As my sister was calling me on Father's Day for the third time, I started to feel that sinking guilty feeling creeping up on me. I started feeling the sorrow, the pain and the anger too, but then I hung up and let it go. I spent Father's day all by myself and loved every second of it. I just refuse to celebrate a day that has never had an once of meaning for me. What I needed, expected, craved in a father was never present for me, so why should I be expected to reciprocate anything to any of the men that were supposed to fulfill that role? I've heard so many times, "It takes more than sperm donation to make a man a father." It also takes less than a second to teach a little girl she is worthless and she should seek out men that think she is worthless, because that's what love is.
I honestly don't even know what a great dad is. I know what he is not. I had some friends that loved their fathers and I respected them and the relationship they had with my friends. I have had friends that I thought were good fathers and that were very engaged with their family. My experience was not without love, but it was confusing and dangerous. Love came at a great cost and had many strings attached. In the end, the cost to my self was too high and I cut the strings. Unfortunately, I didn't come away free and clear. Those men shaped my future. As if trying to repair all the damage done to that little girl, I sought out men just like them to fill that empty void inside my heart. Or maybe it was just what I knew and what was comfortable for me to be around, so I chose good providers, strong silent types, shy guys that didn't know how to communicate, or just plain jerks that everyone viewed as the tough guys. All were emotionally unavailable, immature, selfish bullies that needed a woman that would feed their self-esteem, give them unconditional love and leave them to prove finally what an unworthy bitch she was like they had presumed all along. A few were clinically depressed, many were alcoholic or addictive personalities, but all of them were basically the same men as my fathers had been. All of them have had wonderful qualities about them, but the underlying traits that make it hard to have a relationship with them were there. Selfish, immature, problems with communication, and the inability to accept responsibility seem to be hallmarks with the men I get involved with. The trickiest part of all is they seem to hide it pretty well until after I fall in love with them. I'm not fully convinced that this is deception on their part, as much as it is blindness on mine. It is such a deeply rooted need to be validated and loved by my father that will never be fulfilled and the result is a blind spot that clouds my vision when viewing potential mates. Along with a few other 100 pounds of baggage I drag along to my dates, I take this cloudy vision and go merrily on my way in search of a drama free, loving relationship. Simple right?
As it turns out, no. Relationships, no matter what your baggage weighs, are hard. That is why there are counselors, therapists, life-coaches and television shows dedicated to how people navigate through them, because they can suck in a big way. Why do people continue to pursue them? It's nature, we like to school, pack, herd, whatever you call it, it's just the human animal doing what it does. I believe it is in my nature to complicate things as much as humanly possible I think too much. I worry too much. I make up things to complicate a relationship before they are even an issue. I self-preserve, make excuses, jump in head first, and then hate myself in the morning. I also love to work a relationship to death, apparently. Even when things are going well, I'm not at peace. So maybe it's just my nature to struggle? What is that old saying, "Anything worth having is worth fighting for," so on I struggle.
My biggest struggle regarding my fathers was neglect. I like to describe my biological father as driftwood that floated along in and out of my life, but essentially hollow and meaningless with a mysterious quality. My step-father was more like a tool. He was useful at times depending on the job, but if you weren't careful he could hurt you very badly and by the time the job was finished, he was always lost. Another man that tried to be a father figure to me was a youth counselor at church. As an inquisitive teen, I spent a brief and heartbreaking year in church. Although this man was a sweet, caring and very religious person he was also seeking validation. He didn't get what he was seeking and crushed any respect for him I would have had for all his teaching in the process. Another male authority figure I had growing up was my high school P.E. Coach. I still have the paper I wrote about him my freshman year of college. I always wanted a dad like him and I suspect he always wanted a daughter like me. The best thing he did for me was to let me know he cared and he was watching out for all of us kids. I will say he was the closest thing to a father I have ever had, but I graduated high school and he had other kids to teach. He is retired now and has lots of grand-kids to spoil. He still gives me a big old bear hug whenever he sees me and he tried to set me up with his son to no avail. Even though my teacher and my youth group leader were nice guys, they still couldn't replace the void left by my real father and I was left with the realization that all men leave. They are not a permanent fixture, only an accent piece.
