After a period of worry that I had somehow caused his breakdown, I began to worry that I had inherited his “illness” and I would grow up to follow in his footsteps.
Many of us have been wounded by our father’s lives. For some we experienced abuse growing up. For others we dealt with neglect. Many of us were abandoned physically or emotionally. For most of us, we wanted a more loving, connected father than we experienced. Many of our fathers died too soon. The first wound
It isn’t easy being a man (or a woman) these days. Roles are changing. The world is changing. It can feel like the very foundation of who we are has been built on an earthquake fault. Just when we think we can walk around safely, the ground begins to move and we are knocked off
My involvement helping men and their families began for me on June 12, 1965 when my father came to my college graduation, an encounter I described in Part 1. Although I hadn’t seen him since I was a child I recognized him immediately. I went looking for him when I came off the stage, but
I grew up with a depressed father and became a depressed son. My father took an overdose of sleeping pills when I was five years old, following years feeling anxious and depressed because he couldn’t make a living as a writer and actor. He didn’t die, but I lost his presence growing up. I grew
It’s been a long journey to come to peace with my father’s life and how it has impacted my own. I was born on December 21, 1943 in New York City. My parents had tried to conceive for many years, but had been unsuccessful. They finally were successful when my father was 37 and my
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