It Goes Both Ways
That latest little empathy break through (last entry) made it a lot easier to see my dad for father's day.
Even though I had those familiar "If you knew me, you would hate me." thoughts.
I realized ironically, I don't know him and I "hate" him. I say it in quotations because it is thawing.
He actually shared some of his past. I never knew he was really good at gymnastics when he was younger and would have joined the team, but his mother forbid it fearing he would get hurt. Like paralyzed hurt.
I knew that he worked out and was very strong in his prime, but I never knew he also had super hero agility.
He said it was scary the first time he did a flip, let go of the bar completely and landed on his feet.
Wow...
I asked him wasn't he afraid of landing on his head?
He answered that you were afraid to take your first steps as baby.
I replied, well then you blindly trusted your parents.
He said he had his coach spotting him and telling him when to let go.
Again wow...
Then I analyzed his relationship with food.
He was laughing about his monster portions, and I asked him if he grew up hungry because he was poor.
While he did not starve, he had rations pretty much. Just enough.
His mom split a can of soup between him, his brother and sister and they each had half sandwich for lunch.
However, his best friend could have whatever he wanted and he would go over there and pig out on cookies.
Yeah it all makes sense now.
Why food is such a magical indulgence and why he is in survival mode still after all these years.
Sadly, he doesn't seem to make as strong a connection. In his mind he just loves to eat.
He is working on not eating himself to death, slowly.
But still takes too much glee in his addiction.
While boasting that he never got tangled up in drugs, alcohol, cigarettes or even caffeine.
Addiction runs on both sides of the family.
Food addiction is a real thing and it can kill you, even if he doesn't take it seriously.
Even though I had those familiar "If you knew me, you would hate me." thoughts.
I realized ironically, I don't know him and I "hate" him. I say it in quotations because it is thawing.
He actually shared some of his past. I never knew he was really good at gymnastics when he was younger and would have joined the team, but his mother forbid it fearing he would get hurt. Like paralyzed hurt.
I knew that he worked out and was very strong in his prime, but I never knew he also had super hero agility.
He said it was scary the first time he did a flip, let go of the bar completely and landed on his feet.
Wow...
I asked him wasn't he afraid of landing on his head?
He answered that you were afraid to take your first steps as baby.
I replied, well then you blindly trusted your parents.
He said he had his coach spotting him and telling him when to let go.
Again wow...
Then I analyzed his relationship with food.
He was laughing about his monster portions, and I asked him if he grew up hungry because he was poor.
While he did not starve, he had rations pretty much. Just enough.
His mom split a can of soup between him, his brother and sister and they each had half sandwich for lunch.
However, his best friend could have whatever he wanted and he would go over there and pig out on cookies.
Yeah it all makes sense now.
Why food is such a magical indulgence and why he is in survival mode still after all these years.
Sadly, he doesn't seem to make as strong a connection. In his mind he just loves to eat.
He is working on not eating himself to death, slowly.
But still takes too much glee in his addiction.
While boasting that he never got tangled up in drugs, alcohol, cigarettes or even caffeine.
Addiction runs on both sides of the family.
Food addiction is a real thing and it can kill you, even if he doesn't take it seriously.