As a father, I’ve taken more naturally to supporting our three young children as they look outward. I love nothing more than to adventure with them, throwing them higher into the air than their mum would ever dare, and taking them deeper into the ocean than they’ve ever been. I love to delight with them in the daring and the dangerous.
This has been my “natural role”. I’ve been happy to take this on. When it came to displays of difficult emotions, however, I was happier to leave mum to deal with those. Not only that, but I struggled to tolerate them and often felt the kids were being indulged and needed to toughen-up. When big emotions reigned, my default was to push them away and judge them as ‘spoilt’ or unreasonable, causing my young kids to scream or whine all the louder.
Eventually - through a series of bad choices to self-protect from my own painful feelings - I hit rock-bottom. It was then that I began to realise how unavailable I had been to my children, even unsafe, and by extension I’d been unavailable to support my wife. Through a lot of hard work in therapy and reflection, I was eventually able to recognise that it wasn’t my children who couldn’t cope and needed help – it was me.
One of the relationships that most suffered as a result of my intimacy struggles was my relationship with my eldest daughter. My inability to be emotionally present left her feeling rejected, abandoned, unsafe and alone with her feelings. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to manage my irritation or discomfort – like the canary in the mine - she could pick it up a mile away. So in the moments she needed me, when her little world was uncertain, she would literally shut the door on me and push me away.
Reflecting back on the early years with my kids, and what I modelled in terms of discomfort with difficult feelings, the message they received was threefold:
1. Feelings are scary & unmanageable
2. Intense emotions are not allowed
3. Dad's not available when I'm struggling
Thankfully - it’s never too late to change. And once we change, it takes even less time for our children to re-learn, and to change themselves. I’ve been in therapy for two and half years now, and I’m gradually learning to identify and be okay with my own feelings (other tools like journaling, meditation and time alone on the trails have helped!). I have been able to be more available, present and in tune with my children’s feelings. I am finally learning to be the safe pair of hands that they need me to be.
The result of my own healing is a deeper, more intimate and far more beautiful relationship with each of my children than I’d ever known possible. My eldest daughter has begun to trust that I am safe. She no longer shuts the door on me. In fact, when she’s frightened or struggling she calls for me. When we sit at the dinner table, she shuffles over and snuggles into my lap. When I say goodnight to her, she can now stare deeply into my eyes knowing I am there and I am not afraid.
My son too is learning that it’s okay for us guys to talk about our feelings, and that its okay for us to be sensitive. My youngest, who we joke was born ‘angry’, has learned to yield more easily to sadness. Most importantly, my wife feels like she has a present and safe partner, for the first time in years.
My kids still look to me for a wrestle or a pillow fight. They still know they can count on me for a stupid dad joke or a hairy climb up the mountain. But now they also know that they can come to me with their worries and their fears. And I love being available to welcome them, to hold them and be with them when they’re feeling alone and struggling. For me, this is a whole new brave, and the bonds being forged will survive long after all the memories of daring adventures have faded away.