Fatherless behaviour?

Siri play ‘Like Him’ by Tyler the Creator

A friend mentioned the other day that they could only write when they were sad. I don’t like to think that I’m also like that. But I’ve been trying to write about my mum for two years, and I just can’t bring myself to. For how tall my love is for her on her birthday, on Mother’s Day, the words I want to write fall far too short. I’m not usually stirred by Father’s Day but something has been shifting in my spirit lately, a slight unease kind of like motion sickness. Noticeable enough to be irritating but not so much I wish to do anything drastic about it.

So here I am on Father’s Day. Writing about someone I once did not see or speak to for three years. But I guess that’s not quite true. We have the same face. I see him every day.

I’m always reckoning with what I put online. How much do I tell? What is oversharing? Even as I write this, I wonder if it’s appropriate to post. I then realised I’m not giving you any details. That’s where the devil is, you see. There are things I wanted to include here but after careful consideration have decided against. This isn’t so much for you as it is for me. Why post it, then? I hear you ask. I’m not sure really. I’m not really sure about anything at the moment. Bear with me!

One thing I am sure about is that I do need to acknowledge that I am fully affected by all of this. As a girl child, any unruly behaviour is considered “fatherless”. There is some truth to this, I guess. Psychology says so. Diminished self-concept, compromised physical and emotional security, truancy, promiscuity re te te. Those aren’t real problems for me (perhaps one, feel free to guess). My major issue is my personhood being cloaked by someone who had nothing to do with it. My grandmother is why I am who I am. My mother is why I am who I am. My siblings and my friends are why I am who I am. EYE am why EYE am who EYE am. This guy getting all the credit is kinda crazy.

I’ve tied myself into knots about this. Tying and untying and then shaking. I'm trying to shrug off this invisible weight everyone can see, but I can’t. The title “father” is quite the cross to bear. One I shouldn’t be carrying if I don’t need it. And I don’t. I’m not saying that to be tough. I’ve just never needed it. But it’s forced onto my back by those who mean well but know nothing. In those three years of no contact, I felt weightless. My back is sore again. I’ve been here before, so I can carry it. That doesn’t mean I should, though. Maybe I would carry it if I could give some away. But you can’t hold my trust. It’s too heavy.

In his song ‘Like Him,’ Tyler the Creator likens the feelings surrounding his absent father to chasing ghosts. I don’t feel like I’m chasing a ghost. That implies echoes from the past haunt me. A hand reaching out to touch something solid, only to have fingertips that flit through mist and dance past apparitions just to grab onto nothing. Questions asked but never answered. When I stretch out my hand, I touch flesh. There is nothing I do not know. I have my answers. My problem isn’t abandonment or the unknown. Ultimately, my issue is embarrassment. Embarrassed, I have these issues that we were never mine to have from a man who was never meant to hurt me.