A Longing for Loving Connection

We were on our way back hiking down the mountain when I shared something with my friends that I hadn't ever shared with them before. The fact that I was molested as a child by my first stepfather. 

They were quiet for a moment, then apologetic and comforting. Even though I had written about it here in this space, it wasn't something I had ever told them directly. I had told Robby a long time ago, my best friend who passed away recently, but I guess it was easier to write about it over the years, and discuss during therapy, than talk about it with my friends. 

We've told each other a lot of things over the years, just not this, but I trusted my friends and felt it was time to be vulnerable and share this traumatic life experience with them. We continued to walk down the hill in silence after I shared this experience, and then one of them said:

"So, I guess you really can point to the place on the doll where he touched you."

Awkward laughter. Relief. Release. And yet another inappropriate exchange between dear friends of 45+ years. But we do care for each other and share a close brotherly love, through all the years of relentless teasing and non-family friendly humor. We shared a lot over the years, warts and all (but not genital warts -- that's a joke, kids). 

This hike we took was part of a recent weekend spent grieving and celebrating our friendships and relationships with each other and our dear friend, Robby. We started planning a memorial for him and put a long playlist together in his honor (which we're targeting for May 31 in Visalia, CA). Music has always been a big part of our lives and each of his adding songs that impacted our lives and his was a lot of fun and cathartic. Thank goodness we've invested in these connective-tissue times together over the years that has deepened our bonds. 

Because unfortunately, too many of us are lonely and depressed these days. According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), about 1 in 3 adults in the U.S. report feeling lonely. And about 1 in 4 U.S. adults report not having social and emotional support. 

According to another article specifically on male loneliness: 

Research conducted in 2021 by the American Survey Center reported that 15% of men claim they have no close friends, a 12% increase since 1990. Additionally, Equimundo published a study in 2023 that found a majority of men from Millennials to Gen Z agree with the statement, “No one really knows me well.” In the same publication, a majority of the men said they only have one or two close friends they feel comfortable confiding in outside their family.

And the research goes on and on and it impacts all generations and backgrounds. Unfortunately, too many men turn to toxic masculinity, deriding women and other marginalized groups as a way to deflect from the turmoil and loneliness inside that desperately longs empathic love and support. As I wrote in one of my recent articles, I grew up with an abusive birth father and stepfather and swore that I would never be that way. 

I've struggled with my own loneliness and depression over the years, unable to express how I feel and ask for what I need, but eventually I become an empathic advocate and an ally for men and women alike. My wife has been my greatest advocate and whose friendship I'm deeply grateful for. She's helped me normalize love and empathy in my life, and in turn, I've done the same with our children and my friends. 

But it's these recent times I've spent with my friends, including before Robby passed, that reminded me of how grateful I've been to have these and many other positive male friendships. Even when we don't talk see each other very often, we check in with texts and occasional calls. Each of us talked with Robby at least once a week in recent years.

I hope our children find these types of positive and supportive friendships that are meaningful and nonjudgmental, that make space for vulnerability and understanding, especially when loneliness and depression blinds the heart's optimism and a longing for loving connection. 

Other past posts about and related to these friends of mine:

• Superman's Love Letter
• Men of An Influencer Age
• Making a Dent
• Men of a Stand-up Age
• Men of a Vulnerable Age
• Endless Possibilities Actually
• Able-Bodied Grateful
• Men of Our Present Age
• The #MeToo Guys
• Men of a Women's Age
• Men of a Consequential Age
• Grown Men Friends and Fathers
• Like Men Knowingly Bound to Their Future
• Because That's How It Works With The Guys That Work
• Big Heart Love to My Class of 1984
• Men of An Unremarkable Age
• Being What Happens Next
• Daddy Day in Monterey

Sweet And Sour Nothings

No spoilers, but mercy me I cried, and I laughed, and I cried some more. That's not unusual or hard for me; I'm certainly a crier (and I like to laugh). For Father's Day weekend last week, we all went to see Inside Out 2. Perfect movie to see with your teens, by the way. It's not a dark snarky mess like most shows and movies targeting teens today. If you and your kids liked the first one, you should like this one, too. Especially if your kids are teens now. 

