Request Denied

Anger is a great motivator, providing the will to act. Evolution instilled the impulse, helping us protect ourselves so we can survive. But as energizing as it is, it bows in the presence of a greater motivator: Guilt.

In the absence of a crime, guilt is neurotic. At least that's what my therapist used to tell me. It resonates each and every time I fell compelled to visit with Dad. I worked hard to abandon the expectation of him coming close to my ego ideal of what a Dad should be. Instead I've suffered one crushing disappointment after another butting against what is and what will never be. Instead, I am crippled by a mistrust of males and only have a handful of male friends. The Reverend is the closest. Our bond stems from scars that refuse to heal, left by men whose job was to prepare us to survive this life, instead of just donating sperm, and using us to achieve their own nefarious deeds.

My anger and guilt erect walls that protect feelings of inadequacy. I’ll never be free of feeling like a little boy, cowering in the presence of Dad almighty. But when he asks me to call grandma I don't. When he asks me to patch things up with my brother, I scoff, opting for my pride in the face of a stalemate. Until I'm presented with an ideal father, incorruptable in matters pertaining to his son, do not ask me to nurture relationships that will bear no fruit, nor provide any solace.

Request denied!