I’ve been working with a therapist to address my anxiety, and she’s been probing into my core values. It’s been challenging because it seems many of my values are shaped by what I want to avoid. For example, when she asked about my career aspirations, I replied, “To not lose my job.” When it came to my spiritual beliefs, I said, “To not end up in hell.” And when she inquired about my goals as a parent and husband, I stated, “To not replicate my father’s mistakes.”
My relationship with my father was far from ideal. He left my mother when I was only nine, and after multiple marriages, he succumbed to his addictions shortly after divorcing his fourth wife. I often used my hard-earned money from making pizzas to bail him out of jail. It felt as though he created families like they were franchises, each one disposable.
The divorce between my parents was tumultuous, thrusting me back and forth between homes and forcing me to choose sides when all I wanted was harmony. I have no desire to introduce my children to new mothers or siblings every few years, nor do I want them to feel the burden of raising bail money for me.
My therapist explained that when people express their values as “not statements,” it usually indicates underlying anxiety. She encouraged me to shift my focus toward what I truly want. This is where the essence of values comes into play.
For anyone with a challenging upbringing, the experience of a parental figure leaving can be a powerful motivator. I spent much of my twenties and thirties striving to not become like my father. He struggled with alcohol, so I chose sobriety. He never attended college, but I pursued higher education. He had multiple marriages, while I committed to nurturing and maintaining a loving relationship with my wife.
While this commitment hasn’t been overly burdensome, it’s important for me to emphasize that divorce isn’t an option. I’ve dedicated myself to weathering the storms of marriage, learning that commitment and hard work are essential for a successful partnership.
Reflecting on my values led me to question whether simply avoiding the mistakes of my father equates to being a good father myself. It’s a crucial inquiry for anyone raised in a fractured family. The reality is that aspiring to be better than one’s parents can feel daunting, especially when those parents were not particularly devoted. That really sets the bar quite low.
This exploration of values has encouraged me to look forward rather than dwell on the past. Every parent eventually reaches a moment where they must shift their focus from how far they have moved away from their own poor role models to the kind of parent they wish to be. This is the essence of breaking the cycle.
So, what do I value in fatherhood? I want my children to clearly understand that I love them unconditionally. I want them to feel a sense of security in our relationship. I want them to know what a good father truly looks like.
I aim for them to witness how I love their mother through my actions. In my view, love should be a verb in a healthy marriage. I want them to see us go out on dates, share thoughtful gestures like bringing her flowers, and engage in compromise. I want them to observe me managing frustrations and striving to improve. I want them to see my commitment to work, as sometimes love manifests in practical ways. I want them to hear me express gratitude in our family prayers.
It took me until my thirties to start defining the kind of father I aspire to be rather than focusing solely on what I want to avoid. I believe that encouraging my children to look forward to their aspirations—rather than fixating on what they wish to escape—will serve them well in life.
Ultimately, I can’t dictate how my children will turn out. I can’t force them to become responsible adults or great partners. However, I can provide a strong example of what a good father is, and through this, I hope to offer them far more than my father ever provided.