Seeing My Father Through Exhaustion

I’ve been exhausted lately. Not from doing — just from holding.

And in that exhaustion, something unexpected cracked open:
I started to see my dad.

Not the version I’ve held onto — the one that was distant, shut down, unpredictable — but the man underneath. The one who probably felt this same weight. Who wanted to give his kids something real, something safe, something present… and didn’t know how.

He didn’t have the support.
He didn’t have the language.
He didn’t have what I have now.
Even though he was married, I think he felt completely alone.

Maybe that’s what broke him.
Maybe that’s why he started to believe that staying away was the lesser harm.
And maybe he hated himself for it.

I’m not him. But I feel him now. I understand — in my body — what that kind of weight does to you.
And even though I’m doing things differently, I’m starting to soften in how I remember him.
Not to excuse — but to understand.

I have more support. More tools. More capacity to reflect and repair.
And that difference matters.
But the root emotion? I think we might have shared it.

Reflective Question for You:
What might you begin to understand differently about someone in your life — not through thinking, but by feeling something similar?