The one fight is omnipresent these days in my life. In everything I do, everything I feel, it's there. Lurking. Shadowing. Dripping poison. I'm aware, I truly am, conscious through a surgery without anesthesia, outcome unknown.
It's been a great day, no matter what. I try not to let the "either you do what I want or I'll take our kid out of her community!" affect me too much, but it's hard. I've built her community carefully. Over a decade, in the beginning without knowing, as it was my community, and now, maybe too consciously. I gave, have given, give, will give it all. There's a reason why I write, sing, speak, cry. It's somewhat unfathomable to me how fatherhood has changed me. I never had this kind of sacrifice in my mind. Ever. And it feels so right. So good. So true.
The voice is in my head. Lily wanted to take a bath with Ellie today. Normally, I wouldn't have bat an eye. But with Lily's mom being on war path, everything is different. I question everything. Trying to avoid even more problems. Which honestly is not possible, as it doesn't matter what I do - who wants to find excuses to make trouble, will find it. There's always something to critize.
That's parenting, too. We're not perfect at all, on the contrary, we make more mistakes than we do right, or at least we think so. If someone wants to take apart a parenting style, it's the easiest thing in the world. Human nature, all children are traumatized anyway, to some extend, always. "Could be worse" is the new "perfect". "Survive" is close to "happy".
This puts all those Punkrock/Skatepunk songs from my adolescence into a whole new perspective. Good parenting is causing rebellion. Those who rebel at least have values, right?
"She'll survive." That's what her mom said when I tried to make her aware of the damage she'd do to her child if she ripped her out of here again, moving every 4 months, never staying in one place. Never creating a home. When Lily was 1, 2, 3, even 4 years old - yes, her mom was home. I got that. I traveled to be with her, spend what felt like two lifetimes in uncomfortable buses surrounded by the penetrating smell of "fritada" and questionable hygiene. But she's 7 now.
I'm trying to wiggle myself out of the guilt. As parents, we're guilty. We're guilty of creating that life, and then that person. That human. That's our propaganda in etymology - we spread. We're responsible for it, mainly. Yes, society influences, our families influence, the other sperm/egg donor influences.
But I believe that to take this seriously, to create a human being that I consider good under my set of values, my believes, my convictions, under that premise I have to assume that I'm 90%. Especially in my situation. Confronting myself with the negative, my negative, my anti. I have to keep finding that compromise, setting limits, negotiating, manipulating, using all my skills and knowledge and intelligence and capabilities for the greater good - propagating my values on Lily.
Because I'm happy. Inherently. Happy in sadness, happy in frustration, happy in fear, happy in anger. Always. And I want her to be, too. I'd love everyone to have that. But she's the one I can gift it to. And the struggles that we're going through are always a good start. Teach by example. Be happy. Walk the line. Step by step. Hope that it'll be alright. It will be. Right?
Post written for the #saturdayselections by Galenkp inviting us to share music in the Weekend Experiences community on Saturdays.
Please feel free to engage in any original way, including dropping links to your posts on similar topics. I'm happy to read (and curate) any quality content that is not created by LLM/AI.