Nooses or Knots

I’m out of gas.

Out of steam.

On edge.

Running on empty

At the end of my rope.

As fathers, those days come and they come more often for some of us than others and they come more frequently in some periods of our life than others. Not much we can do about the pressures of life. When those are added to the pressures of fatherhood or if, indeed, fatherhood is one of the catalysts from which it stems those pressures press down then it is altogether different and has a way of defining, if not threatening the ruin, of one’s day.

Of consequence, tempers run short and patience runs thin and you’re a hair trigger from the next memorable moment and that moment might be memorable for all the wrong reasons. Accordingly, if you’re that short on patience then the best remedy is to walk away for a bit and find something else. It’s easy to snap, it’s hard (if not impossible) to retract things said and done in a moment of anger. And though your child will forget their shoes, their homework or brushing their teeth, they’ll never forget anger or sharp words. And though your little one might be throwing a tantrum, tantrums are for toddlers, not you.

These days can turn into a spiral where one thing follows the next and the next and each frustration feeds off the last until the irritation is overwhelming and you erupt. Anger and frustration spill forth over everyone and everything and poison whatever goodwill was left in the day and make the mountain you’ve got to climb to zero out that much steeper. Things have a way of getting out of control and faster than we can adapt.

I am no different than any man. I bark at my wife sometimes in short fused and sleep deprived self righteousness. I get frustrated with the kids over things that would have been laughable two days beforehand. Every test, trial and tick of the clock is tainted by that exhaustion be it mental, physical or both.

At the end of my rope. And there are two options when you reach that end. Tie a noose or tie a knot. Give up or hang on.

In my military days, I hated parts of PT (Physical Training). I loved the weight room and swimming but despised running with all that was in me. Running has always been a difficult thing for me. I’m not built for it. But I built a method of dealing with that hate. I’d chant ‘one more step’ each time I planted a foot and lull myself into a trance. “One more step.” And pretty soon I’d convinced myself I wasn’t running a mile, I was running a step. And then a step. And then a next. And one more. And then………………..done.

That doesn’t work perfectly in day to day life. But it works well enough. I understand that life isn’t a game we’re just trying to complete, but one in which we are trying to accomplish things. But it is fine that some days, some weeks, are marked by those periods of taking just …….One. More. Step.

Or in the them of this post, sometimes you have to just tie a knot in that rope and hold on. I won’t tell you to sing in the rain or dance through that fire or ‘hey, look on the bright side!” because more often than not my (usually unspoken) reply to those types of statements from people are best not printed here.

So what that this week has me swinging from a rope like Tarzan on meth. At least I’m hanging in there. And just the thought of that makes it a little easier to focus on climbing back up. Tying those knots and that’s another handhold. And another. And another.

In the end, your children will focus on how you handle these days, these moments, these trials. And you’re unwittingly and sometimes unknowingly teaching coping mechanisms, or lack thereof, to the next generation. Relentless cheer and false bravado are things they see through with little effort. Stress and anxiety are transmitted wirelessly into their little heads without them being conscious of what they’re really witnessing.

And as fathers I think there’s an expectation and certainly a desire to appear to be that Superman. To be unflinching and unfailing and to never show weakness, even when anger is the only alternative. Perhaps we even act that way as husbands sometimes. We don’t want to show the hurt and the fear and uncertainty and that weight that the world places on us at times. Because, if I’m honest, I can translate that same fear and uncertainty in my wife’s face as a failure of mine. I was that way once, and catch myself being that way sometimes now as well. Human. Careful with that though, because that self expectation will drive your further down that rope.

Alas, I am not. Superman that is. Nor am I infallible or indestructible or without limits. I’m tired. I’m beat. This week has been tough as a parent. As a husband. As that human. It feels like every time I stand up there’s another gut punch that knocks the wind from me and sweeps me to my knees.

And of course we need to teach our children positivity and ways of dealing with stress and anger. There’s a time for those lessons. There’s a time to demonstrate how we can more positively deal with challenges in our lives. There’s also a time to demonstrate that, though wiser than them, we don’t have it all figured out and life isn’t always easy. Sometimes all we can do is just outlast the deluge and begin anew.

So, yeah, I’m out of steam. Out of gas. Running on empty. I could call it a day and give up. That’s a helluva example to set. I’ve had to live with those kinds of poor decisions before. It’s not easy. Certainly no easier than the alternative despite what you might believe. Giving up is always more painful than holding on. And not just for you.

So despite the weight and the hurt and the fatigue and the stress I’ve tied that knot at the end of my rope and damnit, sweetheart, Daddy is holding on.