| Stuff my dad never told me about relationships |
| Skrevet av Harald Flem | |
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Som hoveddistributør i Norge er sorthvit stolte av å presentere Patrick Dodsons bok om parforhold.
Boken Stuff my dad never told me about relationships tar for seg spørsmål og utfordringer vi ofte møter i vår søken etter kjæreste og langsiktige relasjoner. Dodson har undervist om dette temaet i over 30 land for tusenvis av mennesker. Etter nøye vurdering er dette en bok vi ønsker å anbefale våre lesere. Boken kan bestilles gjennom vår nettbutikk her. Her kan du også lese mer utfyllende om boken og vår anbefaling. Nedenfor har vi gjengitt innledningskapittelet fra boken.
Introduction The picture on the cover shows my dad during one of his happier days. He's dressed up to be the best man at my uncle Johnny's wedding. Both of them loved the MG he's standing next to and I think they formed a bond over those cute little cars. They spent a lot of time together working on mechanical things and my dad even learned sign language (Johnny's deaf) to communicate better. But I never really knew him like this. The person I saw was always stressed, always on his way to work. When he came home, he often went straight upstairs to mess around with his HAM radio (the internet of the ‘70s). I didn't really know the man my mother loved. They didn't show much affection in front of us but I knew she loved him. When I was 11, his ‘58 Chevy slammed into another car moments after he left home. We all heard the crash but my mother immediately knew it was him. She screamed his name and ran outside. She had a connection that ran deep and a commitment that would have lasted his lifetime, if only he'd stayed around.
My dad and I never talked about relationships. He left for a year when I was nine, came back and left again for good when I was 18. Not a great platform for building trust or forming a dialogue together. Regardless, I'm not sure he would've had much to say on the topic. His dad got divorced, then died at the age of 52 from a blood clot in his left leg, which happened to be the exact way his grandfather died, at the exact same age. So entering into his 50s he was afraid, bitter, and struggling to care for a family of six. All this while working his arse off at a job that a guy who didn't finish high school was lucky to have. He was a relational time-bomb; I'm surprised he made it as far as he did.
From my perspective, it would have been impossible to even approach him and talk about what was going on in my heart. There was no way. By the time I was 19 I'd become so emotionally distanced from him, it seemed I had to figure out everything for myself. It's not that he wouldn't have had anything to say; it's that I couldn't imagine even asking, because to ask would have been to bring up a thousand other questions like, "Where were you when I was growing up?" I didn't have the grace or strength to go there. Apparently, neither did he.
Instead, I called on the profound wisdom of my drugged-up friends. You can imagine how well that went. I cheated my way through high school, had sex once with someone I barely knew and started to drink my way into the future. I joined the throngs of people running away from home to find a different life, without a clue. My running took me to LA looking for a job, then joining a non-profit organization traveling around the world, all in order to find a different life, far away from home. I wouldn't have called it running at the time, but looking back now, I was a fatherless child trying to act all grown up. I could have used some more advice.
When I did tell my dad that I was going to travel around the world, on a ship, doing relief work, all he could say was, "You should stay home and get a job". Thanks dad.
Maybe it's easier for you. Maybe your dad's available, or your mom, to talk about the issues of your heart. Or maybe not. I've found that a lot of people never enter a deep conversation with their dads about the relationships they're in, or about to be in, or that busted thing that just finished horribly. As we grow up, it's really hard to talk as peers with our parents. It's hard because you don't know if they'd accept your preferences or priorities, if they really value your diversity. You might argue instead of discuss. Or like me, maybe you just don't like your dad's way of doing relationships... Perhaps it's hard to talk because you kinda know what you're doing isn't cool and you don't want to be accountable to him, or anyone. By the time my father left the second time, I had established a life without him. In doing so, I drifted into a lot of stupid things and didn't want his opinion about any of it.
I think I ended up in a kind of vacuum. No real fatherly input on one side, and a generation of confused peers on the other. My mom was available and always has been, but I needed a fathers perspective and it just wasn't there. So like most people, I just went with the flow. By the time I was 22, I'd developed some friends who weren't total idiots so that helped. But what I really needed was someone I could learn from. Someone who knew me, knew what I was about to go through, and had some real wisdom to share. I still needed a father.
Since that time, I've traveled to 30 nations and spoke to thousands of people. What I found is that my story isn't unique. It seems we've become stunted in our relational growth and are very much alone in our process. It also seems to me that we've forgotten the timeless truths which are so necessary to lasting relationships. I'd like to talk with you about this stuff. As a dad. Maybe it's just cathartic on my part (like the conversation I wish my dad had with me) or maybe I've got some really good advice from 28 years of practice. You can be the judge. But as a father, I'd love to be super honest and open about the process of relationships and, in particular, the power of unconditional love. Especially for those in their ‘20s and ‘30s who are right in the middle of learning how to love and be loved.
The downside is that I can't hear your part of the story. Instead, I'll have to share what I've learned through hundreds of experiences and conversations with my family and friends around the world. And while I'd like to approach you as a dad, my kind of fathering is very straightforward. This is not a soppy book with a bunch of cute anecdotes or clever principles you've heard before. It's pretty heavy duty and requires a lot on your part. If you're not ready, give it to someone else. Or read a few chapters and see how it goes.
This is a handbook. It's dense and works best if you read it straight through to get an overview, and then go back to walk out the steps that are relevant to you right now. I've left the margins really wide for you to take notes, jot down thoughts or make commitments to act on something you've read. We often read looking for "the secret" or some amazing answer to fix our problems. But really, there's nothing new under the sun; the trick is in the application. So use this as a workbook or journal and that'll make all the difference.
What I'd like to create for you, through this book, is encouragement, or the courage to do what you already know is right and what's best for others. I've found this encouragement from many people, a few of them fathers in my life, and would like to pass it on. Speaking of fathers, God has been a huge source of strength for me in terms of moving from a broken home and messed-up relationships to a healing understanding of unconditional love. Without the forgiveness, the wisdom, and the encouragement of God, I wouldn't have any authority to share my own experiences, because they would have been vastly different. At the same time though, I'd like to say that this is not a religious book. It's simply down-to-earth stuff that for me would not be doable without a spiritual connection. I needed something bigger than myself.
Finally, you'll find that I'm not a great writer, and as this is my first effort you won't read outstanding prose or a lot of brilliantly told stories, just a raw and simple approach to love. I intend to share my heart and wisdom, as a dad. I hope you can hear the kindness and vulnerability through the tougher passages. I hope you can feel the support during the challenges. And I hope you can see a better way through the mistakes of my process. If you were sitting in my living room right now, with the fire going, our big white dog (Chili) lying next to it, and my family bustling around us cooking something wonderful, I'd listen to your story and tell you what I think from a dad's point of view. Then we'd eat too much and watch a good movie... But since we're not together, please find some place comfortable, get something great to drink or eat, and I'll share a few things I've learned about unconditional love.
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