In the latest episode of Fatherhood Wide Open with father and blogger Adam Rust we discuss the idea; Does Fatherhood Make Us Better Men? I posed this question after reading his article in response to a Time story about couples purposefully choosing to abandon parenthood, opting instead to luxuriate in the carefree waters of a D.I.N.K. lifestyle – Dual Income No Kids.
As the cultural war on marriage continues, barrages of white-hot contempt are released with every new celebrity divorce and Beltway sex scandal. Yet the critics of marriage, those considering it a biological illusion and social imposition because 50% end in failure, don’t take their argument to its obvious and tragic conclusion. While many sociologists and jilted spouses point to prairie voles and your shitzu for evidence that humans aren’t wired for lifelong faithfulness and to think otherwise is ignoring the obvious, they stop short of admitting that we’re little more than highly evolved sluts.
I’m beside myself with anger, frustration and fear. My ex was an abusive man – emotionally, verbally, physically, and financially ruined both our one son and myself. The courts deemed him unfit to see his child without supervision. Eventually, he gave it up, never paid a nickel in support and signed as not wanting visitation with our son. This was 6 years ago, my son is now 16, and his father found him on Facebook, contacted him, and 6 weeks later my son is seeing him, working part time with him, happy as ever. He says ‘the past is the past’ and I should be happy for him, that he has his dad is back. My boy was mentally and physically hurt by him and now he’s superdad? I have medical files that I never want my boy to see because it would scar him knowing what his father did to me. But a small part of me feels that even if he knew what his father really is, it still wouldn’t make a difference. I fear for my boy’s welfare and future and I’m more fearful that my anger and feelings of betrayal by my son will drive him away. I’ve been the parent all these years and now I’m the selfish one who won’t understand a boy’s need to be with his biological father. He has a wonderful ’stepdad’ who adores my boy and vice versa but he’s not enough. I see my son going down the wrong road already. It’s like watching your child running towards the edge of a cliff, holding scissors while texting. Why do some need the attention and affirmation that they are wanted even from someone so worthless? I’m overwhelmed with pain and sadness at watching my son turn into his father. I want to throw up all the time. Other than chaining my son to his bed, any advice you could offer would be appreciated. – Desperate mom
There are several characteristics that distinguish my relationship with the Queen from every other – including my former marriage. The most significant of these is an awareness to the role I play in it.
One of my more insidious character faults is a knack for holding grudges. Revenge isn’t necessarily my taste; I’m far too insecure for such defiance. Strategic spite is more my flavor. Instead of removing your eye I prefer to irritate it; being diplomatically busy, acting a jerk at the most inopportune time, conveniently forgetting every Sunday school lesson learned. Nor do I allow these hard feelings to run empty; they stay topped off by random internal monologues, tongue-lashings that leave you lying prostrate at my feet begging for forgiveness. I get a sadistic satisfaction in imagining my enemies groveling for mercy.
As a scorned husband and single father I know a thing or two about forgiveness, or at least what it’s like not to forgive; and the fact that society eagerly supports my bitterness for being cheated on doesn’t help. It seems that any attempt to absolve an adulterer results in equally white-hot contempt for the one doing the absolving.
Turning the other cheek is great advice but infuriating to receive. I’ve always found it convenient that those who preach forgiveness loudest seem to be the ones whose most heinous slight was getting cut off in traffic. But regardless of that dichotomy, deep down we know that holding a grudge is petty, immature and forgiveness of another represents the very best in each of us. And when forgiveness is withheld that’s the ugly side showing up – and we inherently know it.
Mercy, forgiveness, charity, whatever you choose to call it is fine with me so long as that person meets my overtly narcissistic forgiveness requirements which include a face full of tears, confession that they have wronged me, and a willingness to do whatever necessary to be back into my good graces. In such rare cases I am normally very benevelont. But what if the other person says nothing? What of the spouse who never admits they’re wrong? How do we forgive someone who fails, or simply refuses, to confess they have hurt us? And better still, in such cases is forgiveness even necessary? Are we still to forgive when no one apologizes?
