“You are not your dad.”
This is the last thing my ex-wife ever said to me.
For the longest time I looked up to my dad. He was my hero. I wanted to make him proud. But, as one does, you become older and you start to figure out the world yourself. Well, I sadly lost my hero when he decided to do things his own way, against my solicited advice, and leave our family. He had his reasons. In hindsight my mom and dad are more or less the same person so butting heads was inevitable but that’s when you try to work on things.
I learned this through my own marriage. Nothing prepares you for when your spouse asks for a divorce. You then put in extra effort to heal and better things. But if the heart isn’t willing you just have to let life run its course. So, I focused on myself. Going to therapy, figuring out what triggers me, and getting equipped with the right tools to not only better understand my weaknesses but use these tools to my strengths for a healthier me. And in turn, I’ve become a person that feels most me. I’m different. I’m always thinking. I always have an opinion. And I’m spicy/passionate about what I care about. And over the years I’ve learned how to be more respectful, compassionate, and patient. I have bad days still, but I’m trying. And to me that’s all that matters.
Effort is noticed. Effort is heard. Effort is felt.
Now even though my dad was no longer my hero I still wanted to make him proud. By my works I wanted to make him proud. I was the rebel, the troublemaker at home. I would do things that were unconventional. I would push back when the reason was “just because”. I would get myself into trouble—mentally and financially. But my parents would say I was a good kid. And my dad was still my dad who I wanted to make proud. I wanted to feel heard. I wanted to prove that doing things differently can also be rewarded.
Over the years my dad and I would get into conflicts so bad we wouldn’t speak to each other for months at a time. It was either something like my birthday, father’s day, or Christmas we’d put in effort to talk again. But, if I’m being honest, sadly ever since I lost my hero my dad and I have been distant.
Even though he’d disagree with me on this I do think I’m a bother to him. And sadly, through his recent actions and words I was proven right.
My ex-wife knew my childhood trauma with my dad. She knew the things I hated about myself. She knew the things that made me similar to my dad, some I like and some I don’t like. And by the grace of God and through therapy the final weeks leading up to us saying goodbye one last time we were able to have a very respectful, tough, but good conversation about life.
This week will mark 4 years since our divorce was final.
I think back when this happened. My dad was so sorry. He felt he was responsible. But I had told him, this wasn’t on you. This was between me and her and that I’m at peace with it.
Later my dad would go to church for the first time in a long time seeking more than just checking the box—being a church goer. I was so happy for him! And this church would actually be the one I used to work at and attend until me and my future wife decided to attend her church.
Fast forward, and my dad would loose his dad. My dad didn’t agree with or like his dad but we still went to the funeral. Nothing personal from the family was said about my grandpa. It was just a very cold wintery sad day. In the back of my mind, I wondered if these moments would offer an opportunity for us to be better together.
More months would go by and we’d get into a conflict about my nephew getting my childhood baseball bat without my consult. On my way home I’d get a text from him asking if I was okay as I seemed quiet and that something may be bugging me (still to this day I don’t believe it was him who thought this and it was more my stepmom). So I called. And then was verbally attacked while he played the victim, which is the one thing I have done and still sometimes do that I dislike about myself. I hung up, apologized, and asked him to call me back when he too was better ready.
6 months would go by. We’d meet up for lunch to catch up and share some family news. I then asked if he was sorry for not reaching back out. He was annoyed. We decided to agree to disagree on what all happened that day. I guess I just wanted to spend time with my dad.
Fast forward more and I had decided to gift my dad coffee shop money for us to have regular coffee times together. It was in celebration of his retirement. Might I add we live only 15 minutes from each other but typically during the course of a year I’d see him only 4 to 6 times for birthdays and holidays. I figured what if just the two of us could have routine, scheduled time together. Maybe this could help.
They were great! He even got to meet who is marrying me and my future wife come October. Oh and my dad loves her (my future wife). These two could nerd out and talk about science things for hours. After times we’d hangout together I’d tell her, “hey you got to talk with my dad more than I did.”
And then came the day I have been anxious about for over 2 years. I still had to tell my dad I was taking her last name. So I reach out and say I’d love to meet in person or FaceTime to tell something important. We chatted. He was taken back by it as to be expected. He asked why. I shared the reasoning. I then asked what he thought. And he surprised me by saying, “kiddo nothing I say can change your mind and honestly all that matters is between you and her.” I was very proud of my dad.
Then came a text 4 hours later. It was all undone. Text after text I’d be getting attacked, told who I was, told what I was trying to do, and it was hurtful.
It was clear to me that my dad was not my dad during that FaceTime. Nope, the real dad showed up as an immature coward in a victim costume trying to get me to change my mind and make me feel bad for my decision while dishing out lies.
The effort I put in all forgotten.
The feeling of being heard erased.
Yeah, I’m not my dad.