Again, I won't give anything away that hasn't already been in the previews. New emotions are introduced including Anxiety. Once Anxiety takes over, then all bets are off for the main character Riley and all her other emotions. 

That's what got me the most. That once we hit adolescence and our pre-frontal cortex, hormones, and more enhanced levels of awareness come online, anxiety is right behind them whispering sweet and sour nothings into our ears. I had more than enough of that when I was a teenager (into young adulthood) and don't wish it on anyone. Our children have had their share of adolescent angst as well and that's always hard to see. 

With all the love and support we've given our children since they were born, it's hard to watch them struggle with their own anxieties at times. My wife Amy and I remind each other that they are teens; it's normal developmentally. As I wrote a few weeks ago after attending some local graduation as a school board member, I remember how our kids (and many others) struggled with isolation throughout the pandemic. In fact, every student speaker at the graduations, from elementary to middle school to high school, shared that same sentiment. That even though our kids have healthy friendships, their brains and bodies are developing rapidly, and the stress of feeling liked and included is excruciating at times. That they are more aware than ever of the world's volatility around us and how social media scrolling demons can haunt them day after day. 

Yep, anxiety knows how to throw us off with those sweet and sour nothings it whispers in our ears. Or, screams in them, prompting a panic attack. Whether you see Inside Out 2 or not, anxiety's sweet and sour nothings are with us for life. All we can do as parents is be there for our teens and offer our grounded guidance, love, and support. We can help them understand that they can learn to live with and manage anxiety their entire lives. I know I need that reminder from time to time. 

To Understand the Differences

It's not badge of honor, that's for damn sure. No child who becomes an adult looks back fondly on growing up with divisive divorce, or domestic violence, or sexual assault, or abuse, neglect, or violence of any kind. And yet, too many of us have had those traumatic experiences early in our lives (and later, too). And many of us, like my wife and I, have pledged that nothing like that would ever happen to our children. 

Growing up Generation X in the 1970's, it eventually became a social media badge of honor decades later to be proud of the fact that we never wore helmets when riding our bikes. And the fact that we stayed out past dusk without any adult supervision. And the fact that we never talked about something bad that happened to us back in those days. I didn't talk about it until I was in my early 20's. 

Again, we've pledged that nothing like that would ever happen to our children, and while we don't have control over what happens to them outside of our house, we do inside our house. So, it's hard to hear from them when they talk about some of the things some their friends go through inside their own homes. 

We empathize and talk about it with our kids, that we don't always know exactly what's happening with people, but the fact is that divorce is real, and domestic violence is real, and abuse and neglect are real, and how the ensuing stress and mental health issues are quite real.

But when more kids are willing to share the trauma they're experiencing at a much early age, or attempt to share as best they can, the new normal perception is the experienced trauma, even if it's just a subset of friends. Our kids care about their friends, but what we don't want is for them to feel bad because they haven't had the same traumatic experiences. 

In fact, while they should listen and be empathetic with friends who have experienced trauma, or are experiencing it, we encourage them to be grateful for the fact that they are not. To be grateful that they have a supportive and loving family that communicates with each other, free from judgment and shame, which in turn can help them be better friends to those who do struggle.

Even a supportive and loving family won't negate the teen angst, heartbreak, and seemingly traumatic issues our kids have struggled with, and will continue to grapple with, into adulthood. But we do want them to understand the differences we work hard to ensure they do and don't experience, and how they can help others along the way.

Reciprocal Ripples

"You guys judge too much," Bryce said to us at our latest family meeting.

"I don't think we do," my wife Amy said. "We try not to."

"Yes, you do," Beatrice said. "Like about Trump for example." 

Fair enough, I thought. But c'mon.

