Happy Father's Day

G'day,

Well it's Father's Day again.  I'm sitting here alone, well almost.  My 12 year old is on the computer.  The 18 and 15 year old lads are surfing and skating and my lovely wife and daughter are out shopping, buying nice food for a Father's Day dinner.  Father's Day is always tinged with sadness for me as I think of my little boy who died 16 yeas ago.  On days like these it feels like it happened yesterday.

Anyways, I have a confession to make:

I am not a good father.

There, I said it, and I feel better for it.  I'm like the person at AA getting up and saying, "My name is Geoff, I am an alcoholic."  It kind of feels good to admit the truth.

It's not always been this way.  I reckon when we started on this parenting journey I was pretty good at it.  In fact, I thought that I was going to be such a good dad that I would write books about how to be a good father, that people would travel from around the world to hear me speak.  Then the reality of raising children slapped me in the face like a cold, wet fish.

Now, I'm not being a naval gazing whiner looking for sympathy, for people to say , "Don't be so hard on yourself Geoff, I'm sure you're a great father."  Truth is, I'm not.  Don't get me wrong, I love my kids desperately, but I'm also human, and I make mistakes, heaps of them.

My dad is amazing.  He has overcome unbelievable odds in his life.  But he had his own demons to fight on his journey, and in spite of his love for me, he also made mistakes.  I can live with that, we've reconciled, we talk often, and he is bloody incredible.

But the harsh reality is, lots of men go to their graves believing that they are a complete and utter failure.  Most of them won't admit it, but they know it, trust me.  Steve Biddulph has some great stuff to say about this, and it was his book, "Manhood" that prompted me many years ago to approach my father and talk.  Now, almost 18 years later, I find myself approaching my own sons to "talk" about my failings and to seek their forgiveness.

We've had some tough stuff to deal with over the last several years.  Last year included my sister's husband dying and leaving her to raise three little girls on her own.  Every time I go and visit her and the girls I feel like someone reaches in to my chest and rips my heart out so I can't even begin to imagine how hard it is for her.  Not long after Alan's death my dad had a heart attack and barely pulled through.  My sister was almost devastated.  The day it happen she said , "I've just lost my husband, I'm not ready to lose my dad as well."  It was so difficult seeing her in so much pain.

A couple of weeks ago we copped another blow (I will spare you the gory details), and it felt like the straw that broke the camel's back.  I was overcome with grief and it was enough to have me seriously questioning my value as a both a husband and a father.  I seriously contemplated leaving Karen, honestly believing that her and the kids would actually be better off without me.  It wasn't so much the idea of running away, rather setting them free from the burden and failure that is me.

Fortunately, I didn't.  Initially I just crawled in to bed, had a sob, and went to sleep feeling completely and utterly despondent.  The next morning though, something clicked, I wanted to fight.  So I got up and decided to go for a run.  I went down to the beach and ran 10km up and down Nobby's Beach in Newcastle.  I deliberately ran along the shore so that I often got hit by waves coming in.  I saw it as a metaphor for life, that we get battered and beaten and we have two choices; 1) Fight, jump over those waves as they roll in, lift your legs higher, push harder, or 2) Let the waves take your legs out from under you and wash you away.

The ensuing couple of weeks have been hard.  My heart is still aching.  I still feel very sad at times.  But it didn't just end after the run.  I also made the choice to touch base with a mate, and be really honest.  I emailed him at first and dumped.  I figured he could choose to ignore the email, write me a scathing reply, or be willing to listen and talk.  I'm thankful he chose the latter option.  We got together, and over a couple of beers and some pub grub, we talked, brutally and honestly.  And guess what?  He's not a perfect father either, and he's made lots of mistakes.  I walked away feeling better as a man, somehow my vulnerability didn't leave me feeling pathetic and weak.

Check out this video clip from last year advertising the World Suicide Prevention Day:

So, on this day where a lot of men recognise we're not so perfect, my invitation, no my challenge to you, is to talk to someone if you're feeling not so good about yourself.  And if you're feeling great, find someone to listen to.  And if your dad failed you, talk to him.  Tell him that you have failed too, and that you're sorry.  If he's not around or he doesn't want to talk, write it all down, be brutally honest, then file it away somewhere or burn it, what ever makes you feel better.

