Category Archives: Life as it Is

What No One Ever Tells About Being A Single Dad

It’s been a while since I’ve written, but my heart has been on this web site. Much has transpired, which I want to share as I have time. But I came across a listing of things that someone not being a divorced father likely would not realize. As I read them I picked out those that apply to me and put my own description.

  • People will give undue credit to your ex.
    People assume only mothers shop, cook, clean, and discipline.
  • Everyone will have an opinion about you and raising your kids alone.
    People are people and they will talk and have opinions on your failed marriage. They will lay blame, even without knowing the facts. You’ll get looks from the mothers at school people at church and everyone in between. Regardless of the truth, you may as well have a nun walking behind you ringing a bell and chanting ‘shame’ with your every step.
  • People will stare when you act silly with the kids.
    As a new single father, I was more aware of those around me and watching me. We usually ate a home, but when we ate out or went to a park or any activity, I suddenly became aware of other men alone with children. I wondered if they were single, and if other people looked and wondered at me being alone with mine. We did some awfully silly things occasionally, things usually only children would do or that only parents would do at home. One sunny afternoon we bought fried chicken and side dishes, gathered up plates utensils and glasses, and took at portable table and chairs to a highway overpass. We set up on the overpass directly above the traffic, table cloth and all, and had lunch. My son and daughter didn’t bat an eye. Cars honked and people stared. It was memorable.
  • It doesn’t pay to hide your feelings.
    No one told me that during separation and divorce I would be an emotional trainwreck and be in denial about it being permanent. I lied to everyone about how happy I was. If I had the capacity to be honest with myself back then, things might be different. Or perhaps not. When in the throws of the hardest time of your life, you have to experience everything yourself. Humility is necessary to be a better dad and a better you.
  • Being a divorced parent may even make you a better parent.
    Counterintuitive, but true. If you’re a divorced dad, whether with split custody or just visiting hour rights, you get a break from your kids. A reprieve from the kids makes you more appreciative when you are with them. (That’s a trite way to say that every waking hour from your kids you’re still thinking of them and planning your next time with them.) This in turn translates to being a more patient, forgiving, and caring parent. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, adoring, caring, loving, tender, affectionate, sympathetic, attached, devoted ….
  • Exhaustion becomes your middle name.
    Work, church, planning, cooking, shopping, and preparing for your kids’ visit, then being with them, and all the emotion of this new life takes a tole.
  • You won’t be lauded as a superhero.
    No one ever told me I was a “superhero single dad” or anything even close to it. Only single moms to get that title. You have to be proud of yourself in isolation.
  • Your social life will inevitably take a hit.
    Because my ex was a stay-at-home mom, and because women are naturally more social, nearly all our dating and family activities were planned by her. When we separated, suddenly my married friends were gone. My social life skidded to a halt. I hate little time to date, especially because I had my children every other weekend. I might have been able to do things with some of my old buddies, but I’d be taking them away from their wives. And I was focused on my children so there was little time for a social life. It was years before I had my first serious relationship beyond a few dates.
  • Sometimes, doing it all on your own kind of sucks.
    You’re doing it all on your own–holding down a job that can work with your children’s schedule, cooking, cleaning, school work, disciplining, preparing lunches, doctor and dentist visits (I chose to do them as much as I could (one more excuse to see them), and trying to find someone to date who doesn’t care that you have kids, and more importantly, that can appreciate that your children are your focus now and will still be important in the future.
  • You won’t be able to stop thinking about the kids when your ex has them.
    When I first separated from my wife, the toughest part for me was that feeling that I was no longer there to protect my kids. I had lost control as a father. When I questioned once my ex why she was allowing something that we never allowed for our children when we were married, I simply got a curt response that I have no say in what she does when she has the children. Every night when my ex and I were married, I read to the kids, I checked in on them, I made sure I knew they were safe. Not being there to ensure their safety was pure anguish.
  • It’s the hardest job you’ll ever have.
    No one ever tells you that few care about how hard you have to work. But you’ll feel really proud of yourself for managing everything. It’s a lot like what they say in the Peace Corps: “It’s the toughest job you’ll ever love.”
  • But it’s also the most rewarding.
    It may sound corny, but it’s true. If you put your heart into it, life as a single father is the most rewarding experience you will ever have. But you may not realize it for years. You will grow, and if you do it right, your children will be blessed by you doing your best and remaining a significant part of their lives. You may be divorced from your ex, but don’t divorce yourself from your children. Children need a good man and father in their lives.

