What I want my sons to know about growing up as a man.
I am a little late to the punch on this one given #Manweek was last week but this post has been in draft since then and has been eating away at me. I first read Mark Pollard’s entry “Why some men are so lost“, and subsequently learned more about the program and read a bunch more blogs. Visit Mark’s post for more links, and the Reachout Blog.
I have two sons, 11 and 13. I love them dearly and I know they are already going through a raft of things that I can only observe. Can me sharing help them, I hope so, although I sense it may help me more. To put this in context, my business sponsors charities or organisations that work with kids because I realise what impact a small thing can have, it is an area I care about, and I coach young men in sport because I know how much influence coaches had on me even though I never expressed it at the time or even realised it. I also understand partly the aspects of sport that can help boys / men, even when I wasn’t the stereotypical bloke when I grew up. But more importantly Man Week got me thinking about me and my boys a lot more.
What sort of men would I want them to be? To be honest I can’t be exact, I cannot draw a blueprint for them, that wouldn’t work. I know I want them to be beautiful human beings. And so far they are, or definitely seem to be that. I want them to care for the lives of all, including themselves, and that they only promote good in the world. I want them to undo all harm they might create and learn from it, and to be honest and true to themselves, as I believe if they do then no real harm can come of them or from them. I want them to live. To really live.
I wonder whether I need to be tougher or softer. Should I prepare them to be like the world is today or what I want it to be, or is my role purely to just be there? Should I even try to think about how they should be when it is likely their destiny may already be made for them?
Do they need to know about how I felt when I was a teenager and the despair that ran through my veins? The complete isolation for no reason (it seems I was not alone); I came from a good family, a ‘normal family’. Why then did I wish to be dead some days, why did I feel so odd, so weird and lost in the world? Why did I run away overseas traveling when everything behind me seemed so normal, why did I want to escape normality and be different (visually and in thought), when ultimately I ended up so normal.
I wasn’t normal – not to me anyway. I didn’t feel normal. I felt different. I didn’t like where I was. I couldn’t find anything wrong with where I was, I just didn’t want to be there. In a room full of friends I felt like a stranger. Some days I still do. How do I make sense of that for them? No one made sense of it for me, is it something you just need to go through? I wasn’t challenged by great hardships, abuse or deprivation of essentials. I had a good upbringing which makes it even harder to understand why I felt how I did at times. I almost felt guilty for feeling like I did, like I had no right.
Some days I loved to be in a sporting team and being a champion athlete, it fitted the culture of the day, and then I would turn from it and do all I could to be everything but that. Other times I wanted to be the complete opposite but felt stuck in roles made for me but seemingly not by me.
How do you really explain that inside your head and body things rage a war for which there is no victor. That there is no right and wrong way to think about what is happening inside, only what you do with it that has to be managed. That fitting in to society is fine as long as you don’t become lost within it. That being different is actually an asset. Just that early institutions (school etc) don’t recognise it.
What sort of man do my boys see me as?
Now they see me being the Dad man and the boss man, and the coach man. They see me as a man of cuddles, a man who gets grumpy and yells. They wonder why I stay up all night worrying about making sure my business is still running and why I can’t stay home with them this holiday. They see my inner spark dulled by stress and worry and other times alight with huge intensity when inspiration hits, and I forget to be there for their needs. They see me awake all night with them when they are sick, or arguing with their mother over silly stuff when we have all been up all night. Do they feel guilty when they shouldn’t? Do they know they are the centre of our beings? Or do they sometimes take it inside and process it unnecessarily personally. Do they mistake words said without thinking by me in the wrong way.
Do they see me as the teenager who never quite processed everything that happened, but made some compensations for it? Do they see me as wounded a little by events that happened, and as someone who wishes better for them?
Do the wiser words I tell them reach down deep where their worries are?
That is the man I want to be. I want to matter to their life so that the bumpy road they encounter has a shock absorber. I want to fill some of that space where men did in my life. Men who helped me get through.
There were men, my father at times, teachers, bosses, friends that said just the right thing, sometimes exactly the wrong thing. There were all the types of men, staunch stoic types, serious unforgiving types, thick and rough, violent, soft, quiet, gay, straight.
