How I Learned to Love my Father More

And, in the process, love myself more too

This is my first paid substack article, and there will be more to come. As I show more of myself here, my posts, I’m sure you have noticed, have become increasingly personal and intimate.

This one touches on the most sensitive parts of who I am. I hope to reach out, with my heart, and touch your heart. There is a free preview, but most of this is behind a paywall. If no one pays, I can live with it, because this process was valuable for me.

I think that seeing how I worked through this relationship, over the course of many years, will inspire some of you to dig more deeply and work to show up more authentically in some of your most challenging relationships.

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My relationship with my father defined the first 30 years of my life, at least. It is probably still defining it, as I step into fatherhood. He passed away in September 2021, 5 months before the birth of my first son. I was 34 years old.

As a man, the archetypal father holds tremendous influence in my psyche, something I downplayed until recently. When I began to earnestly examine my patterns and tendencies, it became clear that I was repressing a deep desire to be closer to my father.

I told myself I wanted nothing to do with him, that I did not want to connect with him when the inverse was the deeper truth: I yearned for fatherly connection, and I saw my father as so inherently flawed that I repressed my genetic need for a relationship with my father. I was ashamed of my father, and of where I came from.

There were many turning points in the story with my dad. I’m not proud of the way I showed up always. But, as I worked to become more whole and more aware, I tried to show up more intimately and authentically with him, and the rest of my family.

This is the story of how I learned to love my father better and love myself more in the process.

The Elephant in Our Living Room

My dad was overweight. Very overweight. That was the story for my whole life. He earned his living as a stand-up comedian and achieved relative fame and status opening comedy clubs and performing sold-out shows. Seriously. Whatever you’re thinking, he probably weighed more.

The earliest memory I have recalling my father’s weight was when I was 4-5 years old. I remember kneeling in front of the fridge in our family home in Maple Grove and talking with my mother. We were going to my paternal grandparent’s house the next day, and my mom was letting me know that my dad wasn’t going to be able to come. I still have no idea why I responded the way that I did:

“Why? Because he can’t fit through the door?”

I cringe thinking about myself saying this in response. I imagine it was part attempt to make a joke and also part confusion about his size combined with real curiosity about how he managed to move through the world. My mom, from what I recall, did not appreciate the comment. I don’t remember exactly what she said, but my takeaway was that:

1. Talking about my dad’s weight is not okay

2. Don’t ever talk about it, seriously