THE VOID
Void (adj.) – not valid or legally binding; completely empty.
Lately, the parental consumption has rattled me to my core. Especially as it relates to my son. Actually, it is affecting every aspect of my life if I’m being 100% honest. I’ve spent several years contemplating my circumstance, but with little resolve as to how to best maneuver it for the next 14 years of my son’s life.
The truth of the matter is this: I detest my son’s biological father.
I’ve been reluctant about writing about this for numerous reasons. Mainly because I believe some things should remain private. What I’ve grown to realize is that my privacy has also been an act of observation when I am questioned about my son’s biological father. It’s really not that private at all, and people can lead themselves to the accurate conclusions. What I’ve also realized about myself is that unless I’m writing, I’m not healing. And if I’m not healing, I’m not growing. And without growth there is no movement forward with my life. And without movement forward, I feel like I’m suffocating which isn’t good for anyone around me. Through many private conversations with close friends, family, therapists, and those who are in the same ship as I am (i.e. navigating parenting without an active co-parent post-divorce) I’ve found that I’m not far off base in my thought processes as to what angers me, why it angers me, and the things I should be doing to work through it.
The other truth of the matter is this: I don’t know how to best move forward from the anger I carry for my son.
I’ve been fortunate to be surrounded by people who love my son as if he is a part of their family. I don’t worry about the life I am building around him and the people I introduce to his life because they are all wonderful people. They serve a purpose in his life and enrich his life. And especially the past year and a half with The Bearded Hippie. While my relationship with The Beard has come with its own set of issues, it has opened the flood gate for my son as to what having a father and active parent in his life truly means. He’s present. He does the hard work. He provides the foundation. He gives emotional support. He pushes him to be better. He offers his unconditional love. He is teaching him to grow into a self-respecting, kind person through action: what it means to be a man, father, partner, and friend. Every opportunity he has to offer guidance or connectivity with my son, he embraces without question. It’s exactly the dynamic I had hoped my ex-husband would offer his own flesh and blood. It is by far the greatest gift I could have received in this life to know someone capable and willing to offer himself to my son. It’s also come with a host of fury I never would have anticipated.
Yes. My own personal, self-inflicted rage. And here is why…
The bar on fatherhood was set high from the time I was born. I am incredibly blessed with a loving father. A man of high integrity and work-ethic. A man with an impenetrable character. A man I watched “suck it up” in the hardest of times and always put his family first, regardless of the downside implication it would have on him and his own needs/wants. The most selfless human being I’ve ever been privileged enough to know in this life. He is and will always be the rock and foundation on how I operate and drive my own life. He instilled in me what it means to be loyal, live by my word, and the power of honoring your commitments. I haven’t always gotten these qualities as right as my father would have liked, but every year I grow I aim higher to be the kind of person my father has been to me. And I do believe he would tell anyone he’s proud of me, too.
As a mother, I know I am doing everything possible to ensure my son’s life is the highest priority. I am present, even when I feel like my personality, insecurities, and inadequacies can’t support it—I push through because of the affects it has on my son. I see joy in my presence and engagement with him. He gains stability through my actions and choices. He is a happy, spirited child because of the sacrifices I make to ensure he can be happy and spirited and feel safe. At times my relationship with my son is taxing: he’s very intelligent, hard-headed, and independent. (Yes, he comes by it honest through watching me in my own life). But as I’ve considered what watching my father did for me when I was growing up, I always keep his examples front of mind because I believe that as long as my son is watching me, he, too, will grow into a person he can be proud of. While I am proud of the paths I’ve taken in life and the moral compass by which I choose to live, I know that I can be proud of those things BECAUSE of my father.
I can’t and won’t make that statement for my son.
For all of the positives I can identify in my life and my relationships with those around me, the one area in which I continue to struggle is finding a way to navigate a selfish, manipulative, narcissistic existence with someone who I chose to procreate with. Yes, I chose my son’s biological father. I continued to choose him even when I knew it was toxic to my well-being. I chose to believe he was capable of being a father. I chose to believe he would change. And worst of all, I chose to believe his lies of how he was serving as a “father” to his son and his daughter. And to a degree, until present day, I have chosen to believe he will do what he says he will do and one day return to amend his poor choice to abandon BOTH of his children.
