I think I share this same photo every year for Father's Day because it captures the essence of my male / Gobble lineage so well--the body shape, the particular style, the smile & its corresponding vibe, the camaraderie, the white square that plagues our faces. My dad is in the dark brown jacket; my Uncle Cooter is the other feller. Has my dad been a perfect father? Of course not, no one is (& we must stop expecting people to be perfect!), but the most important lesson he taught me was learning from one's father's mistakes & continuing to grow as a human being no matter what. He saw the mistakes of his father--alcoholism, poor financial choices, & a lack of community--& went the opposite; he barely drank when I was growing up, emphasized buying things that provided positive activities, & he modeled having hobbies & a good circle of friends. As he got older, he made great strides in understanding & sympathizing with folks who were different from him, myself included, his mentally ill, weirdo poet son.
I, in turn, am working to not fall into the cultural & societal traps that were some of his shortcomings--fear-based decision-making, quick judgement, & an over-emphasis on job-related work. Thankful for all my father has taught me, gifted me, been beside me for. He is retired & living in North Carolina these days, for the first time in 35 years, just a golf cart ride away from his last surviving brother. I couldn't be happier for this chapter of his life. As for me, I got a redneck dad who was playful, kind, & not a Trump supporter. Lucky me!
On holidays like this, I think it is always important to acknowledge & send good vibes to those on the other side of celebrating, the ones with hot wires under the surface in regards to this particular F-word, "father." This is an important step in my journey to rewire my default setting, the one that insists I am the center of the universe, that my experience is the primary experience. On Father's Day, let us not forget the folks without fathers, the folks who can't be fathers, the folks who have been hurt by their fathers, the fathers who've lost a kiddo, the folks separated from their fathers.
I see the difficulty in moments like this, when the world is locked into a lane that one can't access, & I'm sorry that has happened to you. This year, I was sending good vibes to those folks, & I always hope they have the support needed & plenty of other things to celebrate, this & everyday. I say to them, "May you be happy, may you be comforted." In upcoming holidays & celebrations, I hope to be more proactive in reaching out to those othered by moments like this.
As for the fathers in my life, I did my best to reach out to all the good good ones out there, to give props to all y'all keeping it real. From my time as an educator & my outsider perspective, not just on this day, but every day, I hope to offer what I can in encouragement & inspiration. To keep playing with your kids. To keep improving yourself. To keep communicating your feelings & growing your passions. To keep modeling your values for the little ones.
When I was married, I'd often get asked why we didn't have kids or plans to pop some out. I usually mentioned the issue of overpopulation or the ethics of bringing someone into such a cruel world or our lack of a stable lifestyle, blah blah. I'd also throw in "not wanting to pass this along to a poor kiddo," making a crazy hand gesture encircling my head. Sure, I could talk my way outta those first reasons, but that latter answer had to be honored, unflinchingly.
Truth is, for the last decade-plus, even through true madness, misdiagnosis, & improper treatment, I knew enough to know that something was dangerously abnormal in my mind, causing me to have severe mood swings, impulse control issues, & even violent outbursts. I knew it was immoral to subject a kid to that, no matter how awesome I might be as a parent (& you best believe I'd be fun as hell & a grand supporter of curiosity & hands on learning). Yes, I'd love to have a little buddy to teach disc golf & read poems to at bedtime & have dance parties in the truck. But up till now & for the foreseeable future, I'm gonna have to put that energy into being a rad Uncle T-GOB.
As for the guys in my life thinking about becoming a father or already in that role, I always urge them to not forget to take care of themselves, holistically. I know many people, myself included, who were unnecessarily negatively affected or even traumatized by their father's simple lack of awareness about their psychology & how their behavior affects their children. Male mental health matters, for the father, for their partner, & especially for their kiddos.
As men, we are taught to hide our feelings, suppress natural urges to discuss what's going on, & put our energy into more "productive" or "masculine" activities. I say the exact opposite is true, especially in regards to giving our children a better life than we had, a goal I hope all fathers share. If one is modeling self-awareness, self-improvement, & self-care, the kiddos will see that & likely grow with that in their value system, thus hopefully leading more expansive & dynamic lives. What I'm saying is let's normalize men taking care of their mental health, okay.
Pete Holmes introduced me to a more mystical, humanist perspective on Heaven & Hell, one that I'm sure has a richer & deeper tradition than I am just preparing to explore. Instead of this silly & stody idea that Heaven & Hell are actual, physical places based on an opaque reward/punishment system, this other perspective suggests that they are more metaphorical, humanity-based concepts. Simply, if you've left a good legacy of people remembering you fondly, kindly, & often, then you're in Heaven after death. Oppositely, if you're remembered negatively, then you're in Hell. Of course, this isn't a literal understanding of how it works; taken literally, it'd be just as short-sighted & flawed as fundamentalism. However, it is very appealing as a story-focused mind frame, an opportunity to ground ethics in human-centered, practical modes.
I'm lucky to have a good-sized property for Ginny Bug (my six-year-old pitbull) to wander around on & even luckier to have a dog who will stay in the yard & who listens well. But I have been trying, a couple times a week, to take Ginny in town or to a park disc golf course for leashed walks. I think it reminds us both of our connection, our collaboration, our compromise.
I want to flirt with the world!
What's that they say about the difference between hearing & listening? It's a below-the-surface-level thing, how much processing & engaging are had & how that manifests a continued response. My new therapist, in our first session, threw me off because unlike recent professionals who listened & nodded, she was asking bold questions & making big connections. Even when off-base, it felt invigorating to be heard like that, met in the middle of a depth that's rare around here these days.
During therapy today (5/19), we pin-pointed the physiological underpinnings of my disorders (bipolar I & intermittent explosive disorder). It seems clear that these are both related to the unresolved trauma of my Uncle Ricky's death & my Grandma Tyner's death (age 8, both of which I had premonitions about), as well as the separation from my half-brother TG when I was 4. As both my therapist & Peter A. Levine in Waking The Tiger have pointed out, the aggressive outbursts, the on-the-edge feelings, & the depressive pitfalls are the leftover energy from that early trauma. It never got explored or resolved, so my whole brain has rewired to anticipate such calamity & maintain that intense on-guard reaction to my ongoing life.
There was this kid Jack (name obviously changed) at the park the other day when I took my little cousin. I knew Jack from when I worked at the school. He is probably eight now, but he's big & his parents already let him roam town. Every generation in Elwood has a couple of these kids--oversized, undersupervised, no emotional / social skills, very physical. He just terrorized the other kids--slapping them hard on the back for no reason, scaring them at the bottom of the curly slide, randomly yelling. It's easy to think "little shit," abut the real work comes in sympathizing with him for all the physiological, environmental, & genetic factors stacked against him.
I think I'm gonna quit drinking. It just feels like the right time. One part financial decision, one part physical lifestyle change, one part psychological necessity.