Friday, June 24, 2011


What is the picture in your mind whenever someone uses the descriptor Helpless? Is it a baby bird that has fallen from the nest; a small fawn that has been separated from her Mother? The incredible imagines of a baby Kangaroo making the journey from womb to mothers pouch for the remainder of their gestation period. Interesting enough is all of the examples used are of a child and its
Mother, never the Father.

The pictures that natural paints of the Father Child relationship are those of that leave us all trying to understand how the Father could walk away from his child with such reckless abandon. Why is natural wired in this manner? A better question, are WE wired like that? In our world a Mother is for sure the nurturer watching with a trained eye for even the slightest change in behavior that might send the signal the child is in need. Ever watch a new mother with their first born? They leap to the bedside at the slightest whimper from the little one. The newly crowned Fathers are basically the same way. And here is where I start.

As I have written here numerous times I have a young son that is more than a small trail in my life. He just simply can’t seem to get it through his thick skull that what other people think and say is important, and should be listened too. This, as I have tried to explain a thousand times, is extremely important when the other person is either his Boss or supervisor! However, if he is in disagreement then, they, the person in question (read moron to him) should instantly recognize his superior mental ability and surrender their position and bow to his superior intellect. He has lost no less than 4 jobs because of this character flaw.

I would like to think that I am well respected in my industry. I have many friends who own the businesses that I call on daily. I have gotten my son two jobs in my field. He has been fired from both! It hasn’t damaged me as yet but I cannot allow his continued social ineptness to be my responsibility. And here is where the word helpless comes into play. As his Father I feel totally helpless as I sit by the wayside and watch him fail time after time without trying to rush in and save him. I talk to him, I give advice, I counsel, I try to support as best I can but to no avail. Is this what Fatherhood is all about? Is this how you make a man? Am I doing the right thing? These are the questions I ask myself every single night. The worst part is we have friends, dear friends who are more able to support their children who are close to his age. All he sees is the others, who struggle like him with life, being able to continue a lifestyle I cannot give him. This doesn’t help me either but I simply cannot afford to maintain his lifestyle and mine so I selfishly choose mine. In my heart I believe he will be so much better off making it on his own when he does he will mean something to him, as it did to me. He will feel, as I did, that I made it. I can make it. I am finally a man. He of course doesn’t see it this way. He feels like the entire world has lined up with the sole purpose of making absolutely certain he is trampled and broken. How do you feel that? In and during all of my trails I have never felt like anybody, especially the world as a whole, owed me a thing other than a chance.

So there in lies my dilemma. I guess as I write this I think I am sticking to my same strategy. He has jumped out of the boat he now must swim a while. I will allow him to get a little water in his mouth and make sure some gets in his eyes, but drown; I just simply cannot allow that to happen. Good thing he doesn’t have a clue about this space and even better no one really reads it. But it sure is good therapy for me.

So I am wishing you never have a helpless feeling wherever your children are concerned. If they are successes please call them and tell them you are proud of them. I promise one day I will be able to make that call. Now the question, will I be man enough to carry on that conversation without breaking down with pride?


The Blessed Man

No comments:

Post a Comment