Part 2; What marriage has taught me: My marriage and family are my first ministry

I have been so busy lately that I have not been able to give attention to the part 2 of this series. I've received a new position at my place of employment. I have been focused on school as the semester winds down. I've tried to maintain consistent involvement with Celebrate Recovery. And there are the issues in my home; a son transitioning from a tween to a teen, dealing with a daughter with Oppositional Defiant Disorder. Much of the time that I am able to give to myself alone consists of attempts at gathering my thoughts and catching my breath for the next responsibility. 

I'm at a crossroads today. As this semester winds down I find the drive for my desire to finish school and pursue a career in the field of psychology has dwindled to down to nothing. I even find myself apathetic to the work and even the idea of graduating. Yet I have no idea what to pursue for my future. God says He has plans for me. "Plans to prosper and not for harm. So should I worry about my future?"

We all know the cliché, "Parenting is the hardest job you'll ever do."

I can't just sit back and expect God to handle everything. Of course not. I do have my part to fulfill. And at the same time I must still focus on the here and now and not lose sight of my main calling, what God has called me to do. My first and most important responsibility. That is the calling of my first ministry. My marriage. My wife. My children. Far too often this responsibility goes overlooked in spite of the fact it is something I worry about on a daily basis.

This is not the Cosby Show

Every day on Facebook I see posts from people begging for 5 o'clock to come around. Fridays I see posts from people; TGIF! Sundays I see posts in dreads of impending Mondays.

As stressful as it can be I love my job. I have the hardest to please bosses I have ever had in my working years. They are the most demanding, most obnoxious, rudest bosses ever. I have never been able to please them all at the same time.

They are the most ungrateful and unsatisfied people I have ever worked for. Their demands are unreasonable and give out impossible deadlines to meet at all hours of the day (and night). In fact, my job never ends. There is no time clock, no 5 o'clock. No TGIF. Friday never comes and every day is Monday. No holidays either.

When I blow it as a dad

During the summer months when school is out I get my 3 kids for the first two weeks of each month. So in addition to my step-kids I have 5 kids that I stay at home with during the day. My kids just returned to their mother's on this last Sunday for June's visitation. Given their ages, having all 5 of them is nothing short of chaos. Three hormonal tweens with attitudes, (one is oppositional defiant), a sensitive 7 year old and 5 year old who is definitely her own person with as many one liners as a blockbuster comedy.

Having all 5 of them together typically means my time is pretty much stretched for whatever activity or task that needs to be done. More kids means more laundry, more dishes, more one on one times, more together time and less personal time. I feel like Snow White caring for my own set of seven dwarves.

Remember your Parental Rights

Even if parental alienation is not recognized in your state as abuse, it doesn't mean you are without defense. Parental alienation or even any similar form of abuse is not technically recognized in most states. However, this doesn't mean we are without means of defense and offense in the midst of our awareness and causes to make this form of abuse legally recognized.

When PA is technically not going in our favor in our cases, it as a whole can be broken down into its elements dissecting it. Exposing it without making it look like a "witch hunt" as many want to paint it as.

It seems one of the biggest mistakes we make as parents when fighting for our children is focusing on technicalities and technical terms. We cannot overlook that PA is a downright violation of civil rights as parents and our children's as well. Civil rights that are protected by the First, Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments of our United States Constitution.

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil...my fight against Parental Alienation/Interference

This is one of my long posts and I ask that you stick with me on this one. If you read just of one post on my blog I'm glad it's this one in particular. 

There is a textbook definition of parental alienation (PA) that doesn't give it justice. One that describes its many features as, "a set of behaviors that are harmful and damaging to a child's emotional and mental health involving the mental manipulation and/or bullying of the child to pick between their mother or father. It deprives children of their right to be loved by and showing love for both of their parents and extended family. A parent uses alienation/interference tactics to hurt the other "target" parent. They deny access to anything that may challenge their view of the other parent, including any photographs, or any form of communications." It most often occurs in high conflict divorces.

Its results...damaging psychological effects with severe opposition to contact with one parent and/or hatred toward such parent as a result.

