To the outside world, my dad was f’awesome. He had a huge heart and worked hard and was funny and charming and generous. My dad was deep down not a happy person. I knew immediately when he began taking something for it because the mood lifted. I don’t think he liked or respected himself much. He made decisions that certainly didn’t show him valuing his-own-self.
Scout is Eeyore. He is deep down morose. Don’t misunderstand and think I am picking on him. I am not. His first impression of me was that I was the female version of him. Which is damn true in a lot of ways. The leanings toward depression – totally one of them.
The Dude – I knew he was bruised, I had no clue he was broken. I knew he was a walking ball of hurt, but I didn’t understand the extent of his self-loathing until this last year. (There is a line in an episode of Buffy where Spike says, “You hated yourself and you took it out on me.” – Best summation ever of what has happened.)
So I realize now that this is a pattern – that my most significant relationships have been with men who are unhappy at their core. Which since this pattern causes me pain, it seems something I should ponder.
But in my pondering – Are there any happy men? Do you know any? I am seriously asking here.