"Your dad and I talk about current affairs and things that affect our family, yes, but that doesn't always mean we're judging," Amy said. "Sometimes maybe, but not always."

"What about other people we know," Bryce said. "Like family or friends."

Ouch. Not fair.

"There's a difference between talking about someone we know and care about, than simply dumping on them because we wish them misery," I said.

"Still judging," Bryce said.

"No, it's not."

"Well, what about The Masked Singer?" Beatrice said. 

Funny. And true. But in a entertaining way. The Masked Singer being the singing competition show where famous contestants dress up in elaborate costumes and sing and a celebrity panel (and the audience) try to guess who they are. It's a family favorite of ours. 

"That's different," Amy said. "That's fun judging -- and a fun show!"

"Still judging."

Sigh.

When the girls were little, we knew they didn't pick up much of what we discussed out loud near them or in front of them. But over the past few years, they definitely pick it all up. If they do overhear, and ask us questions about what we're talking about, we do our best to give them context and clarity about why we're saying what we're saying. 

And while we don't deny we've been judgy at times about what we've discussed in front of our children, it's never done out of malice. Anger and frustration sometimes, but never malice. This is why we've worked on as adults and parents is finding joy in the success of others, of those overcoming obstacles and improving their lives and mental health, and more, and how we can help or support their success (you might have heard the German word Freudenfreude that means this). In other words, what it's like to have empathy. Something our girls remind us of every single day with their own actions (their sassy words are another story). 

As opposed to deriving pleasure and joy from someone else’s suffering or misfortune (you might have heard the German word Schadenfreude that means this). Why do so many long to see others fail? Get thoroughly excited by it even? Especially when political leaders, sports figures, actors and musicians, and others closer to home like family and friends, fail. Why? Because it can make someone feel better about themselves, about their own situation? Yes, it can. I know, because we've been there. 

But not anymore. (Mostly, we mean. We are human after all.) No matter what happens, we'd rather celebrate the personal wins of others and how we can all pay it forward in kind to others. Reciprocal ripples that buoy our interconnected souls. 

Yes, I just wrote that. No judging. 

The Greatest Reward of All

Watching his grown daughter congratulate him for all his hard work and success, and thank him for pushing her to always do her best, to being such a positive supporter of her life and life choices, made me think of what that might look like someday with our own daughters. 

One of my dear friends from high school recently retired. At least, from the career he had for decades at the same company, which isn't as common as it used to be, not with average tenures, even with promotions, being much shorter. 

This friend listened to me provided with with supportive counsel during some very dark times my senior year in high school. He's one of a handful of people who have kept our collective friendships going for over 40 years. The last time we were all together was early 2020, pre-covid, and I couldn't wait to see them all when we were invited to his retirement party with his family and colleagues. We've put the work in to sustain and grow our friendships over the years, so it was a pleasure to be with most of them again. 

Listening to his daughter speak about her father gladdened by heart. My wife Amy sat next to me and I thought about how we've put the work into our relationship. How we've been loving and supportive of each others ups (and downs), of our careers and life choices, of how we manage our emotions and positive communication every day and encourage our daughters to do the same. How we're positive supporters of their lives and life choices. We're still the parents, and they're still the children, with us imparting parental guidance and positive discipline when necessary; we want them to ultimately live their best lives as adults. 

Because we live our best lives every single day, and even when self-doubt creeps in, as it has for me lately, we choose empathy and love over cynicism and self-criticism in our personal and professional lives. Because for us, the professional and personal are inextricably linked. 

And the reality is that things don't always go as we've planned. Like programs I've developed for the organization I run that I was so sure about that just didn't take off. Personal writings that I share each week that I feel just don't resonate with anyone. The cynicism and self-criticism creeps in. That's what I've been struggling with lately. 

But I still put in the work to work through it because the work never ends. There's a new song from the band Twenty One Pilots that I love called Mulberry Street. There's a lyric in it that goes "keep your bliss, there's nothing wrong with this, we just want to feel it all." That truly hits the mark for me these days. 