A Father's Miscarriage

Father's Day is approaching. For many it's celebrated. For new dads it's that long awaited finality as if it's that stamp of completion..."you've arrived, welcome to the club." Father's Day is a bit more complicated for me so I don't think much of it. You would think I would considering how big of a father's heart I carry. Then again I'm not big on holidays where appreciation is the expectation.

As much as I cherish all of my children, biological and step, being with them and even crossing my mind when we are not together, shortly before Father's Day my mind begins to remind me of the three I do not have.

I think, and I may be wrong, that most people view miscarriages as something that only affects women. Contrary to that perception men in a devoted relationship are impacted by such an event; especially three of them.

Looking back I see that for the most I didn't let myself grieve like I should have. Loss due to death has seemed to have shown up frequently throughout my life. The first experience, we were in our teens. We weren't prepared or mature enough to handle something like this. Teenagers, young, scared and excited. You're in love. Well, you think you are.

Pole dancing: sport, recreation, or vocation...who will decide for us?

I've never been a sports fan, nor a fan of dance. So maybe I'm not the right person to rant about this subject. I don't know rather to laugh about it or think, "what nerve?" I don't even really know why this issue gets on my nerves. Maybe it's the motives behind the scenes. Yea that's it. It's not about sports or dance, or even the Olympics.

I never cease to be amazed how some people try to make something more than what it is. We even dress up the names to make them sound more sophisticated and inviting. I recently read an article regarding the attempt to make pole dancing one of the Olympic sports. WHAT?! So I looked into it.

A petition held in London quotes, "After a great deal of feedback from the pole dance community, many of us have decided that it's about time pole fitness is recognized as a competitive sport and what better way for recognition than to be part of the 2012 Olympics!" I didn't realize there was this "community" of pole dancers. Talk about jumping head first.

Apparently dancers with a pole are now no longer "pole dancers." They are "athletic artists" or "aerial dancers." What a nice way of calling something, something it's not. They need to make up their minds. Are they dancers, athletes, strippers, fitness, or what? Cuz there's going to be a lot of confused lonely men out there. There's even a U.S. Pole Dance Championship. But that's been around for a while. Even more surprisingly, there actually is currently a bid to enter pole dancing as a test sport in the 2012 Olympics in order to make it official for the 2016 Olympics. And many people thought including the trampoline to the Olympics was a stretch.

Who Am I?

Wow, who am I? This was actually an easy question for me to answer. I have bipolar, but I'm not a label. I have Parkinson's, but I'm not a disease. The reference in my blog title defines me and I'm happy with that. I'm a Recycled Dad. I hope it's ok, but I used the following from previous posts that I had actually wrote about who I was. I edited it though to fit the format for this contest, but none the less, it is true to answer the question.

Think about what recycled means: "to reuse or make available for reuse for biological activities, to adapt to a new use, to bring back, to make ready for reuse." Ask any number of divorced dads and step-dads you're sure to get a consensus, "recycled" is how we feel..."reused, adapted." Out with the old and in with the new. Roles and relationships are redefined when it comes to biological children in spite of the fact they shouldn't be. They are your children. No one should be allowed to tell you your limits. But when the mother walks away it produces cause for change.

Step-parenting produces its own special line of challenges of feeling recycled. You wrestle with the question, "are you recycling your role as a father to your own children?" "Are you recycling your role as a father and trying to replace their father out of some need to fill that emptiness that was created in the divorce?"

Exhausted Recycled Dad

This past weekend visit with my kids was a complete disappointment. I was so exhausted I was planted on the couch most of the time I was able to be home with them. Much of that time I could hardly keep my eyes open. To top it off, I worked all day Saturday, which probably has a lot to do with me being worn out on Sunday.

Exhaustion: it's one of those hidden, non-motor symptoms of Parkinson's. One of those symptoms where people say comments such as, "You look fine." If they know you enough they see the exhaustion in your face. I feel blessed to have had the many friends at work ask me if I was feeling ok. It means they've come to know well enough to tell something is different as well as show their concern.

