Father’s Day is here, and with it the inevitable articles and posts about how awesome all of us Dads are, how great it is to be a Dad, blah, blah, blah. Yet, when I take stock of my friends who are Fathers, the vast majority of them are not out there skipping for joy. Many of us are struggling, mightily. Why? Because while being a Dad is awesome, being an adult sucks.
For the past four years, I’ve found myself in a downward spiral. The pursuits that have given me the greatest satisfaction have taken a backseat to this thing called “adulthood.” A steady job, trying to keep up with bills, insurance, car payments, rent, taxes. “Adulthood” seems, in our society, to be purely about getting more money so we can spend ever increasing amounts on things that give us no happiness whatsoever. And the only reason I’ve gone into this “adulthood” thing is because that’s what I’ve been told I need to do in order to be a good Dad.
In 2011 I raced the Tour Divide. Just prior to leaving for Banff, I was told, “You can’t keep doing these things. You’re a Father now. Adam needs you. Grow up!!!”
Since I love my son dearly, I took that to heart. I got a steady job, a car (with a car loan to match), insurance, and all the trimmings of “adulthood.” Or as many as I could manage to afford in San Francisco, which aren’t many. Bike riding, photography, non-profit volunteering and adventures took a much smaller place in my life. While I have been fortunate enough to have done bikepacking trips like the Lost Coast, Oregon Outback, and Desert Ramble, my lack of time, fitness and money has made for a decreasing ability to do enjoy those trips. With each one I come back less happy, more frustrated, injured, and financially broke than the last. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t have the income to fix or maintain the bicycles that I have, let alone go anywhere. I simply can’t afford to shoot or develop film, and my list of injuries gets longer and longer.
A great many of my friends who are fathers fall into this same category. We have massive financial concerns. With little time to spare, escaping two mornings a week for a one hour ride becomes a major accomplishment. We don’t really know what we’re doing, are no longer the people we used to be, and are desperately trying to figure out how to be happy while also being the best fathers we can be for these kids we love with our entire hearts. As my friend Sean Larkin so eloquently wrote recently:
“I am so sad and so lonely and so unsure of how I can balance these strange circumstances and responsibilities on my plate, to be the dad, the coparent, the son, the brother, the business owner, the professional colleague, the friend, I want to be. I dread the unwitting Father’s Day posts tomorrow, the “we’re proud of you” posts, when I am not proud. I am just in love with this little 23 pound person, and overwhelmed and uncertain and committed.” – Sean Larkin
For some time now I’ve found myself with a permanent stress headache that often spirals into migraines, depression, bitterness, 15 lbs of extra weight, increasing amounts of debt and a complete lack of faith that the future will be any better. All of which I can trace directly to the decisions I’ve made in the pursuit of becoming an adult. How, exactly, does this make me a better Dad, again? I don’t see it.
The reason I don’t see it, not just for myself but for many of my friends, is that it doesn’t make us better fathers. What kind of example are we setting, giving up our joys, our senses of self, this way? Will we be able to teach our children about happiness if we have none ourselves? What about hope? Faith? Adventure? Curiosity about what else is out there, past the phone screens and fucking Youtube videos?
How do I teach my son about love when I’ve turned myself inside out into something that I loathe? I can’t, and Adam deserves so, so much more than that.
This Father’s Day, of all the days of the year, is as good as any to hit the big red reset button. No, I am not going to default on my car loan, quit my day job which I actually like, or go have a dumb midlife crisis. I love the woman I live with and have no interest in fast cars, anyways. What I am going to do, though, is to pick a a few goals that are purely, selfishly, mine and pursue them. They will involve bikes, dirt roads, dusty tracks, cameras, sunsets, friends, camping, sights old and new. Make no mistake, I’ll also keep trying to be as good partner, Dad, employee, son and friend as I can. This isn’t a move to become a selfish jerk. No, it’s just an attempt to carve out a little time to be who I’ve always been: Me.
Should you be one of us, lost in the downward spiral of trying to be something you aren’t because that’s the sacrifice we’re supposed to make to be a Dad, consider this an invitation. Pick a day dream or two that makes your heart race a little faster and go after it. Get back to being yourself. If we are lucky, if we play our cards right, maybe next Father’s Day each of us will be able to not only say that we are the Fathers our children deserve, but we’re also the people that we always wanted to be.