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Men of My Tribe: Me
I’ll open up a little; some times I get jealous of those of you with fathers, even the ones with bad fathers. Say what you want, but they love their sons, and aren’t afraid to say so. It’s more than I got, and it’s more than I’ll ever have; and not all the prayer or righteous living will get it for me. Sometimes I feel so alone, and inferior. I must be, because my father didn’t love me. It’s not about how well I turned out, or how proud he would be, or should be. It’s about how I perceived myself in my mind in my youth that I can’t get over today. That’s probably why fathers scared me so; I wasn’t used to being in the company of grown men, and I felt awkward and uncomfortable. When I went places with my friend and his father I would always stand behind my friend as if he was my shield or buffer. No one talked to me directly.
More news: I’m not shy, I’m insecure.
I don’t speak because I don’t want to draw attention to myself. I’m working on it, hence the opening up, but public speaking is still hard for me especially at church. I stand there; the illegitimate, bastard son who went unclaimed and unloved till I was 16! Try as I may to find words to talk to God for these people who know what I am, (one of the Mother’s let my real father’s name slip; the Pastor has done it a couple of times too), I know that I’m unworthy, that there are better people, men, then me, that should be here speaking to God for these people. If all they have is me then they’re in real trouble.
In some ways I’m lucky. I don’t have a lot of generational baggage: alcoholism, physical and psychological abuse. My kids have a confidence and experiences I don’t have. Aknd yet, alltooften I find myself coming up short. I can’t help it! It’s like my bad knee; I just kind of limp better on some days than others.
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I Slipped Away
