After three years of marriage, I found myself in a therapist's office
on a Saturday morning holding hands with my wife and stepson. We were
crying because our problems had turned our family interactions into
tumultuous encounters. Beneath my tears lay the greatest frustration of
my adult life: Marriage and stepparenting, to which I had
wholeheartedly subscribed, were kicking my ass, and I didn't know how
to handle the situation. I had come home at 8:00 A.M. on the morning of
our therapy session, having told myself that hanging out once a week
enabled me to handle our problems. But the tension it created in our
home only exacerbated our conflict. My wife questioned the future of
our relationship and worried about the impact my behavior was having on
my stepson. I knew I had to take responsibility for what I was doing,
and somehow I had to change and cope more effectively, but I wasn't
sure of what to do. I had totally misjudged the reality of becoming a
stepparent. Like my own stepfather, I thought that because I am a man,
and men have the power to do all things, I could enter the lives of my
wife and stepson and easily make whatever changes were necessary to
ensure our happiness. Instead I saw how unprepared I was.
I sat my stepson down one afternoon to talk about my hanging out and
told him that my actions were poor examples of how to cope. He said he
understood, and as we talked he shared with me his frustrations over
the absolute authority his mother and I retained over everything in our
home. I admitted that I did sometimes assume a dictatorial posture and
agreed that I needed to be more understanding and sympathetic toward
him. I felt uncomfortable admitting this, and I confided these feelings
to my son. He was pleased by my willingness to discuss my insecurities
with him openly.
Soon after this conversation I had to pick up my stepson from the
police station, where he was being held for painting graffiti on a
subway car. I was apprehensive, but when I saw how dejected and
helpless he looked, I knew he needed my support. His acceptance of my
insecurities and mistakes enabled me to be far less judgmental and more
understanding of his. In fact, this was the beginning of my
understanding of how much attention he needed and the extent to which
he would go to get it.
The biggest hurdle that our family had to overcome was my stepson's
attitude toward school. He hated it and refused to go. After several
years of fighting with him, trying to get him to do something he
absolutely did not want to do, we let him make his own decision. He
signed himself out, got a job and later earned his G.E.D. Now he's
college sophomore.
There were times over the years when I was so angry I could have beaten
him up. I felt he had to do what I said, as had been the case with me
and my stepfather. But my wife made it clear that hitting him would
satisfy my own frustrations but change nothing. I could not deal with
that kind of impotence.
Eventually I found a Black male support group run by a therapist. The
members of the group were my age, married and with similar family
difficulties. After many sessions I had to come to terms with my own
contributions to my family's problems. I learned to let go a little and
allow my son to be who he needed to be. I had to accept that my not
knowing how to "fix" the problem did not make me less a man. In fact, I
found out it provided me with greater avenues and opportunities for
personal growth.
The group helped me see that I had not made a full commitment to our
marriage and to fathering our son. My disappearing acts had created
insecurity and fear in my household. This insight forced me to come to
terms with the commitment I needed to make and ultimately made to our
family.
My relationship with both my wife and my son improved after I joined
the group, and I've stopped hanging out. I have become more of a friend
to both my wife and son, and a better husband and father.
We have not overcome all of the difficulties we encounter as a family.
I do, however, realize that I can only do the best I can with what I
have.
Hector V. Lino, Jr., is a teacher and screenwriter who lives in Brooklyn, New York.
COPYRIGHT 1990 Essence Communications, Inc.
COPYRIGHT 2004 Gale Group
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