I had no trust in men and was fairly sure this was just the way men are supposed to be. Whether or not that belief contributed to the subsequent failure of all my future relationships or not, which I suspect it did subconsciously, it did play a huge role. No relationship can exist without trust and the trust a little girl has in her parents will influence her future relationships. I learned from my fathers that it was normal and okay for them to be gone for long periods of time, to not know where I was or who I was with, that I was less interesting than anything they had going on even if it was just a cigarette, and that it was perfectly acceptable to behave in any way they liked even if it included hurting me or the people around me. My biological father took drugs, sold drugs, and placed me in dangerous situations. He drove drunk with me in the vehicle. He left me unattended with people that did not have my best intentions at heart. I knew at age nine I was more emotionally mature than he would ever be and could manipulate him into doing exactly what I wanted. I learned that they were paychecks, drivers or that if they found out what I was doing, they were dangerous. My step-father had explosive anger that was barely under control and our household was like a volcanic hot spot. It didn't matter what you did really, as long as you weren't standing close enough when the eruption happened. Luckily for us, he wasn't around that much. He was a business owner and provided for us very well monetarily, just never emotionally. It's difficult to have a relationship with a volcano. You can respect its power, but you can't hug it and if you choose to play within it's borders, you do so at your own risk. So as father figures go, I got driftwood, a volcano, a teacher and a liar. Not ideal, but I turned out okay.
Now that I'm nearing mid life, I have accepted that these men did the very best they could. They all loved me in their own way. Was it they way I needed them to? Hardly, but you can't change the past only the way you let it influence your life. I am still angry with them sometimes and I don't have any contact with any of them on a regular basis. Mostly, I am just sad for my biological father. He was responsible enough to realize that he didn't have the maturity to be a good father and had a vasectomy. My step-father and biological mother gave me two siblings that I cherish beyond words. He did provide for my basic needs growing up and we did have some fun times that he was actually present for. I love all of them, but the pain they bring into my life is far greater than the love I receive from them. I am available to them if they choose to open a dialogue with maturity, but when they call at what they feel are the appropriate birthday and holiday times to make small talk and invite me to this or that with one hours notice, I politely thank them and decline. It makes them feel better to have offered than it would if I actually accepted. I have stopped seeking approval from my fathers through the relationships I have with other men and now give myself the approval and praise I deserve. I will never get what I needed from a father, so I accept that and I get that from myself. Incredibly, this fierce independence has served me so well in my life and I'm very proud of that personality trait.
I'm not proud of the weak and needy person I was always trying to please men so that "daddy would love me". I am still angry at times that they broke my heart instead of fortifying it against all the evils of the world. My fathers didn't understand that love doesn't cost money. It costs time. The time you take to sit down and help with homework, to go to a volleyball game, to drive your kids to school or the doctor, or just to take a weekend off and go camping. Time to get to know your children's friends, listen to their music, watch a movie and talk about what they think is interesting and what you think is interesting about them. I know what not to do as a parent because of how badly they hurt me as a child. I used this hurt and anger as an excuse for so long prohibiting myself from a real and honest relationship! Blaming them or any man for hurting me just seems silly at this point, because I am a big girl and I allowed it. It's pretty easy to date someone and tell if they are selfish or immature. I love that book, "He's just not that in to you." What the author doesn't say is you weren't important enough to those men for them to be honest with you. They aren't mature enough to accept that you might listen to what they are really saying and accept that there isn't chemistry or whatever and just say, okay thanks for the drinks. They only selfishly wanted your attention, but did not want to give you anything you wanted in return or an opportunity to hurt them. I, like that author, believe all women have wonderful things about them and all women need to value those things before anyone else will. We all self-preserve. That is where my fathers failed miserably! The best thing a dad can do for his child is to recognize his/her individual talents and to dote on him/her. Is she an artist, good at sports, debate? Is she a great communicator, social, have lots of friends? I wish either of my fathers had taken the time to notice that I was always writing or asked to read something I had written. I mailed a copy of that paper I wrote about my high school coach to him and he had it published in the local paper. It still make me cry, for lots of reasons.
I know the damage both parents can do to their children and I know first hand that adults can over come that damage with time. I joke with my mother that parenting is only working out your childhood issues with live models. The good thing about my dads are they were good guys trying the best they could. The bad thing about my dads is they weren't very good a being mature, responsible people. The ugly thing about my dads is that even with all the help available for them to change, they still chose to remain selfish, immature, addicted and alone instead of getting help and making changes that would open their hearts just a little more to having a relationship with the adult I've become. Every child needs their father their whole life every bit as much as they need a mother. Luckily, as you become an adult you need parents for different things. I only need them to just be happy in their own lives at this point, and that is something I have no control over or responsibility for. I wish them the best of luck with that. I choose to look at the good and forget the bad and the ugly and ride off into the sunset a winner.
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