There are a myriad of purposes in each person’s heart that move us in directions of intense performance.  My own life was encumbered with doubt, a doubt leading to pursuits of driven performance. What led to this experience of doubt within my own heart. There were difficult experiences with my father. What did I do with this troubling relationship?

My own dad didn’t have a father in his life.  His own father abandoned my grandmother when dad was 7 years old. Who was in his life guiding him through his young years? Dad was fatherless.  He was doted on by his mother. He most often got what he wanted.  He was spoiled and a wildly troubled young man. As a teen he had a very fast car that allowed him to speed away from police cars. He had so many tickets the judge knew his name. While sharing his story he beamed with pride in his skill of avoiding troubles he created.  He also learned about hard work. Dad was a self-made man, who didn’t want anyone’s help .What kind of father was he?  Impatient, quick to anger, always right, blaming, hard-working, neglectful in understanding others, respected by his co-workers, nice to people who came to visit our family, and a man who drank beer to cope with internal stress.

Reflecting upon childhood, I remember well how quickly dad became angry, an anger which was accompanied by physical punishment. I desperately wanted to know dad’s love and while at the same time greatly fearing him. His anger was a consistent response to disappointments when I did something he didn’t want me to do or when I made mistakes.  By 9 years old I believed I was responsible for my dad’s anger. No one told me this, it’s what I concluded about my life in response to his outbursts. I thought that if I could be good enough, dad would not get angry with me. Being good enough never resulted in knowing his love and acceptance. Did my dad love me for who I was even when I messed up? No he didn’t, he was angry and punitive. He was good at over reacting to what didn’t really matter and minimizing what really did matter.

By the teen years my relationship with dad was encumbered by doubt.  What was this doubt? Deep within my own heart lay buried an unanswered question. Am I really loved for who I am? Consistently the answer was no. Slowly but surely I moved in directions of finding hope through performance. Performance was where I could be in charge of finding love, acceptance, and significance or so I thought. Sadly I placed the same expectation on those who I was close to, perform and don’t disappoint me. I never learned from my father about loving and accepting a person for who they are. The search for a father’s love lost hope.