Growing up looked a little different for me. I didn’t come from a broken home; I didn’t have divorced parents; but something felt like it was out of place. All my life I rebelled against the fact that my dad had a say in my life. We didn’t really have the best relationship – he was always working, and if he wasn’t working he would be taking his frustrations out on me. It was like a never-ending cycle. It was pretty confusing and uncomfortable to me, because the more he pushed, the more I pushed back. Let’s just say our home was pretty intense most of the time.
I started to look at my dad and his life because I knew what was wrong with me, but I wanted to try and figure out why he reacted the way he did. I found some pretty crazy stuff: turns out he was an orphan from four years of age and never knew what it was to have a good father figure in his life.
It’s crazy that generations of bad fathers could have an effect on my dad and me. It was surreal to me but I continued to try and figure it out. It boiled down to my dad reacting and acting off of his hurt and his experience of what a father was.
I finally figured out a method that helped me to deal with the situation: I realised that in order for there to be a good father, there needed to be a good son. If I wanted my father to treat me with respect, I had to show him that I would be consistent in all I did. I had to make him proud even when he wasn’t looking.
And so it brings me to today: The relationship between my father and I are better than ever. It’s weird thinking about it because I’m not used to it yet, but looking back, I know change only came when I decided to step out in faith and become a son that he could be proud of – not to make him happy, but so that generations to come will carry the same heart for family that we do now.
Godspeed.