Mark Thomas Campbell, esq. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aussielawyer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2016-11-15 12:14 pm
aussielawyer) wrote in muserevival2016-11-15 12:14 pm
132.3. Private First Person
Supposed to be
The only greater agony in this world than knowing your child is hurting, is knowing you contributed to the pain. Only a parent truly understands that any pain they ever felt before, doesn’t even reach how you feel when your kid is suffering. The burning ache that you would literally die for them to stop never fades.
You’re supposed to be the best parent you’re capable of, and knowing you failed feels like an inexcusable fate. There are no excuses. There is only getting your fucking shit together and fixing what you screwed up. When my son first came to find me, I thought I had to do whatever it took not to cry in front of him. I thought he needed some sort of cookie-cutter perfect father figure who had all his ducks in a fucking row to make up for the time lost with him.
He never needed that from me. I soon learned that it’s impossible not to cry when your kid is in pain. My boy has had more in his short life time than most with ever have in decades. There is no instruction manual they give you when they tell you that your kid is mentally ill. You can Google that shit all you like, but there are no guidelines on specific kids. I screwed up more than I can admit. And this time, again, it put his life on the line.
How does he even still want me in his life? Yet he still reaches out for me, and again, I cry for him. I cry for his pain, I cry because I can’t take it away. I cry because I can’t switch places with him. I cry because he doesn’t want to keep living. I cry because the demons in his head make him believe he’s not beautiful, or amazing, or worth the care and love he should have in endless supply. But mostly I cry because he keeps getting back up, no matter how battle-weary he is, and he keeps going. He does it without turning into an arsehole, and he does it without harming other people.
Being a father isn’t all glamour and cutesy baby things. It’s not all posting videos of babies cooing and believing you’re a perfect candidate for a World’s Greatest Father mug. It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you will ever do, and it puts your own issues on the back-burner forever. It is even more difficult when your child is ill. When they look at you like they want you to wrap them up and take all the hurt away. It breaks you when you know you can't.
It’s okay to cry for your kid. In fact, if you don’t, there’s something wrong with you. You’re not always going to get it right. I envy those parents who don’t fuck it all up in a major way, and I wish every moment of my life that I could turn back time and never do the things I did. By some ungodly miracle, my kid still loves me. He still wants me to be his dad, and he still wants to be hugged and reminded he’s not alone.
The time for wallowing in my own shit is gone. I slipped, my focus blinkered back to myself, and the consequences were horrific. None of this is about me, Mark Campbell, with a questionable history of many notches on the bedpost and flying by the seat of my pants. I’m Mark Campbell, the dad, with two kids who are part of me and more important than anything else in this world.
No matter what it takes, my kids are never going to look at me again and doubt that I’m there for them any time they need me… and all the times they don’t.
MARK CAMPBELL // Original Character
The only greater agony in this world than knowing your child is hurting, is knowing you contributed to the pain. Only a parent truly understands that any pain they ever felt before, doesn’t even reach how you feel when your kid is suffering. The burning ache that you would literally die for them to stop never fades.
You’re supposed to be the best parent you’re capable of, and knowing you failed feels like an inexcusable fate. There are no excuses. There is only getting your fucking shit together and fixing what you screwed up. When my son first came to find me, I thought I had to do whatever it took not to cry in front of him. I thought he needed some sort of cookie-cutter perfect father figure who had all his ducks in a fucking row to make up for the time lost with him.
He never needed that from me. I soon learned that it’s impossible not to cry when your kid is in pain. My boy has had more in his short life time than most with ever have in decades. There is no instruction manual they give you when they tell you that your kid is mentally ill. You can Google that shit all you like, but there are no guidelines on specific kids. I screwed up more than I can admit. And this time, again, it put his life on the line.
How does he even still want me in his life? Yet he still reaches out for me, and again, I cry for him. I cry for his pain, I cry because I can’t take it away. I cry because I can’t switch places with him. I cry because he doesn’t want to keep living. I cry because the demons in his head make him believe he’s not beautiful, or amazing, or worth the care and love he should have in endless supply. But mostly I cry because he keeps getting back up, no matter how battle-weary he is, and he keeps going. He does it without turning into an arsehole, and he does it without harming other people.
Being a father isn’t all glamour and cutesy baby things. It’s not all posting videos of babies cooing and believing you’re a perfect candidate for a World’s Greatest Father mug. It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you will ever do, and it puts your own issues on the back-burner forever. It is even more difficult when your child is ill. When they look at you like they want you to wrap them up and take all the hurt away. It breaks you when you know you can't.
It’s okay to cry for your kid. In fact, if you don’t, there’s something wrong with you. You’re not always going to get it right. I envy those parents who don’t fuck it all up in a major way, and I wish every moment of my life that I could turn back time and never do the things I did. By some ungodly miracle, my kid still loves me. He still wants me to be his dad, and he still wants to be hugged and reminded he’s not alone.
The time for wallowing in my own shit is gone. I slipped, my focus blinkered back to myself, and the consequences were horrific. None of this is about me, Mark Campbell, with a questionable history of many notches on the bedpost and flying by the seat of my pants. I’m Mark Campbell, the dad, with two kids who are part of me and more important than anything else in this world.
No matter what it takes, my kids are never going to look at me again and doubt that I’m there for them any time they need me… and all the times they don’t.
MARK CAMPBELL // Original Character