Notion of Pressure

The gym in my mind

Rembrandt van Rijn Dutch,1606-1669

Suppose the emotional and notional weight I placed on my shoulders allowed for some level of resistance training. In that case, I'd look like the Hulk.

I load the barbell, which is the weight in my mind ever so heavily on both sides—always equally measured but rarely understood. Pride was once my spotter when the barbell grew heavy. As the oldest of 10 children, placed in foster care at a young age, I learned that my worth was measured by how much I could carry. I understood early that love was earned through the weight I could bear, if it came at all.

Now, pride has vanished from the gym of my mind. The only weight remaining on that barbell is the understanding that this pressure—this constant mental load—makes it difficult to connect with those I love, those I hold dear, and those who care not for what I do but for who I am.

I'm doing the work. This writing, this sharing—it's all part of it. So are my faith, my therapy, and being open with my partner without expecting her to fix it. She has her own weights to carry. As I seek out other fathers who aim to do the same work, I've learned that fathers need other fathers. We need to understand that those lessons we picked up throughout our childhood and beyond were fundamentally wrong, never designed for humans to begin with.

To say I wish the work were over would be an absolute understatement. I long for my nervous system to be correctly rewired and for my default responses to align with what those I love need and want. Funny enough, the frustration of this process adds another plate to the barbell.

The notion of pressure follows me daily as I write down my to-do lists. This meeting, that task—I look at that sheet, and that sheet looks back at me. The barbell gains its weights. Time to start pushing them out.

Some days, I write a different list—a lighter one. I write about playtime with my kids, coffee with my wife, a good book, and time spent outside. When I look at that list, I realize how much lighter my life could feel if it were filled with more of those moments.

I've started to develop methods of removing the weights. It's slow and often extremely tedious, but the results have begun to show. I'm a good man, a good husband, and a good father. Striving to be better daily is the wisest decision I can make.

To the father who feels this pressure: understand you aren't alone. Feel free to reach out—I'm always happy to make a new friend.

If you've come looking for answers, my friend, I'm afraid I don't have many, but notions I have aplenty.

Until next time,

John D.