Tag Archives: what is a dad

This post originally appeared on my “What Is a Dad” blog.

OK, yes, I am fully aware that I have been silent on this blog pretty much ever since I took my trip to Oregon, which (incidentally) should be the most captivating part of this blog. Yes, people have kids for the first time all the time; but that whole meeting my dad thing for the first time in thirty years, yeah that’s huge.

So…I’ve been conflicted on where to go next on this blog. I have a bunch of thoughts that I think I just need to lay out on here (for further expansion, I’m sure).

I’m reading John Eldredge’s classic book on men, “Wild at Heart,” with a young man in the church. We meet every week, and we discuss the chapters and the implications for our own lives. Anyway, I think reading chapter six, titled “The Father’s Voice,” really applies to a lot of what I’ve been feeling since I met my dad, brother, sister, and bunch of other family in Oregon.

Eldredge talks about “wounds” that we receive from our fathers. in a nutshell, he writes about how a man normally/hopefully/historically/by-design should get his sense of who he is from his father. Typically, though, a man can get a negative message from his father. Let me give you a couple of examples from my own life.

Since my biological dad was out of the picture when I was so small (so young that I had no memory of him), he left me with a wound that looks something like this. “Hey, Dad, am I good enough? Do I have what it takes?” The absence throughout most of my life gave me kind of a default answer, “Huh, what, um…shucks…I guess you’re on your own, kid. You’ll figure it out.”

That wound is deep in me. I can deny it, but it’s definitely there. It’s a wound that, no matter how close someone gets to me (I think of my wonderful wife, my mom who has always had my back, my best friend, even my pastor), I still have this sinking feeling embedded in my psyche that says, “Yeah, I get it. That’s what you’re ‘supposed’ to say. I know that I’ve really got to work my stuff out on my own.” So I fall into isolation.

My stepdad came into my life at my formative years (I think I was like four to fourteen when he was my “dad”). He had a nickname for my older brother and me. It was kind of a simultaneous stab at my Italian heritage and “weakness.” He used to call us “The Linguine Brothers.” I guess the idea was that my arms and legs weren’t strong. Instead, they were weak like a wet pasta noodle. The wound that I received from him, the answer to whether or not I have what it takes: “Of course not. You’re weak. There’s something deficient in you. You’ll never be a real man. You’re just not tough enough.”

I still have memories of seminal moments in my life in which I tried to assert my strength; and, in almost all of them, I felt that (instead of like having the “Mick” in my corner like in Rocky yelling, “You’re going to piss lightning and crap thunder!”) he would be in the corner saying, “See, I told you that you couldn’t do it.”

That wound is deep in me as well. Again, I can deny it; but it’s definitely there. It’s a wound that manifests itself in dangerous ways. If I’m not a man, I’m going to be drawn to things that make me feel like I am one. So I go full-speed-ahead in life trying to accomplish all of this awesome stuff (for God?) to validate my sense that I’m good enough.

Eldrege made a good point towards the end of the chapter when he said that the wound hurts the closer you get to it.

So…I’ve been wondering why I’ve been in such a funk since Oregon. I know it went well. My father is kind. My family embraced me. It was good. But, I still feel like I’m in a funk.

I think being there just reminded me of all those feelings. And I don’t know how to deal with them (as much as I’ve stuffed them in the past). I sincerely know that I have forgiven my dad for leaving when I was a kid; but, man, even after meeting all of these people who are my family, I had this totally senseless feeling that I was alone– and that I was left to deal with it on my own.

I’m sorry. I’m a crappy blogger. I could see it in the way that people looked at me the first Sunday I was back home. Everyone was wanting to know what happened, how did it go, etc. And I just felt like I couldn’t put it into words. It doesn’t make sense in some respects. I felt more alone after I went to Oregon. That makes no sense. (Paul, don’t say that out loud.)

I think it was timely for me to read that chapter of that book this morning. The wound hurts the closer you get to it. That’s it! It makes sense to me now. At least I know what the heck is going on. It would be the same thing if I heard from or saw my stepdad. Inside there would be this insatiable desire for me to show him how great I am and all the accomplishments I’ve made. “I’m smarter than you. I’m better than you. I could (pardon my French) kick your ass.” It’s not right. Shoot, it might not even be true. It’s definitely not a godly response. But it’s almost as if the lightning bolt scar on my heart is starting to hurt because I’m close to the source of that pain.

So I want to apologize for my isolation. I already am working through this with Mary Kate. I think the hardest thing is that I have the most supportive, wonderful wife in the world. And she’s super-pregnant, and I’ve got this wonderful girl that I love from the moment she was conceived trying out for the women’s world cup in MK’s belly.

I’m not seeing the forest for the trees.

I’m not alone.

The title of the chapter is “The Father’s Voice.” Jesus Christ says that “Whoever wants to save his life will ose it” (Luke 9:24).

Eldredge points out in his book: “Christ is not using the word ‘bios’ here; he’s not talking about our physical life. The passage is not about trying to save your skin by ducking martyrdom or something like that. The word Christ uses for ‘life’ is the word ‘pysche’– the word for our soul, our inner self, our heart. He says that the things we do to save our psyche, our self, those plans to save and protect our inner life– those things will actually destroy us…God loves us too much to leave us there. So he thwarts us, in many, many different ways.”

I believe that God is healing me. I believe He sometimes heals me by digging claws into a already excruciatingly painful gunshot wound to extract the bullet. The alcohol to disinfect hurts. The tight bandage hurts. It all hurts. But I’m healing.

Oh…and I had my hand on MK’s stomach last night. I felt Evie kicking in there. And all I could think was, “Oh, God, please help me to figure this stuff out before she’s born. Or at least give her the grace to not feel the brunt of this withdrawing, this overachieving thing that her daddy is going through. I don’t want to be emotionally inaccessible. I don’t want to be so driven that I find my value at work, cheating my wife, cheating my daughter.

So, yeah, this is important. It’s painful, but it’s important. Thanks for joining me on the journey. It’s my intention that God gets all the glory.

I thought of this song, “Look to You” by Hillsong United this morning. I thought I’d share:

I know You love me
I know You died for me
I know You care
I know You care

I know You live again
Your life for all my sin
Now I stand here in
In Your grace again

As I look into the sky above
Wonder how my life has changed
Wonder how Your love, it came to me
As I look into the sky above
All my fears, so far away
All I hear is heaven calling me

So I look to You
So I look to You
No one else will do
No one else will do

Posted by Paul Mannino in paul Tags: abandonment, achievement, coincidence, daddy issues, faith, father issues, fatherhood, forgiveness, freedom, hillsong united, isolation, jesus, john eldredge, life, look to you, luke 9:24, meeting my father, memories, overcompensating, pregnant wife, psyche, reconnecting with father, validation, weakness, what is a dad, wild at heart, worrying, wound