Excerpt
Present
1. My JourneyNo young man wants to grow up to be an absent father.
As a dad to two young kids, and as a son who never had a close relationship with his father, I know this to be true.
But I also know that men never dream of being absent fathers because of my years working with men who, for various reasons, grew up to be just that: fathers who rarely, if ever, see their children. Men like my friend Sean, who, after personal struggles that landed him in jail, turned to the nonprofit my wife, Samantha, and I founded in 2011, called Fathers’ UpLift.
Sean’s father hadn’t been around much when he was a kid, and Sean never learned how to process his emotions. He harbored lots of anger and self-doubt into adulthood, which resulted in a slew of challenges, including interactions with the criminal justice system. Following his release from prison, Sean remained captive to the shame and guilt he felt over his stalled relationship with his own children. He wanted to be present in their lives, and though he couldn’t figure out how to make that happen, he had the wherewithal to know he couldn’t do it alone.
Through hard work, and sometimes sheer force of will, Sean learned to forgive himself for his past mistakes. He took important steps to heal from past trauma and engaged in the hard work that would ready him to reach out to his children. It wasn’t easy, and there were many moments when Sean doubted whether he’d be able to succeed. But I’ll never forget the moment when Sean finally picked up the phone and made the call he had dreamed of for years.
What would he say? Would his son be angry? Would Sean be confronted with rejection? The anxiety had taken a toll and roiled him with self-doubt. He couldn’t help but imagine worst-case scenarios coming true. But I stood by Sean, coaching him along each step of the journey. Practicing with him what he’d say. Preparing him for a range of responses. Giving him tips about how to process what would surely be a flood of emotions after he made that call, regardless of what happened.
The big day finally arrived.
We were sitting in my office, a phone on the table. Sean picked up the receiver and tensed up as he dialed each digit. The line rang. Sean said hello. And just like that, all the stress and fear and shame seemed to melt away.
“Dad, I missed you, man!”
Tears ran down Sean’s face.
Sean told his son how much he loved him, too. How he had missed him every day they had been apart. The words didn’t come easily to Sean—it’s difficult to express years of love and regret and longing in one phone call—but the feelings he sought to convey flowed freely.
“I love you,” Sean told his son.
There would be more work ahead. The counseling and therapy would continue. I’ll talk about that in more detail later and explore the work I engage in with other dads like Sean. But in that one moment, Sean took an important step and, as a result, one more child had a father back in his life.
The relationship between sons and their fathers has been written about in many books. The lessons Dad taught, the challenges he overcame. How to love your father despite his flaws, or coming to terms with a relationship that might not have been perfect but was still important and helped make you the man you are today.
This isn’t one of those books—at least not when it comes to my own life, pieces of which I’ll share throughout the book. That’s because my story is saturated by the lack of a relationship with my father. I yearned as a child to know deeply a man I saw just a handful of times in my life, and almost never for more than a few minutes at a time. A man who captivated my mother and who held a firm grip on my imagination. Despite this lack of relationship, my father, or more accurately, his absence, nonetheless shaped my life in profound ways.
Because of my father, with whom I share a name but little else, I sought love in places where love wasn’t to be found. My longing for him caused me to lie when people asked where he was, and it’s also because of him that I let anger get the better of me at different times over the course of my life.
But in some ways, it’s also because of him that I earned a doctorate in clinical social work and co-founded the nonprofit organization that helps men like Sean be better dads. I have chased excellence and success my entire life, and it doesn’t take an advanced psychology degree to see that some of that drive stems from not having my father in my life.
My father may be something of an unseen character in my life, as well as in this book, but he somehow still exerts an influence over me and my work in profound ways.
I have a lot to say about fatherhood and fathers, even if I can’t write a whole book about my own. Instead, I remember the people who stepped in to father me when my actual dad seemed to want nothing to do with me. My mom and my aunts. My cousins and my brothers. The men at church who taught me how to tie a tie and how important it is to look another person in the eye when shaking hands. The professors, coaches, friends, and mentors who stepped up when I needed their help. These are the people who taught me lessons that I still use today in my work at Fathers’ UpLift.
I will also introduce you to some of the men who have turned to Fathers’ UpLift for help, and who have turned around their lives and gained the skills to be present with their children. Many of them did not have a father figure in their own lives, and thus did not have role models. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be good dads. Sometimes these men have been written off by society, but we always take a deeper look, applying lessons from my time in the classroom to figure out: How can we help them in their journey of learning what it takes to be good dads?
As I wrote this book, I returned again and again to my experiences in classrooms, as both a student and a teacher. The transitions I’ve made from student to educator, and eventually to college-level instructor and founder, have left a profound impact on my journey.
The principle that attracts me most to teaching is the idea of lifelong learning. The value that accompanies being a perpetual student resonates deeply with me. The best educators recognize that every student ardently craves knowledge and strives to excel, even when it may not be readily apparent. I keep this belief close to my heart, and it’s a mindset I bring to my work as a social worker, a CEO, and a father. In these roles, even though I’m not working inside a traditional classroom, I see myself as an educator. The subject? The art of self-parenting and fatherhood. My “students” are eager to master these subjects and succeed in their roles. For many, I might be the first teacher that ever believed they have the capacity to excel.
But what about students who aren’t putting in the work or who aren’t even showing up? As you’ll read later in the book, I was one of those students earlier in my life. But luckily for me, one professor took time to ask me what was going on after I missed a few classes. When I explained that I was juggling life with a newborn and sharing one car with Samantha, we found solutions. I was able to keep studying. I’ve never forgotten that, and I try to apply the same mercy to the men who turn to us for help but who aren’t always where they’re supposed to be. Similarly to any classroom, men who want to be good dads may be absent for various reasons, many of which remain concealed until we take the time to understand their lives beyond the classroom. Grasping their reality is crucial in guiding them back to the learning environment they desire.
As an educator, I try not to judge or penalize students the first time they miss class. Instead, I try to understand their circumstances. This same principle shapes my work with fathers. I seek to comprehend the reasons behind their absences and understand the underlying factors contributing to their challenges in parenting. This approach serves as a means to explore diverse experiences, beginning with my own, while leveraging my perspective as both a learner and a teacher.
One of the most gratifying aspects of being an educator is realizing that your students are also teachers in their own right. As a teacher, I embrace the chance to learn from my students, whether in a traditional classroom, a counseling session, or a group meeting. Throughout this book, I present insights into the numerous educators, literal and otherwise, who have taught me, and distill these experiences down to a lesson that I apply in my work to support other fathers as they work desperately to get back into the classroom. There’s no lesson I share that I haven’t gained from a gentle teacher and applied to my own life.
Before getting to particulars, it’s important to understand the state of fatherhood today, and the impact that not having a father figure has on children.
