This is how we Conceptualise Human Beings

 

In an episode of Ted Lasso I watched yesterday, the two main characters of a story share their deepest, sincerest feelings about their dads. Ted, after a panic attack, reveals to his therapist that his dad killed himself when Ted was 16 - an occurrence that made Ted hate his dad for quitting on him and his mom. Rebecca, after an angry outburst at her dad’s funeral, reveals to her mom how years ago, she had caught her dad cheating on her mom, earning him Rebecca’s lifelong hatred.

Ted eventually goes on to recount a good memory of his dad, where his dad sat up the entire night to read a book that Ted had to read for a test and how on his way to dropping him to school the next day, narrated the entire book to Ted who scores an A.

A few months ago, listening to Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers, I lost control a bunch of times. As in, breaking down in tears because of how goddamn hard some of the words hit home. In the ending verse of ‘Father Time’, Mr Lamar implores those who grew up with absentee dads to not continue the vicious cycle with their own kids by being absent themselves or by being too tough on them. 

In yet another track from the same album, he narrates three separate stories, but the lyrics that stayed with me go, “The day I chose humanity over religion, the family got closer, it was all forgiven”. 

For the longest time, I have been a proponent of forgiveness because I always have believed that love, no matter what, always conquers all - also best said by a Sense8 character, “I have no room in my heart for hate”. I mean - think about how hard and heavy it must be living with so much hate. 

Therefore, it only made sense to me to let go of all the anger and disrespect I had garnered for my own dad over the years. The anger that stemmed from him mistreating us when we were kids by not being there but more importantly, disrespecting my mother by his unfaithfulness coupled with abuse. As we grew up, my mum found ways to stand up to him - something that has stayed with me, despite my mum’s flawed parenting of my siblings and me. Dad’s behaviour got less erratic, but mostly, he lost control of and respect from all his kids. 

Among all of us three, I was the luckiest. I got to fuck off from a toxic household, got to figure this life thing at my own ease [I’ve realised that not everyone is privileged enough to], going through shit but never backing down - a spirit first instilled into me by my fearless mother, exacerbated by Stefani Germanotta who taught me:

1. That there’s no such thing as ‘normal’ or ‘weird’. It’s all in your head. 
2. That life’s too short to not live on your terms. 
3. Wear a meat dress. Wear nothing. It’s your body and nobody can make you feel shit about it.
4. Keep your karma clean. 
5. Most importantly, live doing what you love. Because when you’re gone, all they’ll see is how bright you painted the world.

But here’s the thing - no matter how unbiased and unprejudiced you might grow to be, what do you do when you keep seeing a person be the same stale piece of shit human being he always has been? What do you do about people who never experience the wisdom of old age and remain the same ungrateful good-for-nothings all their lives? No matter how many fruits you bear, you’re only a tree and therefore, very susceptible to being easily poisoned. 

The last time I was home for two weeks, I started off on a high with the person to whose balls I owe my existence on this planet. We’d occasionally dine together, he’d get me my favourite dessert, and he’d crack jokes and nickname people he didn’t like - which I think is his best trait. I think I get most of my looks from my mom, but my weird humour and curiosity from my dad. A little backstory: my dad is the youngest of his siblings. So when he reached youth, my grandparents were already off on an extensive country tour-cum-pilgrimage, with nobody to watch over him, leaving him open to judgmental, oftentimes cruel behaviour from the family that was around. 

I’m not emotionally or professionally equipped to psychoanalyze anyone, but it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that my dad clearly went through abandonment and lack of good guidance in the most impressionable years of his life. The result? Countless issues stemming from undiagnosed self-esteem issues, turning the lives of his immediate family miserable. 

When I was old enough to ignore his bullshit and live a little on my own terms, I did exactly that - something he really couldn’t stomach and got immensely butt-hurt about. Amidst all that, we did get beer once together. That’s the only memory I have of him where he wasn’t an asshole. 

Mind you, even though I’m high on love 90% of the time, I’m very unforgiving and hold everyone around me to unrealistically high standards. So when neither of my parents could keep up with it, my expectations of them hit an all-time low, resulting in me behaving and acting like a real, independent adult while I was still in college. I realised I cannot rely on my parents for financial or emotional fulfilment and I set out to do that for myself. Well, the financial bit, at least. 

Everything has been pleasant for me ever since. My daddy issues made me fierce and independent, but they’ve also made me emotionally aloof and ultra self-reliant, which sometimes segue into me being kinda sorta lonely. 

A phone call from my mother earlier today made me realise that I can’t keep doing this dance all by myself for too long and that I cannot shut them out all my life. She keeps begging me to call my dad, a request I never give in to because even though I’m ready to meet him midway, he would rather have me travel all the way. 

In that scenario, who do you think the onus to make amends falls on? The father who acted mindlessly and ruined the childhoods and potentials of all his kids or the daughter who doesn’t want anything to do with him because she’s a righteous asshole and believes that people’s karma rewards/punishes them?

Dad, I’m sorry you’re as messed up as you are. I wish you had better people around you to show you how to become the best version of yourself. I’m sorry you didn’t have enough love around you to show you the high road, to show you to be a good husband or a good father. But it’s alright. I think I have enough love for the both of us to come to you if it is the last thing I do. And I will do that because I have the love, the care, the understanding of my friends, people I work with, people I hang around, and pertinently, the love of countless writers, storytellers, and lovers before me who have made me feel comforted and loved through their tales of strength, courage, and the vulnerability that one exposes oneself to when they truly let someone love them.

I will not do this dance alone anymore because truly, I have no room for hate in my heart.