My concern though, is that I short am changing my kids and our relationship during the limited time we get together on their weekend visits. I'm going to have to adjust my work schedule again. There's no doubt about that. Working all day long on Saturday is just too much for me. Besides, after only getting to spend the better part of Sunday with my kids after church on my weekends I want to anyway. That's just not enough quality time with them.

My oldest didn't feel well, so he laid around most of the time as well. My two little ones though played as normal. I feel guilty watching them play outside and run around. You would think I would be able to just suck it up and join them. But the exhaustion and fatigue is relentless. Parkinson's exhaustion is not the same as that of without Parkinson's. It is a deep exhaustion so life draining, the idea of collapsing is almost appealing. Rolling your body over to one side takes more energy than you have so you refuse to even try. Even holding your eyes open takes more work than you can muster up.

And even more guilt ridden, I see my wife do all the work all weekend while I sit or lay on the couch. She does a great job while I at the most ref an argument or show my "ogrely" daddy rule enforcing self.

I get cranky and do my best not to get snappy. Most people get cranky when they get fatigued. Try not to be pissed at your chronic illness when it's the cause. You go through the stages, Parkinson's has 5 and I differentiate among 3 and 4,  except you go through them over and over, every time it flares. The exhaustion is a reminder of each one. I get angry and disappointed.

I understand no parent can protect their child from each and every disappointment. Like the little things we adults try to convince ourselves of when we quote, "Don't sweat the small stuff." But when I see the disappointment on my son's face when I tell him for one reason or another that I can't ride bikes every single time, I could make a list of the negative emotions I feel. We have other activities we enjoy together. Mostly sedentary. Not the active one's we would like to do. But none the less things we can do.

The more I involve myself with others dealing with Parkinson's I've learned it comes with this oppressive chronic condition and it knows no boundaries. When it comes to exhaustion we bear the burden of the following, all of which lays upon us a heavy weight of guilt.

• Not being physically able to do "everything" all other Fathers can do
• Not being emotionally stable enough-due to slowness, tremor, instability-to handle loud or hectic days-resulting in outbursts, short tempers or actions; all of which I'd love to take back
• Sometimes physically unable to run, play outside--usually it's a choice I don't have a say in where to expend my energy, work or play
• Sometimes I live in a "fog," simple tasks like reading and writing are difficult, which is why it takes me so long at time

These things can wear me down. Most of the time I can do a good job of burying it and pretending it doesn't affect me. Out of 5 only one of my kids reacts out of concern. I feel as if I give more of myself to my job than I do my own kids. Rest at home to expend my energy at work while the kids get deprived. And I as well. Deprived of their time and presence.

This is no "poor pitiful" me. My concerns are the kids. It's always about the kids. They are young. Exhaustion is invisible. I can feel it. They can't see it. They live with it just as much as I live it, but in a different way. Quite the contrary is it feeling sorry. I had my time when I let things get me down and that was in the past.

Instead of beating myself up for being sick, I should will use it as a parenting advantage - not to beat myself up over it. The fact is, given my personality, I wonder if it wasn't for the Parkinson's if I wouldn't be as engaged as a father. After all, it is because of it that I'm lucky to be a stay-at-home dad.

There's a saying, "The days are long, but the years go by quickly." I haven't been a parent long. My oldest is 11. But gosh, 11! It wasn't long ago I was rocking him to sleep, or rocking my middle one, or changing my daughter's diaper. And I can't believe my wife and I have been married over 4 years now. So I must engage myself in my kids lives in the here and now and not worry about what might or might not be.

I don't stress a lot. I'm not a stressor. I do like to prepare for the future. For a long time now I've been trying to get my wife to start a savings for emergencies and one so we can move out of this town. I prefer to plan meals a week ahead of time. We all have medical and life insurance. And I don't worry about our future. What I do worry about are our relationships. Maybe I worry too much about them instead of doing something about them.

You could ask me, "Do you think you are a good father." I don't know. I try to be. I guess I would answer, "Ask me when they are 20, I won't know 'till then."

