Friday, June 19, 2015

Are You a Father?

If you're a man and have children, you're a father.

You help shape and influence how your children begin to view their world.

The role father's play are invaluable and can affect how we parent, see ourselves and navigate life. 

If we are born, we've all had a father. Everyone's Dad has meant something personal to them, good or bad.

Still many people are grieving the loss of what they had, thought they had or never had.

I wish I could say I'm proud of my father, but I can't. But I can be thankful for the role models provided for me. I can also choose to not let the hole in my dad's heart contaminate mine.

If you've read some of my other posts, you've gathered by now that my relationship with Dad wasn't so hot. While his temper was pretty hot, our relationship was pretty cold.

This post isn't about lecturing on parenthood or making someone feel guilty. I'm not in your shoes nor am I a guy.

But I had a father and what I am ... is ... his daughter.
When I was born, mom told me I was the apple of Dad's eye ...
but I never heard it from him.
Amazing how in the midst of our family storms, life went on...

Boyfriends, girlfriends, braces, prom, babysitting, ten speed bike. Listened to music such as the Doors, Lynyrd Skynyard, Simon & Garfunkel, Jim Croce, CCR, Grateful Dead, Carol King. Mom took my brother to Cub Scout father-and-son soap box derbies. Dad challenged me to eat raw clams on the half shell with hot sauce and by god, I determined to like them and did.

Living with Dad was like playing Russian roulette. I never knew what would make him pull the trigger or when his bullet would strike. Was he in a good mood? At least content? Or at least was he in a non-confrontational mood?

Did I fold the laundry wrong? Was it because I folded laundry? Did I let the door slam? Was I on the phone or on too long? Did I look at him wrong? Did I look at him at all? Was it because I watched television? Did I? Did I? Did I? Tip toeing daily around mind games exhausted me.

Somehow, through the insanity of my home life, I received the message that my life wasn’t so bad. It could’ve been worse. Well this is true, something can always be worse, but does that make it okay? If this wasn’t abuse, what was it?