instagram and say things like, “Aishwarya Rai is fat now,” and then expect me to take your opinions on body positivity seriously—sorry, but I can’t trust that. That’s how deep trust issues run for me.

My father was a rare kind of man. Gentle, kind, and honest. He never told me I was beautiful—he said everyone was. That was probably the secret to his peaceful, regret-free life. Anything less? I cancelled it.

This wasn’t just grief. It was a mindset, and it crept into everything. I was kind but quick to detach, independent but resentful. What I didn’t realize was that I, too, was being unfair sometimes. I mocked the “small wins” of others because I had faced bigger battles too early. I remember laughing when a friend told me he paid the electricity bill for the first time, at age 28. I’d been doing that for years. But for him, that was a big deal. And I had no right to diminish it. Life timelines aren’t universal benchmarks.

For a long time, I thought healing meant learning to live without him. But what if I could live with him in a new way? What if, instead of just remembering him, I could embody him—carry him forward, not just in my heart, but in the way I lived my life? That’s when I discovered the Alter Ego Framework, and it changed everything.

The Alter Ego Framework – A way to choose love over loss

The Alter Ego Framework is based on a simple yet powerful idea: We can borrow the strengths, wisdom, and qualities of those we admire to show up as our best selves. Many people create alter egos based on fictional characters, mentors, or aspirational versions of themselves. But for me, my alter ego was clear—it had to be my father.

He had always been my guide, my source of unwavering strength.

If I couldn’t call him anymore, I could still access him.

And so, I started asking:

When I doubted myself, what would he say?
When I felt overwhelmed, how would he handle it?
When I needed courage, could I step into his shoes, both figuratively and literally?

I realized he wasn’t just someone I had lost. He was someone I could still turn to—just in a different way.

How I Did the 10 Steps of the Alter Ego Framework

Step 1: Developing Intent

The intent was clear. I wanted to feel free again. I prepared a list of moments (called the Moments of Impact) when I felt helpless without him:

Feeling misunderstood or unheard
Getting disappointed by others
Not having someone to validate my observations
Facing self-doubt without someone to believe in me
Making sacrifices that wouldn’t have been necessary had he been around
The lump in my throat on Father’s Day when the whole world celebrates, but I simply miss
The helplessness of holding back tears because others might victimize me
The moments when I had to be strong when I really needed to feel safe

My extraordinary world?

My father passed away on the eve of his 43rd birthday in a car accident. Life is unpredictable. But he died without regrets. If you pick any one day from his life, he loved, he believed, he lived to the fullest. How was he always so happy?

In my mid-twenties, feeling resentful and disappointed in everyone around me, unsure about myself and my life goals, I desperately wanted to be like him, go back to the template of a perfect human and a regret-free life that my father had set.

My extraordinary life was my father's way of life.

Step 2: Understanding My Evolution & Discovering My Backstory

I reflected on how my father had shaped me. His values, his habits, the way he carried himself—these were all parts of my story that I could continue.

My favorite part of my relationship with my father was our honest conversations. I recalled all of them and started writing them down.

My father has shown me strengths in different ways.

Strength in sharing vulnerabilities:
When my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer, he asked me to be mindful of our expenses. It was his way of trusting me with responsibility, something not usual for men. I felt an immense sense of responsibility—he trusted me in a way that isn't usual for men even of this generation.
Strength in compassion and awareness:
As a teenager, I thought he was weak for maintaining ties with distant relatives. I once asked him why he did so much for those who weren’t always there for him.
He asked me in return, “Why do you share your notes with friends, even when they may not help you later?”
“Because I make them for myself and share what I have.” I replied.
And he said, “I share what I have. It doesn’t matter what others’ intentions are.”
I tried to ask him a trick question, "So you know they are useless?"
He simply said, "I know I am enough."
Strength in free thinking and belief
My father was also extremely religious. I remember the first time we did the Satyanarayan Puja at home. I was starting to be an atheist and questioned the ritual, asking, If I forget to invite you to my wedding, would you drown my husband? If God is worse than humans, why worship Him?

A relative snapped at me, saying, You don’t speak like that about God.

But my father snapped back, You don’t dismiss my daughter when she’s talking to me. Then he told them, I don’t think God would mind a 12-year-old girl using her mind and reason. If she doesn’t want to believe in God, that’s her choice.

The message to me was clear: I could dissent. If I was allowed to question something as sensitive as religion, I didn’t have to agree with everything just to be a “good girl.”

I understood he wasn't ordinary. And just like generational trauma, generational inspiration is also hard to get over. So I had to unlearn the narratives and expectations of society and get myself out of my trapped self in the ordinary world.