The more they love you the less they need you

It’s my weekend as a trade for last weekend because my children were at a church event last weekend with their mom’s ward. Now it’s Friday night. But my ex wanted to take the kids to a movie so said she’d bring them tomorrow morning. So I texted her back and asked if I could get a night added sometime this summer. I said it less because I could figure out how to do that, and more to impress upon her I was concerned about what she was doing, taking one of my nights.

She: “When they are gone to youth activities during your time, I don’t feel a need to make up the time since they are also gone for youth activities on my weekends – it is about supporting the kids. And since [your son] is going to Moab with you, I just understand that it is part of the give and take and have not thought to try and keep things ‘even.’ I am more than happy to be flexible when you have things scheduled. Just let me know when you would like them.”

Me: “Just understand that I see them only about 8 days a month, whereas you get them about 20, which itself is far from even. U.S. family law seldom gives the father enough to do his part to support his kids.”

She: “Divorce is far from ideal and it is important for them to have a relationship with you. [Your  children] adore you.”

Some Thoughts

  • Since the mother has the children most of the time, for her to extend her time is easy. She just brings them a day late into the father’s weekend, which she already has off work. For the father to extend his time, he has to take a day off work. (Or to try to grab a day from the mother’s weekend in my case requires two extra hour-long round trips to get and return the kids.)
  • “Divorce is far from ideal.” In other words, “take your lot and deal with it.”
  • “It is important for them to have a relationship with you.” She’s trying to make me feel good and to stop complaining. I just want to see my children.
  • What does “your children adore you” have to do with how much time I get with my children? Because they adore me I don’t need to see them as much? That’s supposed to make me feel better, and make up for seeing them less? Is this to help me stop being sad at my little time with them? If they didn’t like me wouldn’t I want to see them even more and try to make my relationship better?
  • When she asked to let her know when I want them, I should have told her, “Every weekend.”

Suicide

I haven’t considered writing about suicide until the last couple weeks. Is it an issue with single fathers?

The son of some good friends is just starting the divorce process. His wife asked him to leave three weeks ago, so now he’s back with Mom and Dad.

At the request of our bishop and my own desire to assist, I connected with him to provide support.

I’ve seldom seen such anger. But I know where it comes from. He has the most darling two-year-old daughter, and is being kept from her, and living an hour’s drive away. And as all divorced fathers know, there is little more gut-wrenching than being rejected by someone you love.

How difficult it is to leave my children with my ex after my little time with them, and head home alone! It’s gotten easier. But I vividly remember crying inside, and often openly, on the way home those first years, and feeling incredible anger that I couldn’t choose when I wanted to see my own children! How could a piece of paper, a divorce decree that I never wanted, stand between me and my children? I was imprisoned. In my case the anger wasn’t at first as much directed toward my ex, as toward the entire inconceivable situation. But then it was directed toward her because there was nobody else I could direct it to. With a seeming touch of her finger she had pushed the first domino that set in process a system that bound me hand and foot from ever again being a significant part of my family. There was no face to the “family” law system that allowed and supported the insanity I was now being subjected to. The lawyer who helped my ex through the divorce process, who I disdained at the time, was long gone from the scene and I’d only seen him once anyway.

So yes, even mild-mannered me often got angry, even though it was not always intentionally directed toward the woman I had loved for 27 years, and still did, but now in a different way.

