I just spent the last hour typing up a post to put in !squaredcircle@lemmy.zip about how I observed a beautiful moment with a father and his 3 year old son.
The son was a fan of a wrestler named L.A. Knight. And he was set to make his grand entrance, and have his match, live in front of 57k people.
We were in the stadium, in line for merchandise. The line was really long. So the dad realized they would miss L.A Knight’s match.
Logically the smart thing to do is bring your son back to your seats. Give up your place in line, and try later. Or evdn online later.
Instead, this dad, who was clearly also a fan of L.A Knight, and wanted to see him asked his son: “Do you want to stay in line? Or go see L.A Knight?”
And the kid picked staying in line. The dad confirmed with him “If you stay in line, you’ll miss L.A Knight in the ring. He’s coming out now.”
And the kid chose to stay in line to get L.A Knight merch.
And the whole moment was beautiful to me. The idea of a dad respecting his kids opinion is foreign to me.
I grew up with my dad telling me to shut up and do it his way. Always his way. Still to this day, it’s always his way. My mom left him because he was controlling. My sisters (who are not his kids, but he helped raise them) don’t talk to him because of how he treated them.
I’m 40, and now he’s elderly, and I barely talk to him. Sometimes I feel guilty until moments like this. Where I’m reminded that still to this day I don’t speak up when I should. I don’t ask for help when I need it. I just suffer in silence, just as I always do.
There have even been times in the past where calling 911 for someone else having an emergancy was the right thing to do. Hearing gunshots on your street. Seeing a woman hanging out of a car screaming for help. But not calling 911, because nobody wants to hear what I have to say. Nobody wants to hear from me.
And at Summerslam, I see this kid saying he wants to stay in line. And the dad just confirms, and explains the consequences that he’ll miss L.A Knight, but the kid insisted on staying in line. Despite it not being the smart choice. It was the “wrong” choice. If I were in that position, my dad would have ended it with zero input on my end. But here this dad was respecting his sons choice. His three year old son.
And as I typed to a wrestling community what I intended to be a beautiful story, I realized it’s only beautiful to me because of my own repressed perspective. Everybody else just would hear a story about a normal dad doing normal dad things. Loving his son. Respecting his son.
And nobody would get why that would make me cry.
So I deleted the story before I posted it, and began to realize that even though I’m 40, and should be past all this, it still hurts, and I’m a deeply broken person.
And now I’m wondering, has anyone else had these moments where they realize that they’ve just been repressing pain for 30 years to the point where a normal loving relationship can cause jealousy, but also an intense heartwarming moment?
I don’t know how to describe it. That moment was just 10 minutes out of this kids life that he’ll not remember. The dad won’t deem it important, so he won’t remember this by now. It was a meaningless moment that in a loving relationship happens everyday. But to me, the idea of a dad respecting his son making a “wrong decision” had me supressing anger, sadness, and heartwarming joy, but also knowing how weird I was for that. And so I shut up, and repressed it. Only in trying to retell a heartwarming story did I realize it was coming across as bitter and jealous, and thats when I realized thats MY issue. And I don’t know where to go from here.
Have you ever had a moment like this?
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I’m happy that despite deleting the original post and not posting it in the wrestling community you decided to post it here after all. There are so many people in the world and even so many different people on Lemmy. Of course there will be people who appreciate your story! I, for one, was moved by it, because what you describe as a normal loving relationship is not as common as I would wish it to be. There will always be people with a troubled past like you or troubled in a different way or people that are ok and interested in other people’s life experiences. All of them can benefit from hearing your story! Don’t hesitate to talk about your life. It can be very good both for you and for others.
Never knowing my father, i was raised by a stepfather. He never spoke to me. Other than to demand i perform some task and then explaining how badly i had completed it… He never spoke to me. He never taught me how to. Ride a bike, throw a ball, shave, drive, or any of the things a dad should teach a son. I know almost nothing of his life… He never spoke to me
Becoming a parent has been one long strong of these moments. By doing the right things for my child, I get reminded of just how bad my childhood was, and it’s hard. But I’m determined to give them a better life than I had, to break the cycle.
Those who break the cycle are often the only ones aware of its existence in the first place. We aren’t broken, friend; we merely bear the weight of generations of broken men who’ve been falling downwards on top of those who come after.
It’s important to remember, though, that everyone has their demons. Childhood trauma caused by an abusive parent who was broken because of the war. Stuff like that. It’s an echo.
My man - thanks for sharing your story with us. You made my day better for it.
And as I typed to a wrestling community what I intended to be a beautiful story, I realized it’s only beautiful to me because of my own repressed perspective.
It was a wonderful story even without the full context. I don’t know what the online wrestling community is like, but unless they’re a bunch of jerks they’ll enjoy it too; whether you decide to share it with or without your personal context.
