Still Growing

I never thought I’d be this person, but… I cut my parents off last month. I still can’t really believe I did, but I felt like it was the only way I could ever heal. Let’s leave the details for another post.

So I sent my sister a message last week. I decided I was going to tell her why I’ve never really attempted to be close to her. First proper message I’ve sent her in maybe fifteen or twenty years, if you don’t count the annual happy birthday, have a great day — and you shouldn’t.

It said, more or less, that I don’t have a lot of respect for the fact that when her husband heard I was struggling with Mum and Dad, she didn’t reach out. Not a heard you’re doing it tough. Not an I’m here if you need anything. Nothing. Crickets.

She didn’t reply. Her husband did. Let’s call him Doug. Doug sent a long message that essentially walked me through his own struggles. Didn’t address what I’d actually sent at all. Lots of emotion, plenty of threat and moral superiority. But the bit I keep turning over is the last line:

It’s time to grow up [—].

He’s right. I want to. I’m trying to. I need to do better.

Not linear

I’d love to write something tidy here about how I’ve been getting better, year on year, slow and steady. That’d be a lie.

I keep stuffing up. I’m not a great person, half the time. I lash out. I get defensive. I lack empathy far more than I’d like to admit. I’m 40 and I still have to apologise to my wife about once a fortnight for something I should’ve noticed sooner, or said softer, or just not said at all. I’d love to tell you I’m done with that part. I’m not.

What I can tell you is I’m trying. And that the trying is not a straight line. It’s three steps forward, two back, one sideways into something I didn’t see coming, and then a long apology and a slow walk back to the same spot I was trying to leave.

“Most men die at 25 and aren’t buried until 75.” — commonly attributed to Benjamin Franklin

I think about that line a lot. Mainly because of my parents.

A whole lot of people die at 25 and don’t get buried for another 50 years. They stop being curious. Stop changing their minds. Stop being uncertain. They lock in three or four opinions and run that loop until the body gives out. Some of them are good people. Most of them, even. Some of them are completely delusional. I’m not having a go. I just don’t want to be one of them.

Mostly for my kids.

I want my kids to have a dad who’s still working things out. Still asking questions. Still embarrassed by what he used to think. Still capable of changing his mind in front of them, in real time, no big deal — because that’s the only way they’ll learn it’s allowed.

Which is one major reason I struggle with religion. Read one book and you’re done. No other book is allowed to question it. But anyway, that’s also another conversation.

Kaizen

Japanese word. Means change for the better. Came out of post-war Toyota factories — the idea that you don’t fix things in big revolutionary leaps, you fix them in tiny, almost-boring daily increments.

It works because it doesn’t require genius. Just turning up tomorrow believing you’ve still got a fair bit to learn.

That’s the thing about growing. It doesn’t mean you stop being a clumsy human. It means you keep noticing the clumsiness — and try to do it slightly less, the next time.

So.

Time to grow up. Always. Knowing it’s not a line you cross — it’s a thing you do, today, then again tomorrow, badly, and then a tiny bit better.

Mostly for my kids. Partly for me. A bit for the people I keep failing in small ways — and want to keep getting slightly less stupid about.

That’s why I made this site, for me. To get shit out of my head, and attempt to process it. The first word’s a verb. You don’t finish. So hopefully one day, I can be proud of the person I am, but more importantly, my kids are proud to be my kids. That’s the real goal. Have children who adore me, respect me, and enjoy my company.

It’s the classic “give my kids what I never got” journey. But if I’m going to get there…

It’s time to grow up [—].

Let’s hope I can do it.

It’s great to have the intention, because I’ve noticed so many people don’t even care or think about how to be a better human.

But intentions aren’t enough.