I never knew what it was or still is about him that intimidates the hell out of me. I never cease going back to being that eight year old boy that looks up to his father like he was the biggest, strongest, baddest mofo on this planet; and yet still having this barrier between us to really knowing what this man is about. Having a sense of respect but also a sense of total fear when he starts to shout.
“Don’t make me have to raise my voice!”
That warning sparked palpitations when raised.
There are some people that earn respect. And then there are others that rule out of sheer fear and obedience. My father ruled with a little bit of both.
He was loving, kind and provided for his family. We also knew when he said do something, it better be done. There was never a dichotomy between the two. They seemed to work hand in hand hence the great respect.
The ironic thing about the whole scenario is I was always the good boy who hardly ever got in trouble. (With the exception of not doing my homework. My grades were terrible.)
My sister: she was always getting into trouble. My dad and her butted heads like two rams. Get two alpha personalities in the same household and you got yourself major fireworks. I would stay in my room in total silence while my mom came out to make sure no one killed each other.
My dad really got on my sister. He disciplined the hell out of her. But she held her ground and said what she was going to say no matter what the outcome was. With me he never really disciplined me much. Hell, he really didn’t have to. I’ve seen the shit that went down in our household and I was cool with not acting up.
Even though my Dad was on my sister like white on rice, my sister got away with saying things to both my mom and my dad that I only wish I had the balls to say. But even though they would literally throw down in times of turbulence, my sister and my Dad had a bond that never could be broken.
She was and is to this day, Daddy’s girl. As I was growing up I always related to my Mom. Was I a Momma’s boy? I really can’t say. I just know if I really wanted the latest video game or something I knew would take some major coaxing, Mom was the one to go to. Okay we both knew who we could work over to eventually get our way.
Even though I was, okay I’m going to say it; a Momma’s boy, I always felt the great need to really know my father. I felt like my sister really got him and for some reason I couldn’t even get through the first layer with him. To this day I swear whenever we talk on the phone it is usually a maximum of 10 minutes. That's on a good day. Whenever he's on the phone with my sister no less than an hour. But I know he loves me and I love him. I just wish I knew what is under all those layers. There is a man in there. A man that has seen plenty of things good, bad and ugly.
When my sister calls she shares how important it is to make sure we are checking on him because he’s recently windowed from his second wife. (Not my Mom) he lives by himself and there are a lot of things going on with him physically that he is not sharing.
“Like what?”
Oh boy when my sister spilled the tea! I was like “What the fuck! Get out of here!”
Some of the things my sister told me literally made my head spin. But how did she know so much about his life and I didn’t?
What I realized is that intimidation that I had of my father prevented me from really getting to know him.
It was and is why we can’t spend more than ten minutes on the phone before It’s “time to get off the phone" because we have “a lot of stuff to do.”
I always envied: Not as much envied as I longed to be able to talk to my dad like my sister does.
My dad a few years ago just out of the blue said, “ You know my current wife thinks I treat you differently from your sister. She thinks I don’t spend enough time with you.”
He continued with this very old school reasoning, “She’s way off. It’s just different between girls and boys. I never felt I needed to discipline you as much. I just let you be, well you.”
I wanted so much to say, “That’s bullshit. And I’m going to tell you why that’s bullshit. Every little boy looks up to his father. He wants nothing more than for him to love him, be proud of him and yes even push him when he needs to be push. What’s most, that little boy wants to know who his father really is.”
But that’s not what came out.
What came out was, nothing. I kind of just nodded my head and wished for the 5 minute conversation to be over.
I am an extremely sensitive and very expressive person. But with my Dad I often just put up this wall and say, "Yelp" or "Nope."
It is really how we are used to communicating. So the issue is not only the wall my Dad has. It is also the wall I have built up as well. And that wall is not exclusive to him. I have various walls built with lots of people. It just depends on their level of crazy and how it interacts with my crazy. That ultimately determines how high and thick that wall is going to be.
About a year ago my sister revealed something so elementary. Something that was in my face all this time.
She revealed that my silence intimidates my dad just as much as his “In your face” approach intimidates me. He has witnessed my silence with various people in my life and knows that that silence will build up to me either having one of those “Let me tell you about yourself” conversations or it could be the ending of a relationship with you. The thing about it is with my dad neither of those things would ever be possible. Well, maybe one day the “Let me tell you about yourself” conversation. But I stress with extreme caution.
Recently I got a serious laugh from a blog post I read Conversations with My Father: Summer Visit Edition. I couldn’t help but crack up at the cool banter that went back and forth and how explicitly open Mr. Steed was with his father about his dating life. As funny as it was, it made me realize just how much of that I would long to have with my father.
My dad; shit, my whole family loves my husband to death.
When asked how he’s doing I just say, “Oh he’s fine.”
I just have grown so accustomed to providing as little information as possible. I never wanted to throw my “gayness” in their faces all the time.
Everyone to this day including the man that wanted me to procreate to make little Daddy Scruffs has fallen in love with my husband. So why the walls?
Fuck! I don’t know! You tell me!
I guess the one thing that matters above all else is that my dad loves me and I love him even if we have a unique way of showing it.
Yep! Definite Daddy issues!
But I’m so grateful I have him in my life.
When someone talks about the relationship they had with their father I can't help but be compelled and intrigued. It's just something that was a foreign concept for me. My father was present. but he was never a father figure and never part of my life. It took many years for me to come to terms with that reality.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry to hear that. My dad and I always had a strange relationship. However he was there we really just didn't have much in common. I hope in some way things may be better between you and your father. Sometimes time and getting to a certain point in our own adult lives help with healing. Sometimes its the same shit different day. I hope that it is first scenario for you.
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