Oh Father.

Sometimes as a writer, I have to strip down and really bare myself. I mean this figuratively of course, so no need to dial the tznius police. Ayayay, here goes.
I am currently estranged from my father. It is his choice, not mine. That is a fact neither party could dispute nor protest, as is the reason: I am not the person he wants me to be. Before you think it all boils down to Judaism, I can assure you that I am a failure on many fronts in my father's eyes. In short, his love is conditional, and when I fell short of meeting those conditions, I lost it.
This is the second time in my life I have gone without my father, the first being in high school after my parents' divorce. Then, I handled it with Madonna, alcohol, and shopping. I don't think I have to explain that none of those things filled the void. Funnily enough, what I have learned this time around is that giving-not consuming-is the only action that helps. Because I know the pain of a lack of unconditional love, I am determined to bring more of it into the world.
It sounds completely backwards, as in a physical sense, anything I am lacking should be severely conserved. But that is the beauty of true blessings: love, healing, peace, understanding, etc. Even if we find ourselves deficient in any of these, we can conjure up more to give. Anytime a foundation is created, or a bill is proposed, people are using their experience with illness or tragedy to bring good into the world.
I wanted to open up and share my struggle because I know how tempting it is to take a passive approach to pain. Every situation in our lives has the power to transform us into better or worse people; it's all in the approach. I've made a choice to actively and unconditionally love others, even when I may not like them. In this way, I hope to live up to my true Father's expectations.
cbg