And if you're a wife or a partner reading this, think about telling him how awesome he is.  Check out this amazing site where this woman invited people to join her in celebrating, "My Husband is Awesome" Day.

It's not all bad I should say.  This is just another step in this journey called life.  I'm sure all will turn out okay, actually I'm not sure, I hope and pray it will.  Maybe what I'm sure about is that somehow we'll get through, like we always have.

And hats off to my boys.  I have taken both the 18 year old and the 15 year old out for coffee (actually the 18 year old took me out for brekky this morning for Father's Day) and told them that I feel like I have failed them, and asked their forgiveness.  They both gave it freely, and to quote my 15 year old, "Dad, I don't think you're a shit dad, I think you're great."  They both admitted that there have been some hard times, that I have hurt them at times when my own pain spills over and attacks them, but they understand, they get it, and they are thankful that I've kept fighting and love them so much.  I'm really blessed to have them.  I suspect I'll have the same conversation with my 12 year old son and my 9 year old daughter one day.

In the end, I just reckon that life is too short.  I don't want to go to my grave feeling like a failure.  I want to go to my grave knowing that I blew it often, but that I had the guts to reconcile and that my kids were afforded the opportunity to forgive me, face to face, not by my graveside.

Well, time to go clean the BBQ.  The older boys are going to do dinner for the family on the BBQ and I'm even going to splurge and drop my vegetarian principles and have a big fat steak.  But I reckon being teenage boys they won't bother cleaning the BBQ, so I will.

Shalom,

Geoff

www.mindstrength.com.au
www.facebook.com/thishealthylife

This Way of Life........

I want to tell you about an amazing documentary that is screening on iView (the ABC TV online television show viewing site).

Now, it only runs for 2 more days, so if you don't want to waste time reading what I have to say, then go straight to iView and watch it.  Once you get to the iView website do the following:

1. Click the "All Programs" tab at the top
2. Clilck "Documentary" at the top of the top of the second column
3. Scroll down to the bottom left hand corner and click "This Way of Life"

I had a most interesting reaction to this documentary.  Firstly, I was cynical and thought the family somewhat lazy, unrealistic, pathetic even.  My next reaction was to get angry.  I got up, walked out and carried on for a bit before going to bed.  But I couldn't sleep.  I tossed and turned till 3am and then got up and meditated and reflected and tried to understand why it tapped into something, well, not really nice in me.  Later that day, I watched it again, determined to sit through the whole thing and see if I could better understand myself and maybe even learn something from it.  From my limited life experience, I know that when I react really strongly like that, it's usually because there's something that is confronting me that I need to deal with, even if I can't put my finger on it.

I heard recently that truth often follows this path:

1. Firstly, it’s met with mocking and cynicism
2. Followed on by violent opposition
3. And finally, acceptance

And thinking about it, that’s exactly what happened to me when I watched this.  So why did I react this way?

Firstly, I think I both admired and resented the main character in the documentary, the young dad to the five (by the end 6) kids, the husband that did most of the talking.  And to be honest, I think I felt quite insecure.  You see, I’ve always, always struggled to feel good about myself, to feel accepted, to believe that I am even vaguely likeable let alone loveable.  Often I don’t even feel good enough to hold my head high and call myself an even half decent man.  I’ve battled with depression and anxiety and terrible insecurities and I’ve allowed those things to shape me into a pretty horrible person in the past.

I looked at this man and wished I could be more like him, that I’d been more like him during the formative years of my marriage and of my kids growing up, particularly my two teenage boys.  I’ve often been driven by anxiety and insecurity and made so many poor decisions because of those and I know that I’ve damaged my kids as a result.  I think I just resented him for his love and patience and reflectiveness around parenting because he epitomized what I wished I’d been.

I also felt a great sense of sadness looking at his kids and the beautiful, free life that they are living.  You see, my years as a kid were not so great.  They are dotted with sexual abuse, horrific bullying, terrible insecurity and fear and feeling incredibly inferior as a son.  I don’t need to give you the gory details, but I will say that I have reconciled with my dad and he’s very forthcoming in saying that he is proud of me and I should add that the sexual abuse did not involve my immediate family.  I know you can’t live life regretting the past and ruminating, but I do feel extremely sad sometimes when I think of a childhood lost in many ways.