I got on the freeway one Thursday evening, in the dark, overwhelmingly hurt and exasperated. My natural instinct to love, protect, and be with my children was blocked. I grew angry. I was lonely, empty, with nobody to turn to, heading home to an empty apartment, leaving my family of eight, five of whom were still at home, to laugh and play, do homework, and enjoy the rest of a happy evening together, then all go to their own rooms and slumber peacefully, while I was being kept from what mattered most to me, confined to a little empty apartment to slumber fitfully and awake after four or five hours, exhausted but unable to sleep for the incessant hamsters on the wheels of my brain churning over every imaginable thought. So I had this nearly overwhelming desire to end it all. Driving up I-15 I pictured a cement wall on the side of the freeway that I could run into. It was real in my mind. I can still picture it, my foot pressing on the gas, pedal to the metal at breakneck speed as I neared that wall. …

I wouldn’t have done that, but the image, desire, and feelings were real.

Numerous other times I’ve prayed to the heavens that some mountain would fall and cause me to cease to exist so I could end the pain.

But knowing this would only end my mortal life. The spiritual me would continue on, I knew suicide was not the answer. But I still prayed I could cease to exist in every form, to end the pain.

I had told myself I wouldn’t share these things. They aren’t “me.” But sharing and trying to lift the burdens of my dear friend these last few weeks has made me realize that others have these feelings. But he may actually consider it.

Experience #2:

A number of years ago I was counselor in an LDS bishopric. The Bishop and I visited a young family that had just moved into our neighborhood. I was struck by the beauty of the home, but more so by the handsome and clean-cut father, beautiful wife, and three immaculate and happy children.

I have a good friend the past six or so years who was three years ago office manager for a legal firm. Her firm had donated a grand sum of money to a local charity, and in return got eight seats at a table and dinner at a posh hotel, one of the finest in Salt Lake. I was her companion. Except for one, the events of the evening are for another time and place.

During the indescribably wonderful meal I looked over her shoulder and saw at a neighboring table that same young man. He was with a woman I didn’t recognize, who by her dress and demeanor I could assume was not active in Church and likely not a member. Her provocative dress and appearance exuded worldliness and lust.

My heart sank for this man. I pictured his now ex wife and children living a separate life, a broken family.

This last weekend I was with my married son, his wife and son, and my two younger children, to walk Temple Square to admire the Christmas lights and get lost in the throngs of happy people. We began the evening at the food court of the neighboring mall. I’ve seldom seen so many people, shoulder to shoulder sitting in every chair and filling every space. As I sat with my children I turned to my married son and my attention was grabbed by a man walking behind him … this same young man I’d see a couple years earlier and visited with our bishop years before that. He was with yet another woman.

For some reason my Father in Heaven wanted me to see him again. Amidst the bustle, I couldn’t share with my children these three experiences, but did later when we were in the solitude of the car.

I’m concerned about my new friend, son of my friends, who told me a couple weeks ago he doesn’t plan to stay active in the church. “It has done no good for me,” or so he thinks in his anger. His anger and choices may lead him down the same road as this young father of my three encounters. Will he, as with Scrooge, allow his experiences to eventually turn him around, to “come to himself” and remember the goodness the Christ has brought him?

As I’ve shared with him and considered my own experience, there are a few things that have kept me sane and active in the Church, which now over time have been undeniably good choices:

  • My children. I’ve seen too many children of fathers who have removed themselves from their children’s lives or left the church. These children often leave the Church or flounder themselves. Those I know seem quiet and confused. I want to find data on this.
  • My own life is vastly different than it would be had I left activity in the Church (which would certainly have been the “easier” choice; it took incredible willpower to attend church).
  • I have good, clean, and supportive friends. The darkness of the “other” life I could have had I’ve seen in the eyes of too many men who remarry and remarry, and to remarry again.
  • I have joy. Yes, in spite of indescribable sadness, I have joy and peace in my life. The sadness is there, never-ending and painful. But I know that part of this life’s experience is to see if I’ll remain faithful to my Father in Heaven and my covenants in spite of my trials.
  • My decision to work in the temple baptistery set a foundation spirituality that has affected me deeply.