This was the one problem I had struggled with more than any other in the years after my divorce. How to bring myself to forgive the person who wrecked a marriage and sacrificed a family on the altar of her own vanity? How to forgive her when after all that time she never once admitted she did anything wrong? Many are tempted to ask the question, why bother? Why offer the olive branch at all? There is an answer; it isn’t easy to accept.
I can never grow beyond my level of hatred.
What I mean is that so long as I have feelings of animosity, anger, and revenge against her I can never grow beyond that level of person. My maturity will be stifled because any buds of personal growth will eventually be strangled by the weeds of resentment. Compassion is forged and my words will be tainted with hypocrisy. How can I genuinely be more sensitive and sympathetic or rightly teach my children to forgive others or hope the Queen will overlook my own failures if I’m unwilling to offer my ex wife the same? And what does all of that say about my future happiness if I’m hell bent on clinging to the past?
There have been countless articles and books written on forgiveness offering up a play by play on the how, why, and benefits of doing so. But with all of them I was left with the same feeling– like a doormat trampled upon. This is due in part to the Hollywood idea that forgiveness is only accomplished if vengeance is satisfied, so letting someone ‘off the hook’ is a sign of weakness. In other words I always saw forgiveness as giving something that wasn’t deserved, like paying an employee for a job never performed.
And there lied the nitty-gritty of my struggle – forgiving someone without them asking for it. I had convinced myself that until she acknowledged her mistake and asked for my forgiveness I had a righteous claim to my indignation. The most fatal of Solomon’s deadly sins – pride- simply wouldn’t allow me to do otherwise. But I wasn’t all too eager to do away with this belief anyway; it provided me adequate justification for my resentment. As long as she refused to admit her fault, I had tenable grounds to revel in my disdain.
There’s only one problem in that way of thinking – it’s unsustainable. In time or through circumstance we all must come to deal with that tension. For me, being a father eventually forced the issue. I realized I could never be the man my children could be proud of so long as I held this anger towards their mother. But how could I forgive her if she acted as if she did nothing wrong?
This all came to a head for me in a recent conversation with a mentor. During one of our monthly conversations, he asked if I had completely forgiven my ex-wife. Apparently my canned answer wasn’t convincing. So I asked how do we forgive someone who hasn’t asked for it. His wisdom was as eye opening as it was brief, ‘forgiveness isn’t about her, it’s about you’.
He went on to explain that forgiving another person, whether they are sorry or not, boils down to simple choice. The feelings that prevent us from forgiving are ours alone, the other person may have caused them but we keep them alive. That might make us feel better since we get to validate our bitterness while using someone else as a scapegoat, but in the end we are the ones who suffer the most, we are the ones who experience the feelings. And that was his point, if we are choosing to hang onto these feelings we can just as easily choose to let them go. That’s why my friend said forgiveness is about us, we are the ones who reap the greatest benefit.
If my friend is right, and I believe he is, this takes how most see forgiveness, especially those in a divorce, and turns it on its head. Imagine how much better co-parents we become and how better off those children would be if every divorced parent simply chose to forgive the ex who wronged them – all while expecting nothing in return?
This isn’t to say any of this is easy. I haven’t completely made it there yet, but if I can hold fast to this idea that forgiveness is ultimately about me and all I need is to give up control of those feelings then I believe I’m closer now than I’ve ever been.
There isn’t a great deal I remember from my wedding. The ceremony was held at a quaint hotel in Central Jersey and included an open bar, gourmet menu, adequate DJ, and a hundred or so family and close friends. The clergy was a gay Greenwich Village therapist who moonlighted as a Rabbi. We had hoped for an outdoor ceremony but Mother Nature felt otherwise. They say rain on a wedding day is good luck – whatever.
I lost my virginity at nineteen. By modern standards that’s disturbingly puritanical. It’s even more alarming when one considers that my sexual education was a fifteen-minute film during the 7th grade featuring animated penises and a cartoon vagina. This speedy entrance is nothing I’m overly ashamed of though I don’t shout it from the church rafters; but unlike many parents, if my kids ever ask, I wouldn’t lie by offering up some Leave it to Beaver fantasy that gives the impression I was a chaste saint until I met their mom. It’s through acknowledging our mistakes that we can have the most profound impact on our children.