We would enjoy that story, I can assure you
Yes, I can relate. Not only that but it’s more common than you think.
Broken is a good word to describe the feeling, but not the reality. If you can afford it, taking with a good psychotherapist (I would choose a psychodynamic one as opposed to something like CBT), can help you use the unbroken in yourself to heal that feeling and the perspectives that emerge from it.
It’s important because the perspectives that emerge from it create even more unpleasant feelings. It’s like a cascade.
What a lovely post. Thank you for sharing it.
I’m 60 years old, my father passed many years ago. I have still not come to grips with all the complexities of our relationship. My wife knows that if we ever see a film or TV show where a parent, but particularly a father shows any form of approval for something their son did, I will turn into a blubbering mess.
That said, more rational me knows that there were many ways in which my father was a good dad, if am willing to take the time to look for them.
I have three sons and a daughter, my greatest hope in life is that they won’t have the same issues with me as a father that I did with my own dad.
Thanks again for this amazing story about how even small things we do can have a great impact, and not necessarily on those we expect them to.
I’m soon gonna turn 42 this September. My father passed away a little over 10 years ago ☹️
But guess what? Me and my roommate decided to adopt Brownie the stray dog!
Someone else adopted Patches as well.
I can’t tell if you adopted your late fathers dog, or decided to get a dog because of his passing
We adopted a stray dog from our city park. It’s only more or less coincidence that it’s right after the 10th anniversary after my father’s passing.
I know my father would have done the same, he’s a really good pup, very well behaved and pretty smart too. I believe he used to be someone’s service dog.
That’s awesome. My dog has helped me mentally so much. She’s smart but stubborn. Still wants to do what she wants even though she knows the commands
Ajahn Brahm speaks about this pain: growing pains. The suffering that accompanies development. It’s related to the realization of something. Everyone goes through it.
My aunt is very controlling, so I completely understand how you feel. My aunt wants to control every aspect of my life, she tried to rob me of my money to gain even more control over me. I feel like a slave in my own house trapped because of her. Soon I will get out of this situation but you’re not alone in that feeling you got seeing normal people doing normal things. It’s even weirder for me telling normal people of my aunts abuse because most people never seen a narcissist and this deception to gain full control. My aunt plays “I’m so worried about my nephew” but it’s to cover her abuse, so people don’t believe me.
When I read the story, I thought Dad left a three year old alone to hold their place in line while he ran off to catch the match.
I now realize my mistake, but at first, I was thinking “That’s not good, that’s horrible!”
It took reading your comment to realize that they stayed in line together. I was horrified reading the post - thinking they were choosing who would stand in line and who would go to the seats. I think there are many people who can relate to this, as parenting has become (for many) much more progressive and gentle than it was in the past. There’s a greater focus on mental health and less “do what i say” or “because i said so”. I grew up with just my mom in what i thought was a strict home. Then i met my husband who was part of a military family that followed a strict chain of command. We were probably more controlling than we should have been, but less than we grew up with in the 70’s. If my kids have kids, i hope they’ll be better. We all take what we experience and hopefully do better when it’s our turn. What kind of childhood did your dad have?
As a 41yr old childhood trauma survivor myself I have found a lot of help thru a specialist that is a survivor themselves, I’m not trying to promote them unless you’re interested but do know that you’re seen, valid and these moments will happen. Try to find your joy🫶🏻
A lot of us have stories like that.
When i was 4 or 5, i had a Tender Heart carebear that i LOVED. I took it everywhere with me. One of my first memories ever is my dad calling it “slender fart” to the point of me bawling my eyes out. He has never accepted that this fucked me up in a very deep way. The person i looked up to for protection was hurting me. For fun. I’m in my 40s now, and anything i start to develop an interest in, even to this day, comes with a sense of dread. “How can this be used against me?”
Irony of ironies, my dad now has in inoperable brain tumor. I’ve basically retired early and moved back in with my parents in order to be around if they ever need anything, which is every day. It’s crossed my mind more than once to return the favor and fuck with his addled old brain, but then, would i be any better than him? No, that misery he tried to breed in me stops and dies with me.
I’m in my 50’s. Both my parents passed this year. I didn’t go to either funeral. I felt nothing but anger at them. I did finally start going to therapy. My parents were different in their abuse but the same in that they never once in my life apologizes for any wrong they committed. It was physical abuse until I became physically stronger. Then it was nothing but mental abuse for the rest of my life. Admitting it hurts and admitting that its the source of your anger is good for you.
My parents like many didn’t “believe” in therapy. For good reason as it turns out. They knew they are guilty of abuse and feared exposure. Give it at least a couple of tries. If you don’t like the therapist you see. See another one. Be prepared to hear things you will not like. Acknowledge your pain is driving negative emotions and keep trying to not let it rule you.
The best luck is the luck you make.
