Failure

What is the nature of failure? What defines failure?
 
No, this isn't another post about how much I hate myself or my life. Really, I'm just asking questions and positing the truth. So, before you say, "Here we go again," relax. This isn't another I-hate-my-life post. It's just an honest assessment.

A child has many people to look up to. But, a child also has many people telling him (let's assume it's a boy for our purposes) he's wrong. Tell a child this often enough and he becomes angry or sullen. And then he assumes he is always wrong. How do I know this? I was that child. In fact, I am still that child, and those same people who told me I was wrong back then still tell me I am wrong today. In fact, I feel I've never been right about anything. I've been swimming in a sea of wrongness my entire life!

On a fairly recent and random Saturday, I realized in many people's eyes (or, potentially, if they have all the facts), I am a failure. I try not to see myself this way. I know I have my faults, but, wow. Seeing yourself through someone else's eyes is not always a healthy thing, therefore, I don't like to indulge. But, like holding a mirror up to your face, it's hard to ignore the facts. 

So, let's indulge for the sake of this post. 

I'm 41 (which is okay by itself). I'm divorced (which screams failure). I have a wild child (I'm working on it, though). I work for my parents (ouch). I'm terrible at my job (which is more than anything else kinda funny to me). My attempts at relationships stretching back as far as I can remember are 1) lackluster 2) disastrous 3) she didn't even notice. Truly, even as I sit here, I have no relationship prospects. Somehow, I feel I should be farther along at this hoary age. 

A man can be proud of many things. First, men are achievement-driven. So, clearly, what a man does for a living matters a lot to his self-image. I don't care for my job, and I will most likely go back to a retail-type job after leaving here. I hope I choose something really wacky, though, like joining a secret agency that looks for persons of interest. That would be cool. But I know I won't. 

Men like having solid, dependable people around them. So, having a faithful wife or life partner fits the bill. Also, children who do what they're supposed to do and don't embarrass. Friends who reinforce who a man is (or what he thinks he is, which is actually more important than who he really is). I have none of those things! Also, a place in the community. Meaning. Purpose. Those are all great. I don't have any of those things either. 

I saw myself for what I really am. I'm a failure in the eyes of the world. A big, fat failure. That's okay. It doesn't hurt. But I'm doing my best, which is all I can really ask. My son's actions tell me I'm a bad father. My ex's ... oh, let's not get on that crazy train again. My parents constantly reinforce my feelings of failure. Not only that, but they subvert how I'm raising my son, which is infuriating. I try to be vigilant, but I seem to be the only one interested in how he will one day turn out. I'm not raising him with now in mind. I'm raising him with the future in the mind. Things don't look pretty, and maybe I'm too hard on him sometimes, but it's better to do it now than later. My ex, well, we're trying to be on the same page with raising this kid. My parents constantly tell me I'm wrong. Big or small things, I'm always wrong. Especially with raising their grandchild.

All of the things that a 41-year-old man is supposed to be I am not. That was an ugly sentence but an even uglier sentiment. No wonder I'm so eaten up with insecurity. My life hasn't been easy. I mean, I haven't made my life easy. I made a lot of dumb decisions. But, the last few years have been a corrective course. I hope that continues. 

It's true, I would like to go back and change some things. I can't do that. No one can. All I can do is start here and now and chart a better course. But I've proven I'm really bad at that, so, really, I've just thrown my hands up and sat down in the corner. There are things I have to do. I have to go to work because I have bills. I have to raise my son to the best of my ability because that's my most important job. I have to eat food and at least try to sleep. I have to listen to God. Beyond that, I'm not going to test the waters anymore. 

Here's the nature of failure. It's about control. A child doesn't have control of his life. Much of his life is chosen for him. Gradually, he takes control. But my parents are control freaks. My ex is a control freak. My son is a control freak. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say I'm a control freak, too. Only it feels I have no control over my life. That's why I'm a failure. Too many cooks in the kitchen maybe. And now the floor is sticky and the oven is smoking and the beans have burned. Did I carry that metaphor too far?

So, when my son throws a tantrum, I feel his pain. No, I'm not going to cut him any slack. But I can see what he's doing. He wants control. But he can't handle having control of EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE. That's a surefire disaster. He has to get it little by little and gain confidence in order to not feel like a failure because he bit off more than he can chew. 

How do I allow him to fail in a safe environment and help him see how he could have done better? Because there is no way I'm going to change his nature. I'm just fighting him when I try to do that. There are times when what I say is absolute. When we cross a street and have to wait for cars, I tell him to wait. That's important so he doesn't go out in traffic and get maimed or die. That's not what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about giving him choices so he can make his own decisions. That's not in the realm of obedience. Clearly, I want him to listen and obey me. But, with smaller decisions, he can start to grasp control. He can make decisions, learn from them, gain confidence, and make even better decisions in the future. Allowing him to fail is hard, but it's better now than later. Later, the consequences are so much less forgiving.

See, what I'm doing here is playing The Corrections. My parents were control freaks. I didn't learn things I should have learned growing up so I made disastrous mistakes (my relationships with girls is a great example). They were surprisingly cavalier about some things yet inexplicably controlling about other things. My life after I left their home is a prime example of what happens when a kid who is used to having choices made for him suddenly makes his own decisions. The alcohol, the bad choice in female companionship, the jobs, the education — all bad decisions. There was a surprisingly small number of good decisions, in fact. It's like I filled out a life-success questionnaire and just marked "No thanks, I'd rather fail" on everything.

So, I have to let my son fail. But in my presence. With my guidance. He wants to make his own decisions, so this should be easy. But it's hard. We want to protect our children from unkind consequences. But consequences teach them, especially with hard-nosed kids like mine who are undeterred by spankings and talking things out and everything else I can think of. I don't want my kid to be a failure. I want him to learn quickly what works and what doesn't. The best way for him (though perhaps not all kids) to learn is by doing. And sometimes failing. I wish someone had done the same for me. A little freedom with guidance. Talking about what worked and what didn't. Instead, it was either top-down directives or a free-for-all for me growing up. What happens when those life directors are no longer there to direct your life? And what happens when you're free to make decisions all by yourself? Well, you screw up like I did because you aren't accustomed to making decisions.

I'm not sure how to raise this kid. What worked (or didn't) for me, will not work with him, that much is clear. I'm a fairly gentle man. He is a brute, a rocket, a bulldozer. I am mostly calm and controlled. He is wild. I can sit and listen and learn from someone else's mistakes. He has no time for that. With him, I must try a different tack. Maybe he'll show his old man up someday by having an awesome life and all of those things I never got. I'm looking forward to it.