A friend of mine said something interesting to me recently. She said, "We all have daddy problems." Of course, this applies much more to some than others, but in general, almost everybody has some problem with their father that fucks them up.
Whether it be the absence of a father, some form of neglect, or just the idea that your father hindered you, we all have problems with our dads. For me, it's a little different, but I do have "daddy problems".
I can't speak for most others, but maybe explaining my situation might help. Honestly, I would consider my relationship with my father to be a good one. There are some poisonous raptors in the closet, but that closet isn't used too often.
I mean, we don't talk too much; so, maybe our decent relationship is a result of superficiality? He always told me how proud he was of me. Over this past summer, my brother drove home from a bar or something slightly tipsy and ran over a mailbox; the whole event caused a pretty decent riff in the family between my father and my brother. One of the most recent times where my father said he was proud of me was after an argument between my father and brother concerning the accident/screw-up. His reasoning was personified in this one image he had in his mind. Basically, I used to do gymnastics but quit after a year's struggle with some fractures in my back. Anyway, the image of me that made him proud was that before we knew there were fractures, I would basically struggle through it. After every vault or floor or hi bar practice/competition routine, I would bend over and try to stretch my back because, who woulda thought, it turned out to be broken. (I'm fine now, btw)
My daddy problems do correspond around my sexuality and atheism, but as of yet, they are not problems. They are future problems--or never problems, depending on which one comes first.
My father thinks I am close to the perfect son. He and my grandfather have always favored me because I'm good at everything (but socializing). I think they really like me because of my brains. I don't know; it's a relationship. It's complex.
I think my relationship with my father is similar to my
relationship to God. I don't want him to exist the way he does, and if I
so chose, I could end the relationship. But there are times where I
think of him, and I can't help but have these feelings. Of happiness?
Of contentment? Of love?
I guess when it all boils down, it's always me striving for approval and him seeking to give it. I wonder when our dance will fall apart.
Last year or so, I had this general idea that I owed my father nothing
because it was his JOB to raise me. It was HIS burden. But now, I
think I had it completely wrong. It was his burden; it was his JOB to
raise me. BUT, I did owe him something. For every moment he gave to
me. For every favor he gave to me. For every time that he said, "I'm
proud of you" and genuinely meant it. For every second he spent trying
to raise me in the way he thought best. I owe him everything and yet
nothing.
Sorry for another super-long, wordy post. I hope you can pull some wisdom from this and apply it to your life. If you're still reading however, it's probably because you enjoy these venting stories. It adds another aspect to life, I guess.
ReplyDeleteIf it doesn't help you, it does help me. So please bare with me. (hehe, grammatical mistake or pun? you decide)
Maddy,
ReplyDeletePlease never apologize for your posts. If we didn't want to read them, we simply wouldn't come back. You share so openly. I care about friends like you who do so, but I almost always withhold advice unless you're threatening bodily harm to yourself or others.
In any case, I think you've hit the nail on the head about relationships with fathers. Mine was fraught with pitfalls, crevasses, and deep, deep pits, but also there were high points, summits, times that I was so happy Dad was my DAD! I was the black sheep of the family, the one least likely to date (they didn't know why), the band member, theatre geek - while my brothers were jocks (dad was a jock who played semi-pro basketball and was coached by some famous coaches). But dad always came to my plays, my band concerts, all of it. And always told me how well I'd done - his equivalent of "I'm proud of you".
Later in his life, he'd save little jobs for me to do for him...mostly electrical or too heavy for him to deal with. It drove me crazy, but as you point out, I owed him something - maybe not doing silly jobs around the house for him, but because of all the time he gave me, all the morals he instilled in me, all the life lessons he passed on, mostly through the way he lived his life.
The only part of your post I don't agree with is the last 3 words: "and yet nothing". I think the first part of that sentence says it all.
Sorry for another super-long, wordy comment. I love your posts because they make me think about my own life, just like this one did.
Peace <3
Jay
Only since my father died a decade and a half ago have I realised how complicated that relationship was. For years it was dominated by the gulf that opened up between us when I was 15 and he responded to my mother dying by adopting a crazy form of evangelical religion. It produced an aloneness that has stayed with me always. But looking back, he did so well to put up with me while I finished school, and that can't have been easy, and he supported me through uni without questioning. And I see in myself so many of his traits. I am in so many ways his son.
ReplyDeleteThe shadow that hangs over your relationship with him, that one day he will know, and the uncertainty that causes must be tough. My hope is that your mother will be there to bridge the gap like mine never was.