In my life I have interacted with so many, each has left their mark for better or worse. I would like to think I don’t fit into any one type, yet in any given moment those types live within and show their true colours. I would like to think being a man isn’t about being a type, it is about expressing male qualities in a world that at times is confusing, strange and frankly hard work.
I don’t want my boys to be any particular type of man, but I don’t want them to be afraid to be men. At times the crazy testosterone feelings inside have real value, as do the quiet reflective moments that make the contrast.
I felt very different when I was young to many around me, and now I wonder how many of them too felt so different.
Where we all stood around pretending to be ok yet deep down feeling so much more. I want my boys to be able to talk it through, to feel it, to meditate on it, to struggle with it, and to hopefully see light at the end of any tunnels they feel stuck in.
To my boys, I wish I had all the answers. I don’t.
Know that I have been through some stuff, my stuff, it will be quite different from your stuff. I will try and understand that. I won’t always get it. I have aged you see, and at times I behave like my father even when I swore I wouldn’t. It happens. Despite your protests you too will have it happen. Just always look into your heart, your real heart, in their lives good, in their lives honesty and truth. Step away from the BS you will hear and see out there in this world and learn to be guided by what truly matters to you. That is being a man. That is being your man. Don’t feel you have to be like anyone else, not me, not the bone headed bloke next to you, or some perceived bloke to impress someone else, or what you see on TV or the net, or hear on the radio or in songs. See all those things, sense them all, get things from them but be you – whoever that is. It won’t always feel so good, sometimes it will feel absolutely unbelievable. That is the ride we are on.
Ride gently where you can!
And remember sometimes you just have to ask for help, older men forget to offer it in the right way sometimes.
Well that’s what ireckon anyway!
Brilliantly written cacophany of inner conflicts experienced by us all. Sometimes I look back to my teenage years and cringe at the behaviours I displayed and feel true remorse for the people I bullied or the girls who I treated badly. Then I look to my children, in my case daughters, and wonder how I prepare them for the inevitable pain they will experience from boys like me. Should I be over-protective to shelter them from the evils of the world, or should I give them free rein to learn from their own mistakes? Do I shatter their view of perfect Daddy by explaining I *know* how the bad boys think? Or do I feign ignorance and risk alienating myself from their trials? And just where IS that bloody guide book that is supposed to come with children???
Nice post mate.
Beautifully penned, Darryl. I have similar anxieties for my kids. I just want them to find their own rhythm in life and know I’m there when they need me to be.
As the proud dad to a bright, imaginative and intelligent 3yo daughter (she recognised an RCA male adapter on a computer in the office as being compatible with an RCA female adapter on the TV in the lounge, at 2yo), I couldn’t have agreed with you more or written those thoughts as succinctly. However, I would add one other conflict – and a bent on Sean’s post.
As my daughter ages, I get longer glimpses of vicarious insight into her world – some of these are purely delightful and others are dreadful – both are probably so only because I know the bigger picture, and the consequences. So I feel pain when she comes home to tell me that her best friend isn’t her friend any more. Conversely, I feel pride when I learn that she’s pushed the bully over.
But! Do I do the social win and curb her George McFly thrill for the bully push, or do I do the dad win and cheer on my budding Chopper Reed. I’m not living in a bubble – I’ve seen the parents who reward their kids when they run through shopping centre play pens beating on the weak, like they’re training policy dogs. And I’ve seen the over-protective parents who will retaliate against the nearest kid/parent if their own little Wiggum falls over himself.
I’ve actually had this conversation with my own mother, questioning whether its worth extending child-hood or exposing reality – and actually suggesting that she could’ve toughened me up a bit – but we didn’t come to a solid conclusion between us …
I think the most pragmatic objective should be to arm our children with the knowledge that they can responsibly handle, today, and give them the power to effectively master the destiny that they can engage with.
Think of it this way; Rudolph Giuliani mentioned on “The View” today that when he stood at ground zero after the first WTC building collapse and realised that this event was so big that it exceeded all of the management/response capabilities that the city had – that it was the memory of his dad telling him when he was young that “if you’re ever in an emergency/fire – don’t panic – or at least look like you’re not in a panic. Panic takes time, consumes effort and clouds your ability to find exits.” – that’s what got him through.