I also felt resentful of the freedom that he (the bloke in the doco) seems to have.  I feel quite trapped to be honest with you.  I mentioned already that I’ve made a lot of bad decisions over the years, and many of those were financial.  That meant that basically one day we woke up in so much debt that we almost went bankrupt (I feel very ashamed admitting that).  I have spent the better part of the last 4 years working 6 or 7 days a week, sometimes 15 even 20 days straight, trying to get out of debt.  I’ve often felt angry and trapped.  But I’m pleased to say that in less than 18 months we’ll be debt free and able to start all over again.  Watching the documentary made me really angry at myself for allowing us to get in to this situation.

I really admired their simple life.  Now I know that most of us wouldn’t choose to live like they are, but I really want more of that in my own life. I feel like we are so driven as a society to consume and be stimulated and I just don’t think that is good for us.  I know I’ve been sucked in to this horrible way of living myself (hence the debt) and I know it doesn’t bring any happiness.

I was with some mates at the pub recently and we were talking about mobile phone apps (we have this idea that we’re going to invent an amazing app and make squillions of dollars) and we noticed that each of our phones had pages of apps.  And I’ve noticed that most computer desktop screens are covered in all these icons.  And I think that’s a little representative of our lives; they’re cluttered.  Each little app in and of itself is not bad, but put them all together and we have these cluttered, over-stimulated lives.  I don’t want that anymore, I really don’t.

Another thing I realized is that I know that I’ve been sucked in to this idea of achievement and success and education, all to prove really that I am a valuable person.  Now there’s nothing wrong with any of that, but my motives have been all wrong.  Education, job promotions, “success” don’t count for much if I’m a useless dad and a pathetic husband.  I was more impressed with the caliber and integrity of the bloke in the documentary than most academics I’ve ever known in my life.  And when I think of the men that I look up to and learn from, I don’t look to any of them because of their education or job success, it’s because of their integrity and transparency, and humility.

Now, I don’t think I’ve done a good job at articulating why this impacted me so much but I hope you get the drift.  It reads a little like a big, fat, naval gazing whine, but I’ll tell you that I feel like a new man after having spent the time to really think this through.  I think, at 41, I’m finally discovering who I am and what I really want out of life.  In a nut shell, I want to stop living to work, I want to work to live and only do as much as I have to.  I want to connect, meaningfully connect with my wife, my kids, my extended family, my mates, their wives and kids (if they have them).  I want to connect with nature more (we have chooks and vege gardens and fruit trees already) by bush walking, wandering along the beach, building trust and faithfulness in my dog, watch the sunrise, and appreciate beauty.

And I want a simple life, free of the trappings of modern Western life.  I only want around me what I need and a few things that I want.  I want to stop being a part of this society that is driven by consumerism and greed.

And I feel like it’s happening, even in the last 48 hours.  I went to the Farmers Markets today with my wife and daughter.  We just enjoyed pottering around, and meeting interesting people and having meaningful conversations.  I felt like I was looking at the world with a fresh vision, like I’d just put on my first pair of glasses and for the first time I can really see what’s going on around me, and it’s bloody refreshing.

I hope you can watch the doco and learn at least something from it like I did.  If you don't get to watch it while it's online and free, go here and buy it, go on, take a risk, I dare you.

Cheers,

Geoff

Welcome

Hello and welcome to my personal blog.  Most likely you've come here via my business website (http://www.mindstrength.com.au/) so you know what to expect.  If not, here's the blurb that's on my webpage:

"You are about to launch yourself into my personal blog so I should give you a quick warning.

I've agonised for a long time about where to draw the line between being professional and personal with my training.  It's rarely appropriate to self-disclose really personal stuff in a teaching setting.

But, when I think about the men in my life who have been and are mentors to me, there are some qualities about them that always stand out; humilty, transperancy, honesty, gratitude, forgiveness and patience, just to name a few.

So, I want to be able to offer something of a more personal nature to people, but only if they choose to join me on this journey.  There's a risk in doing this, it makes me vulnerable and open to criticism and on the off chance that the occassional person may put me up on a pedastal (which is somewhat misguided I think) I may fall from grace and disappointent them.  But I'm willing to take that chance.

Not only am I personal in this blog, but I'll float some more radical, outside of the box ideas as food for thought."

So, I hope you enjoy this jounrey with me.  I hope it helps you to live better, to know and understand yourself better, and to be a better person to the people around you that love and care for you.

Cheers,

Geoff