There is a season...
In the spirit of spring, this post is dedicated to change.
After reading The Metamporphosis, by Franz Kafka, or at least the part that was allowed in school, I remember thinking that he's one crazy bastard. But I also remember psycho-analyzing it. The withdrawal from his family allowed him the opportunity to change into whatever he felt like. Even if his family didn't like it (which they proved by retaliating violently) he had to change into something. If he was a teenager, or invoking some pubescent angst, I can relate. Looking back on my teenage years, the days spent in solitary reflection are days that were spiritually vibrant. I wrote, sang, laughed at myself and was at peace. When I was surrounded by family or other teens, I was nervous, anxious and constantly aware of whatever enormous pimple had erupted. Now, I have a teenager. Well, as of June. The problem with my step-son is that he wants so badly to become a man, but doesn't know what kind of man he wants to be. His father died when he was 5 and I came along a couple of years ago and just leapt into the saddle and dug in my spurs. We have had a hard time adjusting to each other. I tumbled out of my comfort zone and was forced to deal with my short-comings as a man. I have never been so aware of my faults. Short temper, selfish, arrogant, close-minded. Everything has to coordinate with my idea of ideal reality and fitting a 12 year old into adult shoes is insane. My first major breakthrough came when my wife suggested I not yell and speak to him calmly without getting frustrated with his attitude. It was incredible! I actually accomplished something! Also, this conversation, and subsequent conversations, have opened the door to really feeling like a dad. I love my wife with intensity. I have devoted my life to her and, in turn, to the boys. They, however, are skeptical, at best, and when trust has broken down, it's really difficult to rebuild it with them. I know that they see through me. I know they see my flaws and shortcomings. I just don't know how to win them back. I'm skeptical, too. The oldest carries around a picture of his dad wherever he goes - even if it's only for a night. This makes me insecure. It's stupid, I'm supposed to be the strong one. Everyone tells me how brave I am for taking on this responsibility. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. The question I keep asking myself is: Would I have taken this on if I'd known how hard it would be? That's the million dollar question. Divorce is not an option, but if I were to do it all over again, I would deal with the boys in an entirely different way. First, I would get to know them and want to know them. Now, I know them and I want to love them. When something happens and my wife sees my eyes flash red, she tries to calm me down a bit before I go off on them. See, she wants them to grow out of her love for them. Her sense of responsibility comes out of her heart of caring that they grow up to be responsible, well-adjusted adults. Mine comes out of a sense of responsibility. I want them to be responsible, according to my perspective of responsibility. I want them to fashion themselves according to my expectations. I don't want to keep these expectations. I want to let them change and adapt with their personalities intact. I want them to learn what their strengths are. I want them to learn how to love a woman like I love their mom. That's the best example I have for them. I surely don't want them to learn how to love their kids from my example. I am, however, working on it and want to love them like a father should. I want them to grow up and be proud of me, too.
[more inside]
After reading The Metamporphosis, by Franz Kafka, or at least the part that was allowed in school, I remember thinking that he's one crazy bastard. But I also remember psycho-analyzing it. The withdrawal from his family allowed him the opportunity to change into whatever he felt like. Even if his family didn't like it (which they proved by retaliating violently) he had to change into something. If he was a teenager, or invoking some pubescent angst, I can relate. Looking back on my teenage years, the days spent in solitary reflection are days that were spiritually vibrant. I wrote, sang, laughed at myself and was at peace. When I was surrounded by family or other teens, I was nervous, anxious and constantly aware of whatever enormous pimple had erupted. Now, I have a teenager. Well, as of June. The problem with my step-son is that he wants so badly to become a man, but doesn't know what kind of man he wants to be. His father died when he was 5 and I came along a couple of years ago and just leapt into the saddle and dug in my spurs. We have had a hard time adjusting to each other. I tumbled out of my comfort zone and was forced to deal with my short-comings as a man. I have never been so aware of my faults. Short temper, selfish, arrogant, close-minded. Everything has to coordinate with my idea of ideal reality and fitting a 12 year old into adult shoes is insane. My first major breakthrough came when my wife suggested I not yell and speak to him calmly without getting frustrated with his attitude. It was incredible! I actually accomplished something! Also, this conversation, and subsequent conversations, have opened the door to really feeling like a dad. I love my wife with intensity. I have devoted my life to her and, in turn, to the boys. They, however, are skeptical, at best, and when trust has broken down, it's really difficult to rebuild it with them. I know that they see through me. I know they see my flaws and shortcomings. I just don't know how to win them back. I'm skeptical, too. The oldest carries around a picture of his dad wherever he goes - even if it's only for a night. This makes me insecure. It's stupid, I'm supposed to be the strong one. Everyone tells me how brave I am for taking on this responsibility. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. The question I keep asking myself is: Would I have taken this on if I'd known how hard it would be? That's the million dollar question. Divorce is not an option, but if I were to do it all over again, I would deal with the boys in an entirely different way. First, I would get to know them and want to know them. Now, I know them and I want to love them. When something happens and my wife sees my eyes flash red, she tries to calm me down a bit before I go off on them. See, she wants them to grow out of her love for them. Her sense of responsibility comes out of her heart of caring that they grow up to be responsible, well-adjusted adults. Mine comes out of a sense of responsibility. I want them to be responsible, according to my perspective of responsibility. I want them to fashion themselves according to my expectations. I don't want to keep these expectations. I want to let them change and adapt with their personalities intact. I want them to learn what their strengths are. I want them to learn how to love a woman like I love their mom. That's the best example I have for them. I surely don't want them to learn how to love their kids from my example. I am, however, working on it and want to love them like a father should. I want them to grow up and be proud of me, too.
[more inside]
