Selfless Consideration

My mother and father argued constantly. On alcohol soaked weekends things got intense. I wasn’t mature enough to understand why it took place and I didn’t care to know. I just wanted it to stop. In retrospect, I believe that my mother had some serious psychological issues that were never addressed. Seeing a beer in her hand signified the beginning of an anxiety filled night. My father also drank nearly every day of his life. I think of him as a gleeful, happy-go-lucky guy who doesn’t take things very seriously at any time. At least that’s what I thought until I realized that he has been faced with crucial decisions in his life, like anyone else. I don’t consider him flawless; however, I am grateful that he did not hurt my mom whenever she lost control of herself. There are not very many people that would stay in a relationship like that. My dad chose to stay. Obviously, he didn’t welcome my mother’s irrational behavior, but he must have considered what kind of life my sisters and brother and I would have faced without him.

As a child, I was unaware of the negative consequences of growing up in a home where arguing, hollering, or raging were common events. A teacher’s abrupt voice would startle me, the neighbors would talk about us, and my friends would make fun of my parents. I soon learned to keep friends away from my house. The only people I trusted to come over were the ones that had trouble at home as well. Ultimately, my circle of friends was lined with troubled characters. That led to years of hanging around with the wrong crowd and making some pretty bad choices. When I saw fights at school my heartbeat raced. I became frightened of things that weren’t even a threat to me. Although I didn’t understand it at the time, I placed little value in myself. My self-esteem was suffocated by shame.

As a teen, my father’s concern for me was a benefit I was unable to appreciate. I got in trouble at school and my dad was there to bail me out. I used my father’s car to help some friends get away from a robbery of a man’s house. We got caught by the police and were taken downtown. Again, my father was there to bail me out. When I was still in high school, I left home without telling my parents. I hitchhiked from El Paso to Phoenix. Sooner or later, I would have to return home. I was lucky to be alive and to have a home to go back to. When I got back to the house, in the middle of the night, my father came in to my dark room and touched the blanket where my leg was. I just couldn’t see how much he cared about me. I had so much to be grateful for, but I focused only on myself. In the middle of my turmoil, I didn’t consider where I would have been without my dad being there.

I spent a big part of my life making decisions using common sense that may have been distorted at a very young age. I wasn’t much different than any other rebellious teenager who was just trying to figure things out. I wasn’t asking anyone for help, because I didn’t think I needed it. My father must have known because he was relentless in my rescue; he never gave up on me. Because of his support and encouragement, I had a chance to grow up and to keep out of trouble. I was fortunate to have time to experiment with foolish endeavors and still have an opportunity to raise a family of my own. That time isn’t given to everybody and, as in my case, it’s not always recognized for what it is: unconditional love. To be given so many chances, after causing so much trouble, was nothing short of my father’s unyielding faith in me. He afforded me the time I needed to find myself and get my act together.

My father could have left us for his own peace of mind. Instead, he chose to provide us with a home and raise us as a family. He gave us all a fair chance for goodness sake.