That's not a typo. It's the best way to describe my dysfunction.
I have seen my children every single day of their lives except for one. Seven years ago, my wife and I celebrated our 10th anniversary with a long weekend in New Buffalo Michigan. We left on Friday and returned on Sunday. I endured that entire Saturday without seeing my kids… and it was tough. I know this is not normal. It’s not healthy for me or my kids… but I have a problem. Things might be different if I were required to travel for work. If it were a responsibility, I would not shirk my duty. But I am blessed. I don’t have to travel. I get to see my kids every single day. I’m lucky. But I’m not quite right in the head. I truly want to see them… but I am also compelled to see them. I must see them. I am addicted to seeing them. I feel anxious and nervous at the thought of not seeing them. At the thought of not being the perfect dad who is always there for them. What If I’m gone and one of them needs me? What if I let them down?
This addiction is 100% self-imposed. I am addicted to meeting unrealistic expectations. It’s not just about my kids. It’s about everything in life. I set unrealistic expectations for being the model husband, teacher, friend, son, brother, writer… and even social media community member. If you read my piece about what I could possibly do to “pull my weight” on this site, you may have picked up on my mania. I set unrealistic expectations that only the very select few (we call them “Whales”) could ever meet. It was like I was going into a pickup basketball game at my local park with the expectations that I would perform like Michael Jordan or Steph Curry and single handedly lead my team to victory. Let’s just say I’m also a minnow when it comes to sports. So that is ludicrous.
When I remove myself from the situation and reflect, I know it’s ludicrous. But in the moment it doesn’t matter. The anxiety is real. The fear that I might let someone down is real. And it is a horrible feeling.
I approach everything in life like I must “win” it… or at least give maximum effort so I can look myself in the mirror and say “I gave it my all”. This is exhausting. (But I am getting better. More on that later).
For example, I have been lucky enough to be a stay at home dad with my kids each summer. Up until this summer, I planned everything. I strategized like I was going to war. I made daily “lesson plans” for summer. I set out to “win” summer.
Here’s a glimpse at what was going on in my head…
We would go to the Planetarium on Thursday because it was free on Thursdays. We’d hit the pool on Wednesday. I couldn’t forget the Arboretum on a nice day or the arcade on rainy days. Oh the library! They have cool things for kids Monday and Friday afternoons. What new kids movie came out? I need to pick up the kids’ friends and take them to see it (I even bought a van so I could be “that dad” who takes their kids’ friends on outings). If we go on Tuesday morning we will save $3 and get a free popcorn. I found a groupon for the waterslide! Now what day is available? I also need to make sure my kids exercise their minds and body every day, so I better make sure they have books to read and I set up some exercises they can do indoors. Oh I forgot about the zoo! We can go there after the movie … And that was just the first week. Exhausting.
Why do I do this to myself? How can I stop? Those are the two questions I brought with me when I sought the help of a counselor six months ago. I had an awesome life, but I wasn’t fully enjoying it because I was “trying to make perfect even better”.
“Trying to make perfect better” basically means I’m never satisfied. Even when any reasonable person would be. Let’s take a trip to Disney World for example. Most people with kids think, a trip to Disney World! That will be perfect! But I look at it and ask, "How can I make it more perfect? How can I make it the best experience ever? How can I 'win' Disney World?" The answer is simple (um no it's not), I could plan like a maniac to make sure my kids didn’t miss a single thing. I hopped on the phone at precisely 5:59 AM exactly 180 days before the trip so I could ensure that my daughter could have breakfast in Cinderella’s castle. Exactly 60 days before the trip, I hopped on the computer and scheduled an opportunity for my daughter to meet Rapunzel… and then checked the computer every 10 minutes to see if I could find an even better time for the meeting. I did the same with the Seven Dwarfs Mine Cart ride for my son. I could save as much money as possible by booking a hotel using three different coupon codes that took me 16 hours to find. And so on. I could “beat” Disney World. I could “make perfect better”.
But that is the problem. When I am chasing this unrealistic “better”, I am missing out on the very realistic “perfect” right in front of me. However, I always tried to do both. I was addicted to not letting down my wife and kids so I made sure to spend time with them, and to really “be there” when I did. I just chose to chase “bettering perfection” instead of sleeping, or eating, or doing things for myself. I am definitely not addicted to doing things just for myself.
But like I said, I’m getting better. The chase was burning me out. So I sought some help to see if I could end the chase. I’ve been working with a counselor for the past six months. He has helped me to figure out when and why I do this. If I can recognize when and why I’m doing it, I have a shot to stop it. It seems the “why” is rooted in my childhood. I’m not going to cry about my childhood, honestly it wasn’t that bad. I just had a busy single mom who couldn’t be there all the time (perhaps that is why I have this urge to always be there for my kids). She loved me but I still missed out on some things that most people get. I never learned how to feel secure. I never learned that if I failed at something, I was still ok. To me, failure meant that I was not worthy of love. Therefore, I have lead my life constantly trying to be perfect so that I would never have to face the uncomfortable question, “Will people still love me if I’m not perfect?”
When I finally reached my breaking point and sought the aid of a counselor, I was afraid that he would want me to think back to my childhood and cry. Or admit that I’m angry with my mom. But I don’t need to cry and I’m not angry with my mom. My mom did the best she could. I love her. If my mom never taught me to ride a bike, would I get angry? Would I need to cry? No. I would go and learn how to ride a damn bike. And this is exactly why I clicked with this guy. He has never worried about me crying or getting angry over the past. That would be pointless. I need to learn something I never learned. I need to learn that it’s ok not to be perfect. The only way to learn something is to do it… to take risks just like I ask my children and students to do. And then after you’ve done it and succeeded, you have to do it again and again and again. I have started taking these risks. This summer I didn’t plan every single second. This school year, I’m not trying to “win” ever 51 minute period (I’m playing the long game). I’m hitting “post” on these blogs after one hour of editing, not the twelve hours I would normally spend. I'm practicing and it's getting a little easier.
Luckily I have an awesome support system to help me as I fumble through this. My wife is an incredibly loving and supportive woman. My family and friends are willing to help as well. And I am extremely grateful.
As I write this, I am on a plane to Washington D.C. I’m headed there to see The Prophets of Rage show and to hang out with a buddy. I am doing this without my wife and kids. I’m taking the leap that when I return home on Sunday, my kids won’t think I let them down. Because that is what any sane person would think.
I’m getting better.
