From the Archives: How Release, Understanding, and Forgiveness shaped my Mental Health and Well-Being (Part Dad)

If Only I had Moments like this with my Father...But I didn't. Time to Release the Beef that's held me back.

WRITEntangled Note: With Father's Day on the horizon as of this writing, its only fitting that I share my thoughts on my Father. This Blog, originally titled Releasing Resentment: My Journey to Understanding and Forgiveness (Part Dad) serves as the swan song for the resentment I held for him growing up, without understanding what he went through. This was the first of a two-part series where I put my grievances out on both my parents for their roles in my growing up and adult life. How I was raised in a broken NYC home deeply influenced and affected my mental health, well-being, and how I've handled my interpersonal relationships.

This is a deep look into my childhood and the woes my family faced growing up. If you're from NYC in the 90s, or grew up in a broken home, this will slap for you.

I wonder what life could have been if my father were truly present. Know that he wrestled with a lot, as I'm sure a lot of men do, often in their vices and in silence.

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As I sit here after a long day of juggling responsibilities like buying snacks for the many mouths in my household, it reminds me of one of the grand moments in a lot of adults' lives: PARENTHOOD. Those of you that are fortunate to have children, do you remember the moment you found out that you were about to take the Master Certification Course of LIFE? Oh yes, that moment of revelation is something to behold.

Some of you may have been flooded with joy! You get to have a mini you in your life, soaking in everything that is you. They mimic your every move, including the questionable and ratchet ones and then shrug their shoulders when you try to correct them.

The questions of “Daddy what are you doing?” or “Why do I have to do this Mommy?”  

When our children are born and grow, we carefully navigate the ups and downs on eggshells hoping to have honor roll students that go on to become world leaders and model citizens, all while doing all the other adult stuff like paying bills and balancing checkbooks.

But there is something in the day to day life of child raising that we often overlook, and that is the effect of our own parents on our lives and how we parent. For me, I found out later in life that I had some baggage I had to let go of, in the form of Parent Beefs.

Little did I know, when I started living on my own, resentment and judgement lodged into my subconscious mind that didn’t really start showing until I became a parent. I want to share what those resentments are, and how I have, or plan to bury the hatchet to live free of family conflict. We'll start with the sins of my father. 

Dad: Trauma and Abandonment (Under the Influence)

Being a father in the New York City streets in the 80s and 90s pretty much was a guarantee that you would leave your family for the streets.

You would succumb to drugs, alcohol, prostitution, gang violence, jail time, death, or all of the above! My Father had a not so stable childhood growing up with his siblings.  He grew up in two broken homes, to parents that were drastically different in parenting styles and how they lived their lives. Because my Father was exiled by my religiously inclined Grandfather (Love you Grandpa…Power in Rest), he had to live with my biological Grandmother, who was surrounded by family members that were users and manipulators.

My Father was now a part of that life with his brothers. My Father was a very talented man: A musician in the making with a keen ear for tunes, one hell of a craftsman and an artist like his father before him, and quite the mechanic. My Dad could fix anything! But he could not fix the internal struggles he was having as a man and as a father. He did not have the ability at the time to be fully present with his family who desperately needed his leadership and razor sharp focus on his purpose because he was struggling to cope internally with his trauma from rejection, manipulation tactics from his family, and his easy transition into alcohol and drug use.

His coping and being out with his friends became more important than the well being of his family, or so my Mom led my brother and I believe. My Dad abandoned us for some pleasure to help him neutralize the pain and anguish he felt inside his own mind, heart, and soul. There was no help for him that he would even be willing to take.

As heartbreaking as that reality was for him, his vices carried more weight, and so he would later make the choice to stay away from home. My Mom took that it was time to end the marriage and protect her sons. She quickly filed for divorce and had to get into the workforce to provide for us, while my father did what he could to nullify the pain of his trauma and now failures as a man, a husband, and a Father. Shortly after the divorce, tragedy struck my Mom , brother, and I as a fire forced us into homelessness. The rest was history.

An opportunity for Release, Understanding, and Forgiveness Across Seas 

Fast forward to 2008. I was now in the Army, stationed in Germany with 1st Battalion, 4th Infantry Regiment. I can’t remember exactly how I was able to get into contact with my Father but I did. I wanted to get down to the bottom of what happened because I felt like I wanted to hear both sides of the story. When we were able to speak on Skype, I was so calm that it surprised me. He sounded exactly the same.

I asked him what happened between him and Mom and why he left us. His answer was surprising, but it was an honorable sacrifice that only I would be able to accept. My Father left because he was in a bad place, and he did not want to stay there and have my Brother and I see how he was and follow his poor example. A sense of guilt led him to leave because he felt stuck. He didn’t know where to turn or what to do. He felt like a failure. I could hear in his voice that it was hard to admit his faults, but he did. I told my Father that I understood and that I loved him. I was glad that he was okay and that we had a chance to speak after all these years. From that day on, we spoke probably about 10 times before we lost contact again.

Residual Effects on My Mental Health and Well-being

I've navigated intimate relationships under the influence of an anxious attachment style. My father leaving created this narrative of having the need to counteract what he did by vowing to always being there for my partner.

In committing to this narrative, I was prone to overcompensating for his absence in order to say I am being the man, partner, father that he wasn’t. It fed my co-dependency, feeling the need to be extra present and please my partner. When that didn’t work, it made me feel like I was inadequate.

Another effect that my Father imposed on my subconscious was the distance from my children with interaction and lack confident leadership and direction. I am present, but only but so much because at times I feel uncertain in where or how to engage, and that is something I am actively working on in therapy. My Father’s disappearance led to me not having a solid foundation on what being a good-nature black man was supposed to look like. My brother had to pick up the responsibility and he was still a teenager himself, on his way out the door for the military and later college (his trauma from the separation and being raised by a single mother was very different from mine).

My Grandfather, as I mentioned earlier, was a religious man, gifted in storytelling, art, and music (my father was indeed his son). I would rather enjoy hearing his oratory skills kick in whenever he would share a story from real life or from the Bible, even though Christianity and I have a tricky relationship. But I felt like as I grew up to become an adult I didn’t have manly examples that my other-racial counterparts would have, so I had to join the military to start to forge a masculine style on my own.

I would eventually come across mentors and role models I could emulate, but as a boy, it would have been much more beneficial and would have molded me to, perhaps be a better equipped Father to my own children.

Lastly, the disappearance of my father showed me that I too have a lot of talents that I have not put to use to fully express myself and help other people learn more about themselves. Thankfully I am starting to break the mold while fighting against years of thick impediments in my mind such as fear of inadequacy, the future, the unknown, success, and failure. I am willing to take the fight to my limiting beliefs that I am not a good enough writer, that people will not appreciate my view on things or my stories, that I am not a good enough lover to inspire hope and love in any intimate relationship I'm in.

Even more so ironic, maybe my Mom was traumatized knowing that my Father had all these gifts and abilities and didn’t apply himself, and she projected those fears and concerns on me because I exhibited some of those same qualities he had. On that note, I'll leave you here with all of this and let it cook in your mind. Next up, Part Mom. 

To those of you that had to grow up without a Father, or father figure in your life:

What are some of the challenges you had to face?

What did you struggle to navigate through?

How did you muster the will to build yourself in the absence of that prominent male figure?

What advice would you give to someone sharing such an experience with you?

Hit me up in the comments. I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback.

Until the next one my people. Stay #WRITEntangled