My Father was a troubled person, who lived with his own demons and struggled in ways I probably don’t understand. Nevertheless, while his intentions were always good, his parenting skills were generally bad. I don’t blame him for who he was or how he lived his life, but I’m disappointed in some of the things he “taught” me as a child.

The first lesson was that one’s problems needed to be hidden, and that to expose a personal flaw was to be “weak.” A “real” grown up wouldn’t experience emotional pain, or self-doubt or personal crisis. A “real” man would never let on that he was sorrowful, worried, or scared.

The next lesson that I learned, which was a corollary to the first, was that perfection was something to be striven for at all times. Being perfect was a requirement of being good, and the more you strayed from being good, the more effort you needed to put into being even more perfect.

Lastly – and I think most damaging – was that one’s emotional life had to be lived in isolation. There was no asking for support, no baring of one’s soul, no search for group engagement. Anything that a person (especially a “man”) had feelings about was something that had to be shut up tight and put away in a box.

Sad, really.

The reason I’m thinking about this tonight is that I had a really shitty day at work. After venting my frustrations and anger to a Richard for 15 minutes (who was calm and reassuring), I came home from work, crawled into bed and bawled my eyes out for a half hour. Devin, bless his heart, crawled into bed with me, held on to me and kept saying all the nice comforting things one wants to hear when wallowing in self-pity.

So there you have it. I’m imperfect, I don’t hide my pain, and I need support.

Actually, I feel sorry for how my Dad lived his life. I’m pretty certain he FELT a lot of the things that I feel in my life, but his own prejudices about what he was supposed to feel barred him from having any outlets to vent his frustrations. I have no doubt his alcoholism was a way of dealing with the emotional pain in his life that he just couldn’t admit to.

It interesting – my day hasn’t exactly improved and I’m still not pleased with the situation at work, but having had the opportunity to put it all out there, having had the people around me who support and love me, and having allowed myself to feel sad and upset, I think I’m better off. It sure beats drowning my sorrow in beer.

Or oreos.