Step 3: Forgiveness and Gratitude

I made peace with the things left unsaid and embraced gratitude for all the moments we did have. I made peace with others. If I didn’t understand myself, how could I expect others to? Grudges gave way to gratitude.

Step 4: Developing self-belief

I recalled one of our last conversations.

I was excelling in school and after a Parent-Teacher Meeting in 8th grade, I asked him, “Are you proud?”

He said, “You won’t always top the class, but I will always be proud of you. I was prouder to see you treat the cleaning staff with the same respect as your teachers. I am prouder to know you share your notes with everyone in your class. Your achievements prove you are capable, but I am proud of who you are—compassionate, secure, and free."

That conversation cemented my self-belief back then. The recollection did just that now. When I completed my MBA and had a stable comfortable job after all the struggle and sacrifices, I told myself the same thing, “You are more than this.” And with that belief, I took the plunge into my childhood dream—starting a social enterprise.

People often say "you are more than your ups and downs" but only in failures. Can you be detached from your wins too?

I celebrate small wins, I cry at setbacks. But then don't stay stuck at either of them. I go on.

Step 5: Prioritization and Goal Setting

With newfound confidence in my values, I sought alternative ways to achieve the outcomes my father did for me. I used the habit loop to replace routines for similar rewards, for example, to feel understood, I turned to journaling and self-reflection and seeking answers in books, articles, movies, podcasts, sports and people around me.

The idea was to fill the void for myself.

Step 6: Crafting an alter ego

At first, I asked, “What would he do?” and did exactly that. When I succeeded and missed him celebrating, I pushed myself to celebrate in my way—solo dates or travel. When I failed, I gave myself the pep talk he would have given me.

Step 7: Building habits

Journaling stayed. Positive self-talk stayed. When I was low, I turned to activities that brought me joy—art, dance, volunteering, sports.

Celebrating my small wins stayed. I back myself every single time.

The more I did this, the less I cared if it made sense to others. I trust my gut.

Step 8: Unleashing alter ego

The familiar markers of life-home, workplace, routines , people , all fade into the background when you travel. A new place, new people offer great opportunity to unleash your alter ego. By stepping away from the limits of your current geography and identity, you open yourself to a blank slate where new possibilities emerge. Travelling frees me up. Traveling solo boosts confidence like nothing else.

I participated in many online and offline support groups to feel understood. But likeminded people often give you only comfort but not growth. Often it leads to dwelling in a victim's mindset and trapped in survival skills only which is why I conceived Alter Ego Community. The 10-steps help you grow but the storytelling, interactive role plays and games make it fun and collaborative.

Childhood trauma is like a backlog you have to clear but you still need to pass the current semester exams. Yes, I had to heal but I also wanted to have fun like other youngsters of my age. But the maturity, unpredictablity and reservedness often came in the way. That's why the hobby meetups in Alter Ego Community is a very empathetic way of exploring yourself, unleash alter egos, watch others try on different behaviours, connect on common hobbies and interests, and also heal yourself.

Step 9: Building new belief systems

All these are acts of self-love and self-sufficiency, which one needs anyway. But sometimes we need a reason. Perhaps, we need to hit rock bottom to rise. I had to feel lonely to embrace solitude. Once you embrace self-sufficiency and solitude, you don’t cling to people and don’t settle for less. It’s either solitude or solidarity. Letting go is easier as well. You always have you.

I started believing in myself, over success and failure and commit to continuous improvement for life.

An alter ego helps shift identity, from victim to winner. I stopped seeing myself as a daughter without a father and started seeing myself as a daughter who has an extraordinary father.

With time, my responses changed. I reacted with more patience, more love. I showed up with confidence, even in difficult situations.

Step 10: Integrating alter ego and becoming

I still miss my father, every day, every moment. But out of love, not helplessness.

It was never about not missing him. But being unapologetic about it.

I love better and freely because I don’t expect others to be like my father. I am my father. I look for my equals, not my father’s. Since the expectations have dropped, there’s less disappointment and more gratitude.

This wasn’t a one-time exercise. It became a way of life. Every day, I choose to embody the best parts of him. As a child, I always wanted to be like my father. Why did I stop being that?

I feel for young kids who lose a parent. But of all the ways to lose someone, I think death might be the kindest. It leaves you with memories. Those who lose their parents to betrayal, abandonment, or conflict carry wounds much deeper than death. People who lose their father young will never experience what I had. I am better off than people who are abandoned by their fathers. Who are alive but absent. I have greater empathy for everyone who has lost someone.

Today, I no longer act out of pain. I respond out of love. I perceive myself not as dead dad daughter but as a daughter of an extraodinary man!

I finally have no regrets. I am living my ideal life. Life is unpredictable. You don't know when death comes to you. But when it does, it will find me alive, just like it did to my father!