Therapy Part 2: History and Growth

At times I would think I was on the verge of a break down after the age of thirteen, which is when I started writing. I would hear how crazy the family was, know what was going on in my head and wonder if perhaps I was finally showing signs of insanity. Even so, I always went back to just coping.

 As I did what mom had told me, I was also dealing with another issue. My father and I were at odds.  Many young men find themselves dealing with this issue. Men try to live up to some idea of what they think their father thinks they should be, fall short and then try again. They learn about mechanics, hunting, fishing and life from the old man and eventually come into their own. That’s not how it went for me.

I can’t put my finger on the exact moment I realized that I would always disappoint my dad, but it was early. Maybe it was when I said no to little league or when I refused to play any kind of ball. I couldn’t catch, throw, kick or run very fast and so I simply opted out of standard sports. I was strongly built from the waist down, but weak in my upper body which is probably not a trait a dad wants to see in his last son. If I got in the water, I sunk like a rock. I didn’t understand the workings of machines, I didn’t get sports at all and I was not a physical kid.

I remember asking him one day about baseball. “So, the guy throws the ball and the other guy tries to hit it? Why?” I don’t think I have ever seen a man get so annoyed in my life. Well, I have but it was always my dad and it was always at me. I decided early on that if I was going to disappoint dad, I simply wouldn’t try to do things that would please him. I would choose my own path, and I did.

Dad had his own way of dealing with my rebellion. My dad was a minor politician here in the Pasadena area and he had access to various local celebrities. After I started writing, he called a publisher here in the Houston area and had him come to one of his meetings at a Chamber of Commerce. After the meeting the man met me and I excitedly told him about how I wanted to write. He looked at my father knowingly and said “Son, no one wants to read what you will ever write. I know I wouldn’t publish you. Write for fun but get a real job. Otherwise you will die alone, broke and miserable. So start thinking about what you really want to do with your life.” I was devastated and I resented the hell out of my dad at that point.