Parenting with Parkinson's: It's not as easy as you think I make it look

One of my many facets as a Recycled Dad is living with Parkinson's. More specifically as a dad, parenting with Parkinson's. I'm realizing it's more challenging as my symptoms continue to progress.

When people think of or hear of Parkinson's, especially in my case young onset Parkinson's, their last thought to come to mind is "parenting." More thought or attention is given to the caregiver or partner of person with Parkinson's. It comes with focuses on their spouses burn outs from care giving, disappointments, fear of a bleak future and high divorce rates.

School's almost out for the summer and the kids are excited. They've already laid their demands on me and proclaimed their expectations. "Why isn't the pool up yet?" (It was still April and in the 60's and 70's!) They're excited and can't wait. Ready to play. Summer months means that for each of the three months I get my three kids for the first two weeks of them. My wife's kids and my kids love it because they get to be together longer. They get to watch TV, swim, jump on the trampoline (that's another of our demands, order a new jumping pad), stay up late, sleep-in. What was I thinking? Our kids don't sleep in!

I shaved my mustache for this?!!

My wife and I were having this discussion about this article I had read the other day and I got to thinking about one of the comments she made in response.

I was complaining about those insulting articles written by women about men about how to shop, act, dress, behave, comb your hair, stand up & sit up straight, say, "yes, ma'am, no ma'am." No I made last those three up. Seriously though, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Those TV commercials, sitcoms, and women's advice articles to men for this and that.

Her response: "Well, if men would listen to their wives." Mine: "Whoa, whoa...I don't agree. I think if they wouldn't tell us so much stuff to do we wouldn't either forget it or get it jumbled up."

For a while now more and more so called "advice" articles instructing us men and fathers on the do's and don'ts on each and every holiday as if we are incapable bumbling idiots who aren't even allowed to succeed before we are deemed a failure.

Here's how they generally go: buffoon of a man, usually a husband, struggles to have a clue as to what something is all about. Sure enough, an all-knowing woman (usually the wife), rolls her eyes and shaking her head in pity, is there to help the stupid buffoon of a man not utterly ruin everything. And, by the way, did I mention that the man is ignorant? In an alternate version, the children who are all-wise, and they help the idiot father figure things out. And of course we’re all supposed to laugh: “Ha, Ha, Ha look at that stupid guy. What an idiot!” The pivotal role of every sitcom.

New Year's we're told how dress and don't embarrass you at dinner or the party. Valentine's we're told what to buy, where to buy it, what to wear, where to take you, where not to take you, etc and don't embarrass you. Thanksgiving and Christmas we're told when and we are going and what time to eat. And it's not that we men don't welcome your advice and suggestions. We just don't want to be talked to and treated like a bunch of dim-witted idiots.

A Dad's Point Of View: A Real Dad Is Only As Happy As Their Least Happiest Child

I warn you, this is another long post. But I believe it is well worth your time. It's going to focus on many issues and I hope it doesn't jump around. Any good parent is only as happy as their least happiest child. I can only speak from my personal experience and heart. 

One of my favorite songs that I literally take as a prayer to God is "Lead Me," by Sanctus Real. It is a real prayer written by the bands lead singer written out his heart after he and his wife had been experiencing a period of distance and misunderstandings between themselves and their children.  A few words of his prayer made into that hit song goes:

”I see their faces, look in their innocent eyes
 They're just children from the outside
 I'm working hard, I tell myself they'll be fine
 They're independent
 But on the inside, I can hear them saying...
 Lead me with strong hands
 Stand up when I can't
 Don't leave me hungry for love
 Chasing dreams, but what about us?
 Show me you're willing to fight
 That I'm still the love of your life
 I know we call this our home
 But I still feel alone”
 So Father, give me the strength
 To be everything I'm called to be
 Oh, Father, show me the way
 To lead them
 Won't You lead me?"

I'm More Than Pretty Nails and Pretty Toes to my Daughter

Def Leppard was blaring. Why I even had that in my media library I don't know. But that's what she wanted to listen to so I let her. She had this planned since the morning. How could I say no to her desire to spend time with just dad while expressing her own self?

