Turning off the light

I am finding it very difficult to be this adult, parent-like person everyone wants me to be.

Check that: this adult, parent-like person people hope I aspire to be.

I can’t adjudicate with regard to how to parent or dispense fairly, with respect to children. I can’t separate myself from judgmental to empathetic when someone has greatly disappointed me. I lack empathy to someone who is doing wrong, and my emotion indebtedness has left me, because of history, to question every thing this person says or does. I can’t give advice without wanting to also hand down a punishment worthy of the mendacity laid at my door.

I don’t think I’d make a fair parent. I’m wise, despite periods of frailty and immaturity, but I don’t think I can wield the specter of parenthood as a apt as others have or should. Perhaps this in itself lies the growth aspect. One can’t be told he’s a good father or father-figure, but has to experience the path. Parenthood is a road, not a destination.


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