Except he’s not. He won’t. He’s incapable. And unless he CHOOSES to change, he will always be absent in every way possible. Except financially—I’ll give him the “required” credit for that part. But even that comes with an argument as to how he’s only going to do what he’s required to do (even though a deviation was made at the time of divorce), or I’m responsible for everything outside of our son’s “regularly scheduled deposits” twice a month. Believe me: I’ve heard it all relative to money. And one would think that if you want to wear the crown of father, you would at least do the one thing you are capable of doing and send more than the required minimum to ensure your son is able to live his best life. But reality is that would mean additional sacrifice. And a narcissist is only capable of serving themselves.
However, the real, non-bitter truth is that no amount of money will ever be good enough for what my son will deal with later in life as a result of his biological father’s absence. His intermittent parenting. His excuses as to why he can’t call regularly. Why he can’t come visit regularly. Why overseas compensation is more important than building a life with him. Why he can’t be present at tee ball games or other activities. Why he never drops him off at school or picks him up. Why he doesn’t get to visit him every other weekend like other kids who are in a separated parent lifestyle. Why he doesn’t know his favorite things. Why he doesn’t know what scares him. Why he doesn’t understand his feelings. Why the only reason he knows anything at all about him is because his mommy tells him.
The list is endless. And my deepest wish is one day he quits paying me for his son’s benefit. Because then, and only then, do I have a chance to save my son from him. For all of the negative publicity women receive about being money-hungry, soul-sucking individuals when going through a divorce with children, I am proud to own that I was not and will never be one of them. Because it isn’t about the money when you’re in the shoes I am walking in when raising a child 336 days per year so your son’s biological father can meet his tax-exemption for tax-free income. One could argue that he’s at least paying me, and that’s more than what some mothers receive. Yes, that is a true statement. I’m lucky he remembers his son twice a month so his passport can’t be frozen to reenter the country on the 15 days a year he decides to grace his son with his presence (insert eye roll).
But I’m here to offer this to the those who feel this is enough: it is and will never be enough when you’ve had examples in your life and your own son’s life who defy monetary contribution. The love my son feels from my father and his father-figures is something on which a monetary value could never be assigned. They do things that aren’t asked or required. They offer a part of themselves in exchange for my son’s smile, his happiness, and his growth as a human being. They are, without question, the best gifts my son could receive. I only hope that my contributions as my son’s mother are enough and the contributions of the generous souls around him are enough to help him navigate his imminent “daddy issues” he will have as an adult. Because the certainty is there is nothing more I can do to fill the void my son will one day realize when it comes to his biological father. I can only hope that the tools he is receiving allow him to navigate the void and grow up with the strength that he is not a failure for his father abandoning him physically and emotionally.
This is the burden I carry—my son’s burden. It’s the hardest and most challenging position I’ve ever faced. No amount of money, time, or energy to remain positive eases the ache I feel for my son. And while I realize it’s not my burden to carry, knowing the person I love more than my own life has to face this one day is harrowing. No amount of time could have prepared me for the burning rage I would feel every day I wake up and realize it over and over again. And while some tell me I look at it all wrong, unless you’ve walked in the shoes of this life it’s hard to render an opinion on how to best face it. Some days I’m fine. I can remove myself from the realization and march forward knowing I’m confident and my son is happy and healthy and I am the sole-contributor of that. Yes, I get all of it with my son and I wouldn’t change a thing. Other days, I am incited with so much wrath for the façade his biological father paints of how he’s a budding example of being a father that I begin to doubt my own abilities as his mother.
Actions speak louder than words. His biological father is a wordsmith. And a damn good one. A salesman to the end. The longer he’s gone the more I see though his empty words, as does everyone who knows him. And maybe time is the only way I have to heal and learn to let go of the anger. Rarely do I ever have to say anything about him for others to see his shortcomings and failures in the one job he has the ability to control. His actions have never and nor will they ever matter because frankly, my son deserves more. Every child deserves active parents; otherwise you’re nothing more than a womb or sperm donor to a child.
So, if you’ve read this far, this my reflection to consider:
Children don’t choose their parents. Parenting is an active choice: the good, the bad, the painful, the ugly, the beauty, the sacrifices, and all of the feels. In honor of those who are real parents, my deepest respects offered and always remember you’re enough. There is no one size fits all, and there is no such thing as perfect. Fail every day. Let your children learn about your strengths as well as your weaknesses—it builds character. They know you love them, so keep choosing tomorrow even when you feel like you can’t make it to tomorrow. They will all grow up with their own issues regardless of what you do. But always lead with love and character—time will take care of the rest.
- BWT
“Absence and death are the same - only that in death there is no suffering.”