It feels weird for me to do a “Happy Father’s Day insert smileys and exclamation points here” post. The man that fathered me has been dead a long time and when he was around nothing good came of it. The word “father” is very negatively charged in my mind and I try to avoid it as much as possible. So there is no denying that there is an empty place where I believe a father is supposed to be. No one will ever fill it. It’s an uninhabitable, rotting, putrid hole that will never disappear. However, I do believe that this hole can continue to shrink as I mature. When I was 10 years old my mom met my stepdad. Two years later all of us moved into a new house in a new town. Thus, I lived with my stepdad in the house throughout middle and high school. There were a lot of battles. I was wrestling with things that I didn’t give him a chance to understand. Our personalities clashed. It was sometimes unbearable to be in the same room. But now that I don’t see him that often I can appreciate him more. There were times when I was a kid that things were fun. Even if I didn’t believe it, he was always there for me. He stepped into a role voluntarily and never made me feel like he regretted it. So I call him “my stepdad” to most people, and then by his first name to people I know well. I call him by his first name to his face. I just can’t call someone dad or (even harder) father. I am not sure why, it just makes me unbearably anxious like merely saying the word would cause my organs to explode and chunks of my flesh slap up against the walls. I called my stepdad for Father’s Day this morning because I did want to thank him for everything that he did for me as a kid and everything he continues to do for my mom. He is a person I respect and care about. We seldom have the same opinion and we know how to push each other’s buttons, but ultimately we are family. Happy Father’s Day John!

It feels weird for me to do a “Happy Father’s Day insert smileys and exclamation points here” post. The man that fathered me has been dead a long time and when he was around nothing good came of it. The word “father” is very negatively charged in my mind and I try to avoid it as much as possible.

So there is no denying that there is an empty place where I believe a father is supposed to be. No one will ever fill it. It’s an uninhabitable, rotting, putrid hole that will never disappear. However, I do believe that this hole can continue to shrink as I mature.

When I was 10 years old my mom met my stepdad. Two years later all of us moved into a new house in a new town. Thus, I lived with my stepdad in the house throughout middle and high school.

There were a lot of battles. I was wrestling with things that I didn’t give him a chance to understand. Our personalities clashed. It was sometimes unbearable to be in the same room.

But now that I don’t see him that often I can appreciate him more. There were times when I was a kid that things were fun. Even if I didn’t believe it, he was always there for me. He stepped into a role voluntarily and never made me feel like he regretted it.

So I call him “my stepdad” to most people, and then by his first name to people I know well. I call him by his first name to his face. I just can’t call someone dad or (even harder) father. I am not sure why, it just makes me unbearably anxious like merely saying the word would cause my organs to explode and chunks of my flesh slap up against the walls.

I called my stepdad for Father’s Day this morning because I did want to thank him for everything that he did for me as a kid and everything he continues to do for my mom. He is a person I respect and care about. We seldom have the same opinion and we know how to push each other’s buttons, but ultimately we are family.

Happy Father’s Day John!