The Fatherless...and Our Egos

When left fatherless or motherless, the pain and ramifications of that drives behaviors and collides with the unresolved issues of the adults who are attempting to help...Or are they?

Music by Scott Holmes - A Wee Tipple 
Non Copyright Music 

Transcript

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Years ago, I came across the songs We Are the Fatherless and Father Me by Brian Dorkson. They are still favorites of mine. Actually, the entire album Father's House is a favorite. Everything about those songs effectively communicate the anger, hurt, and real longings by those who are fatherless and motherless. In working with the fatherless, their anger with life often collides with our ego. What is needed from us to be effective is the ability to recognize any interaction that gets a rise out of me, that upsets me. Anything that makes me want to give the cold shoulder, give up, dismiss, or return their anger in any way. These interactions are not really about the bad behavior on the part of the unruly one, but actually are opportunities to raise awareness of what is driving us, of our intention, and of having any expectation of specific outcomes. If my identity revolves around being seen as anything, kind, helpful, strong, assertive, trustworthy, unaffected, whatever it is, that identity will be directly challenged. You can count on it. The fatherless, the unruly ones, have a way to test the driving forces behind any adult's engagement, especially an adult who is trying to help in some way, and they use it to drive a wedge, to create distance and maintain control, to resist forming any connection. Because connection is the greatest longing of the fatherless and their greatest fear, but often the catalyst for change. Sometimes the fatherless, the defiant ones, just want to stick it to you. They're angry with the world, and for good reason. It's someone else's turn to hurt. They want to give back at someone in any way they know how. Because why, of all the other people in the world, do they end up as fatherless? Why them? Why their family? Why their life? They can't see the difference between you and I and every other adult who has let them down, and their sticking it to you almost always collides with our ego. Whatever my identity is wrapped up around, whatever I need to be perceived as, will block me from being able to see beyond the behavior of the fatherless one in front of me and into the reason for his or her behavior. Because I will be focused on convincing them of who I see myself to be, rather than seeing who they truly are, what hurt them, and what they need. Maybe I believe myself to be helpful and a nice person, and that these fatherless ones obviously need help. I mean, how lucky are they? How could one ever refuse getting help from someone as nice as me? The truth of the matter is that unconsciously, our niceness might be used as bait, as a way to draw in the unruly one, so I can receive a gold star. I was the one who built trust. Look at me. Or maybe the experiences of the fatherless teach them to spot the caretaking adult's real intentions. They're just checking the boxes that gets them a paycheck. They spot the lack of follow-through, of real care. And the fatherless one opens his mouth and curses our checking of boxes, our shallow interactions, our inability or unwillingness to listen and connect. Our need to be seen as strong might use the emotional reactivity of the fatherless as an arena to showcase our ability to be unaffected. Our need to be seen as helpful or kind uses the truly desperate need of the fatherless as a potential poster board for displaying our helpfulness, thus proving our worth, our value to anyone who sees it. But when the unruly one, the defiant one, doesn't take the bait or refuses the help, offense can easily be taken. And instead of looking at what has gotten us worked up so much, we blame the fatherless one and chalk him or her up to being unteachable, unworkable. And instead of doing the very challenging work of looking in the mirror and asking ourselves, what is it about this punk that pisses me off so much? Why does his audacity to call me out make me so angry? Why do I want to give up now? Or why do I want to give him hell for how he's acting or speaking to me? No, instead of asking questions, instead of reflecting, it's easy to dismiss the fatherless ones, Mr. Attitude, or Miss Sarcastic, and throw them to the side on the ever-growing pile of those who have been deemed useless, not worth it, and beyond reach. These insubordinate, defiant, fatherless ones remind us that the deepest respect is earned, not forced, that looking for gold stars while loving the other is not loving, but about our own need for approval, for building an image, for gaining the validation our younger selves are still looking for. The fatherless remind us that making up for what was lost in childhood takes time and cannot be dictated, and that our heart for others does not guarantee positive outcomes. That true loving includes dying to how we want things to turn out, and when. It includes being in touch with our own areas of need so we can be sure those needs are not driving our behaviors. We must become what we are trying to encourage in the other. We must maintain awareness of our powerlessness to guarantee specific outcomes, but also an awareness of the power of presence, of what can happen when simply showing up and witnessing the life of another, of being able to stand in the presence of one who is essentially bleeding out, of the fatherless ones whose hearts are broken. We dare not look away. We must let our hearts break. We must have the strength to see the cruelty the fatherless have lived with and the love they have lived without, without giving any flimsy answers for what is often unspeakable. We must put aside our egos of how we want to be seen or how we think about ourselves, which allows us to respect the distance they create, offering love and care without demand, letting them decide if and when they let their guard down, and coming to terms with it if they don't, accepting the time it takes to heal, because really healing is voluntary. But when someone shows up with presence, consistency, and the kind of love that doesn't scare easily, miracles can happen.