Feeling failure on any level isn't an endgame; how it's perceived and processed inside is what can bring a new framing. One that should lead to looking at the why upside-down and then trying again right-side up. That's part of doing the work; there's nothing wrong with feeling this way or that. As long as you feel it all and enrich yourself with what's next. 

Keep your bliss, there's nothing wrong with this, we just want to feel it all.

Someday when our daughters are grown they will congratulate us for doing the work, keeping our bliss and for empowering them to do the same, and that legacy will be the greatest reward of all. 

Stars to Shine

"I wasn't praying for magic
I was hiding in plain sight
Rising up from the surface
To fly into the light, into the light..."

–Rush, Sweet Miracle

Sometimes I think as parents, we don't really want to know when our children are going through something difficult. Something wrought with emotional and psychological discomfort that they can't articulate. We may sense it, and it may even manifest itself in ways that are undeniable. But if they don't talk about it, if we don't talk about it, then maybe it will go away. Will work itself out. Will be normal. 

That doesn't mean we don't care about our children. That we don't love them. Of course we do. And of course we ask, "What's wrong, sweetie?" Because we want to be there for them, to resolve whatever angst might be strangling them. Regardless of their age. 

Because pre-coronavirus, they were usually out of the house more during the day, especially if you have school-age kids like we do. They were around a lot more people during, friends and teachers, and if they were in any extracurricular activities after school they were around even more kids and adults. Being exposed to life lessons and positive and negative stressors all around. Life as we knew it. 

Decades earlier, my mom and dad were supportive and loving parents, and yet, I never felt comfortable sharing the turmoil inside me that grew dramatically during my teenage years. As a child, part of my heart had collapsed like a star turned black hole, sucking the light from my eyes no matter how hard I tried to stay positive. As my awareness of the world around me, and inside me, grew, and my reactions to that awareness, the black hole's gravity expanded. Although I just wanted to be liked, I didn't like myself much, and those feelings of unworthiness, vulnerability and weakness only isolated me more. Rife with anxiety and panic attacks, I never shared any of it with my parents. They did notice something was wrong, and they did ask, but I never talked about it. So they never pressed. Until one day at the end of my senior year in high school the black hole burst open. Decades later light, so much light. 

They had no idea. Didn't really want to have any idea, which again, didn't mean they didn't love me and want to offer me support. They just wanted me to be happy. And normal. God knows they had their own collapsed stars haunting the skies of their adulting lives. 

It's been six months now since COVID-19 changed our lives forever. And is still changing them. Out there is a pandemic, economic devastation, divisive political polarity, racial injustice, social unrest and more. In here are families like ours, locked down together, fearful of the future, limited in what we can do, distance learning for school, camping together for vacations, no other extracurricular activities, missing distant family and friends, and "podding" with other families to stay safe and virus free and to have some social interaction in so much social isolation. Researcher Dr. Brené Brown calls this Day 2, the messy middle -- the point of no return.

We are all in the messy middle now and we have no choice but to continue going through it. Hopefully we'll all come out in Day 3 better for it. And thankfully these days as parents, there are many more of us who do want to know when are children are going through something difficult. Who empower our children to be able to articulate the emotional and psychological discomfort they're experiencing. Who encourage them to safely share, without judgement, while we listen and provide parental counsel. And who are so proud of them when they come up with their own resilient ideas of what they need to adapt and thrive. 

We are with them all the time, and no matter what we're going through as adults today, we want to save them from adulting doom, their own potential black hole implosions. We only want their stars to shine through their eyes and in our skies. 

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

Loving Community Wide Shots Abound

A Foundation Worth Saving

This Hit-And-Run Thunderstorm

Help Prevent the Back-to-School Bullying

Memories Now and to Come

Especially Our Kids

This Old "No" Guy Jedi

Choose Eyes of Love

The Morning Work

We Shared Blue Genes

Agree to Disintegration

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To