—
I feel as if I have just stepped back from the brink, from falling into an abyss.
It has been surfacing for months now and I keep stepping back. I am afraid to let go, to let it out. The feeling inside is so overwhelming I don’t know what will happen. I know that writing this is some way of getting control over it. To process it, to cope with it.
I can vividly remember three moments of my life with my (adoptive) father. He was a vicar and when I was younger I would dutifully go to church on Sundays.
The first moment was of him preaching a sermon on “Faith, hope, and charity”. He spoke about it really meaning “Faith, hope, and love”. The more he preached about love the more I hated him. Typing that word has made me stop, I can feel myself pulling back, it feels wrong to say that. What I really hated was that I did not feel his love. He had all this love for his people, his flock, his congregation, where was the love for me? What about ME?
The second moment was of him at the altar preparing to celebrate communion. He would kneel before the altar and pray, whispering to himself, “Lord, I am not worthy”, over and over again. I can still sense the love, passion, and humility to this day. It was a love and connection that I never felt.
I have no memory of him loving me, of holding me, of playing with me. He was never there.
I don’t even know my real father’s name. I certainly don’t know my adoptive father’s love.
—
What I notice each and every day is how much of my energy, love, and passion is directed towards my two sons. They are 12 and 10.
I was never going to have children because I was afraid they would be like me.
And then I did. Now they are my ten (out of ten).
We play, we hug, we talk, we tease, we grow, we fail, we fall out, we make up. We do so many things together and the more I do the more it exposes the wound, and the pain I feel. I have no memory of any of these things. I would say I envy them, but it is not envy. I am so excited for them and us that we can create this amazing time together.
I am discovering my own way in fatherhood as my father did not prepare me for this.
He did not prepare me for how to be with my sons.
He did not prepare me for how to be their father.
He did not prepare me for the suffering I feel inside, the more that I love my children.
And, I am afraid of the pain inside of me. The gaping wound in me. I am afraid that anyone might see it. I am afraid that once I let it come out it won’t stop.
I am afraid that Truda won’t understand it or be able to cope with it.
So, I hang on. I keep it inside. I keep it unseen. He did not prepare me for that either.
So, I am letting a little bit of it out today.
—
Photo: Getty Images
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