 

She picked the perfect timing. Today I actually had the time and here lately I have felt convicted about not spending enough, if any at all, time with the kids. I give myself so many projects that I in addition to all my other required obligations, work, etc., that I'm gone much of the time in the evenings and when I get home I wind up spending the majority of the time in my bedroom.

Stupid Articles and their Stupid Titles for Stupid Parents

I wouldn't consider this one of my rants, but I came across a collection of numerous articles I found both ridiculous and absurd making them quite humorous. Some were flat out moronic. I thought to myself, "are they serious? They actually think they are being informative?"

What's worse, they are about parenthood. Ok, now that I think about this it will sound be more of a rant from my soap box. I don't like to write what seems so negative of a content so close together because negative is not what I am. But if there are two things that really get on my nerves and infuriate me, this collection of articles captured them with grace. No wait, come to think of it there's three things in this collection that infuriate me.

As mentioned it's a collection of articles about parenthood and children. Many of, if not most of, the articles are written by journalists who have no children nor expertise in child rearing. Hello!! "Yes, and while you're helping with my 4yr old who still isn't potty trained will you help me understand why E=mc²?"   I know blogging and online journaling can fun and so can being informative, but giving someone a spot in an online magazine or journal doesn't make them an expert in any field....well, unless they were already and expert in that field.

You're not the trophy dad you think you are

I have to warn you before you start reading. It's rather long and it's one of my rants slash soap box writings. In light of some recent events that I have grown fed up with I thought I might as well share my thoughts here. I  hope you make it through to the end. I would be even more grateful if you would comment.

"They sow the wind and reap the whirlwind. The stalk has no head, it will produce no flour"... Hosea 8:7

In the beginning of my hopes as a father I had dreams of seeing my children leave my home sometime in the future. Just not as close to the future as I had hoped for. What I was looking for was something more of sometime after they graduated high school and maybe off to college or just venturing out on their own in responsibility. But that wasn't the case.

What the case was, was them being taken by mother and moving almost 100 miles away and me being able to do nothing about it, leaving me at me the time alienated from my children. A far cry from my hopes and dreams being fulfilled. Dreams of having a day to day relationship. Dreams of raising my children into responsible adults. Instead I became a "weekend-dad."

Trying to be a father to my own children and my step-kids, within boundaries but even that's questionable, is literally the hardest thing I've set out to do. No matter what I do, each day I continue to feel I have never done enough. Everyday I'm without my kids I think about wanting to be with them. Each day I am with them I think how I don't want it to end. But I'm always reminded they are just visiting. I hate that word.

Mental Father? "Sad Dad"

I...in a fleshly tomb, am Buried above ground--William Cowper

I've been a stay-at-home-dad for most of my kids lives since their births 12 years ago. My youngest is 5. Even though my own 3 kids live with their mother and my step-kids are 10 and 12 here, and in school, I still refer to myself as a SAHD. I don't have infants at home with me during the day. Unless you count the cats. They act just as needy if not spoiled. So when the kids are out of school or home I'm with them.

Because of the Parkinson's I only work a part-time job while I spend my days taking care of the home. My days are routine; monotones. Days run into each other with sleepless nights spent writing. Mornings are coffee with the gathering of laundry and the usual items left out. It's almost like an Easter egg hunt except they are hidden in plain sight. Then there's the kitchen, and anything else that needs to be done....chores and non-chores.

It makes for lonely days, especially after 8 hour long sleepless nights. Long lonely nights. Maybe I should start talking to the cats. They seem to listen the most.

If you type in the words "depressed father" in your search engine to try to find any kind of resources to help yourself cope with depression as a father good luck. What you will find is link after link to countless sites and articles with "research" on how depressed fathers are more likely to spank their kids and how detrimental they are to them. The lingo: "Sad Dads" & "Hit Learning." As if a silently struggling father isn't already grasping for answers.

I searched site after site and they were all the same...negative. Some were downright accusatory. As if it's inevitable and one will have no say in the matter. One was titled, "If dad's sad, he spanks." Non were positive in support. Then I searched postpartum depression and it was like night and day. If I was a woman I would be basking in a sea of endless resources as a mother. I wouldn't be "sad dad" who uses "hit learning." I'd have the "baby blues" and sisters and friends would come from miles to help with the kids. I would have no problem finding any book dealing specifically with women and motherhood depression.

