The Road Block
August 29th 2010 16:01
My first bump was when I was about 7. My little brother was born and well “that was what made our family complete.” You see, I was the “son” my father wanted. I worshipped him. I wanted to be a boy. I wanted to hunt and fish and work on cars. When I was growing up there were still roles that males and females played. But I didn’t want to cook, clean or play house. That was my older sisters’ domain. She helped mom and I helped dad. Until that day….
It really didn’t happen until I was about 10 and my brother was about 3. I had heard all the talk from dad – now I have a boy to teach. I will teach him to hunt and fish and work on cars. We will be best friends, spend a week at camp being guys. I just keep tell myself he wouldn’t forget me, we had done so much together. He wouldn’t forget all the fun we had. I would still be his “vicki-dozie” he would still mess up my hair and say “what do you think, vic, should we tear out the engine or just scrap the car?”. But, I was still being programmed by what was said. Even if we don’t listen, we hear and what we hear programs us. Am I good enough? Does he still love me? Doubt, the first bump…
Then finally the road block, no you can’t go hunting it’s the guy’s time. It wasn’t that I wanted to be a guy. I just wanted to be with my dad, remember I worshipped him. Then the recorder in my head, repeating “you are not good enough” and the other voice “uummm are you sure”. Sure! Are you kidding me, when are we ever sure. We look to others for that reassurance; I looked to my sister, who was about 12. Her advise, “get use to it”. And there is the detour, head down the road of self doubt.
It really didn’t happen until I was about 10 and my brother was about 3. I had heard all the talk from dad – now I have a boy to teach. I will teach him to hunt and fish and work on cars. We will be best friends, spend a week at camp being guys. I just keep tell myself he wouldn’t forget me, we had done so much together. He wouldn’t forget all the fun we had. I would still be his “vicki-dozie” he would still mess up my hair and say “what do you think, vic, should we tear out the engine or just scrap the car?”. But, I was still being programmed by what was said. Even if we don’t listen, we hear and what we hear programs us. Am I good enough? Does he still love me? Doubt, the first bump…
Then finally the road block, no you can’t go hunting it’s the guy’s time. It wasn’t that I wanted to be a guy. I just wanted to be with my dad, remember I worshipped him. Then the recorder in my head, repeating “you are not good enough” and the other voice “uummm are you sure”. Sure! Are you kidding me, when are we ever sure. We look to others for that reassurance; I looked to my sister, who was about 12. Her advise, “get use to it”. And there is the detour, head down the road of self doubt.
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