It still called me by the name he gave me, not the name I call myself.
So now it's under the same restrictions he is. It doesn't have my permission to speak to me anymore.
From my family members who are still in touch with him, I hear that my dad sends me angry or manipulative messages fairly frequently, but just like I have all my electronic forms of communication set to delete his messages without opening them because I've firmly decided I don't care what they say, the rest of my mind dismisses his voice in my head as pathetic, irrelevant, and not even worth hearing.
Once I realized the opinions of that voice deserved to be regarded with contempt--specifically contempt, and _very_ occasionally pity--it became much easier not to be their victim.
I thought about it and tried to develop awareness, because I was aware that my mind generated feelings of guilt, shame, fear, etc. out of seemingly nowhere.
Guess what. I found the inner voice. And it was harshly critical. It constantly contradicted things I did and tried to put me down.
Moreover, I recognised it as the “voice of my family”. I somehow likened it to the way my family members responded when they were at their most critical. While they are not always like that, my voice was always like that. It was like the worst of them in my head all the time.