The Incredible Shrinking Brain

Sometimes I think my 7yr old is wiser than he realizes. He says some off the wall things that I don't have any idea where he gets them from. The other day he made me laugh with the statement, "When you get mad, your brain shrinks." "Son, where did you hear that?" "I don't know, I just made it up." At first I blew it off as one of his silly sayings, but then it dawned me, there was more than just truth to what he was saying.

Want to make me angry? Make me have to repeat myself over and over. Don't even think about denying or pretending you didn't know you were or weren't supposed to do something. That's the quickest way to infuriate me.

"Go to your rooms!"..."What did I do?"..."You know exactly what you were doing!"..."No I don't. What were we doing?"..."Seriously? I heard you both wrestling on the couches. There's pillows all over the floor. The remotes are in the floor. Go to your rooms!!! How many times have you been told not to wrestle in the living room?"..."He made me. I kept telling him to stop."..."Don't start with me. I heard you laughing and giggling from the room!!!!!!!!!"..."GO TO YOUR ROOMS!!" By now I've lost my temper and at least one is crying.

I'm angry. I justify my anger with this act of blatant disobedience and lying. The kids are upset, frightened, and confused. In my mind I defend myself placing the blame firmly on the kids. After all, they were wrong. They had been told countless times not to wrestle in the living room. Besides, this wasn't the only incident where they had been told some over and over and they disobeyed. Not to mention, if they had just owned up to their fault and accepted the consequence my emotions wouldn't have sky rocketed. And hey, I'm the one trying to keep things from getting broke in the living room...AGAIN. Within seconds I walk away in guilt.

Final: Hated Father

It is fatherhood which makes childhood possible.

One of the last scenes of the movie Saving Private Ryan really stands out to me. If you recall the scene where, as an old man, Ryan is standing with his wife at the grave of Capt. John Miller surrounded in a field of white crosses. He was the platoon leader who, along with several other men that gave their lives to see that at that time private Ryan safely return to his family who had already lost his multiple brothers in the war.

Ryan seemingly overwhelmed by a number of emotions kneels and as if they were standing face to face tells him he's never forgotten those last words, "Earn it," the captain spoke to him as he slipped away after receiving a fatal wound.

Ryan turns to his wife, catching her by surprise and seeking true affirmation asks her, "Tell me I've led a good life. Tell me I'm a good man." Confused but honest she responds, "You are."

Pt. 3 Hated Father

Your involvement in your own children's lives has been reduced to "visitation." At least that's what the orders on the court papers state. It's on paper. On one sheet that is. You get your kids on "these" days and "those" days of the month. If you want them more, well, you have to pretty much "ask permission" from their mother; because no matter how you word it "visitation" is the same as "loan."  Can it get any more demeaning than that? I assure you that it can.

I suppose no one looks in a mirror and sees a demon looking back? When a person demonizes another, it evidently frees up their own conscience to justify almost anything. Imagine that the person who hates you the most controls the people you love the most. Think of control in a broad sense. It's affects spread like a plague and everyone in your life responds in one way or another. That's the side effects of false child abuse allegations.

Pt. 2 Hated Father

*This is not anti-woman, mother, female or even ex-wives. It is anti-child abuse, gender bias, stigma, and parental alienation.

"Hello, my name is Michelle (fake name), I'm with the Child Protective Services (CPS) of Oklahoma Department of Health Services. Can I can come in for a few questions?"

After a year of my ex-wife conjuring up excuse after excuse to keep our kids from my visitations including at one point moving without telling me where for a few weeks. I had to track her and my kids down. This investigation became the first of 5 total investigations against me. That visitation, or intrusion, occurred three months after I remarried and three months before my ex-wife remarried.  I later discovered, during that investigation, that before we had even divorced, at the time her soon to be husband's mother had already been referring to my ex-wife's and my kids as "her" soon-to-be-grandkids and even had pictures of them.