My dad wasn't there for us. I'm changing that for my daughter.

Yahoo10 hours ago

Becoming a father to a happy-go-lucky little girl (who is about to hit her third birthday) has certainly had a profound impact on my life. Before becoming a father I can say that my life had felt pretty aimless. I never grew up with any specific aspirations of what I wanted to do with my life. I never had any lofty dreams or goals such as 'I want to be a doctor' or 'I want to be a movie star.'
Truth be told, I'm still struggling to find a meaningful profession that I just click with. I was also originally on the fence about having kids. Would I even be good at it? Do I want to give up the freedoms I have and dedicate my time and energy to another?
But once my daughter was born, a switch was flipped, a puzzle piece just slid into place. The moment I saw her for the first time, the moment I first held her in my arms and she gripped my finger with that tiny little hand of hers – that was it. I was a dad.
It instantly made sense. The love and pride I felt for her was instantaneous. Somehow, I just knew it was right. For the first time in my life, logic and instinct were in perfect synchronization and the universe became aligned.
I am now a very involved parent in my daughter's life. I share in everything that my wife does, from the handling of the poopy diapers to the feedings and changings, the bedtime routine, taking her to preschool, education – all of it. Which in my personal opinion, has become way more normalized than back in the day when my own father was my age. All of my guy friends who have young children treat them with roughly the same level of care and attention.
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And this brings me to my own relationship with my father and how it impacted me growing up.
My father, overall, was not very happy with his life. He lost his own mother at a very early age and he never really got over that. He suffered from lifelong, untreated depression. From my earliest memory of him and throughout the remainder of his life, he self-medicated with alcohol and smoking. He lost a cushy job back when I was in my single-digit years and afterward bounced around from one disappointing career change to another. He and my mother had constant screaming matches until they amicably divorced when I was about 6.
He and my mother remained friendly, and she made sure to constantly keep him involved in our lives, but really, he wasn't really ever there for us. Mom did everything to take care of us, and we went to see him once a week until my sibling and I were of high school age. Then we stopped – because his problems were taking their toll on us.
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Let's just fast-forward this part of the story about my father (because I could say a lot more) up to 2013 when he finally took his own life and end it there.
Even as a child, I've always been a deep thinker and I never harbored resentment toward him, because I knew that he loved us. He was just incapable of being a dad to us. And to his credit, he is my driving motivation for how I am today with my own daughter. He became a textbook example of how not to deal with a child. His memory is a constant reminder that I need to be vigilant about my own shortcomings and to make sure that I don't become something that gives my daughter grief when she looks back later in life.
Admittedly, I did inherit some problems from my father: I suffer from lifelong clinical depression with borderline suicidal thoughts. As mentioned earlier, I also struggle with a lack of direction and motivation with what I want to do with my life. Addiction runs in my family, so I have had to be extra mindful of what I put into my body or how I approach substances. I have anger and anxiety issues.
So what would I say to my father on this Father's Day if I could? I would say thank you.
Thank you for teaching me these very hard, very important lessons, because I took them to heart. My daughter's happiness to me is paramount, and so I am making it my mission to not have history repeat. I'm going to be the positive male role model she needs in her life. I'm going to show up for all of the important events. I'm going to share in her happiness and hardships. I'm going to walk her down the aisle one day to marry the man or woman whom she loves. I'm going to spoil my grandchildren rotten. I'm going to keep that space I occupy in her heart filled forever.
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In terms of how I think of Father's Day compared with Mother's Day, my answer will likely be a controversial one: I don't like Father's Day. I don't like celebrating Father's Day.
It's not really a question of being adequate enough or comparable with Mother's Day. I feel the same about both holidays: I believe them both to be pointless.
I feel very strongly that important people in your life should be appreciated and celebrated at any given moment you feel a true sense of appreciation and celebration, not just on one specific day of the year. I think a lot about my father and the lessons he taught me and the time I wish I could have spent with him.
If he were alive today, I would feel compelled to give him a big hug, a "thank you" and maybe even possibly a steak dinner (cooked the way he taught me how). I know he would love that. I know I would. I don't need a special day for such things. These moments carry way more meaning when provoked by a spur-of-the-moment feeling of love.
My special day happens to be my birthday. On that one specific day of the year, I expect pampering. What day even IS Father's Day? I couldn't care less.
To my daughter who will probably never read this: I love you more than life itself. You are my whole entire world. My reason for existing. I could never find my own happiness in life until you took form and entered the world. Now you are that happiness. I gave you my heart and would gladly give you the rest of me for you to be whole and happy forever.
— Ross Bradfield, Roswell, Georgia
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This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Like my dad, I have depression. Being a father lifts me up | Opinion