Page 53 of Baby Girl

“You’re talking Heather?”

“Yup.”

“On the poker run?”

“Yup.”

I pulled my hands from my pockets, and picked up my glass of water. Holding it, I stood and thought. Bringing a girl around the bike club was a huge step. An introduction of her to the fella’s was an acceptance of sorts. Acceptance of the girl by her male counterpart, and acceptance, immediately, by the club. Bringing random women around the club - the entire club, was not something that was done, allowed, or accepted. I stood and thought about Kelli, and the discussion we had at the coffee shop about love.

“The answer ain’t in that water cup, Doc,” Teddy said, chuckling.

“Fuck it. Fine, I’ll talk to her,” I responded.

“Bring her, god damn it,” Teddy said.

“I’ll talk to her about it,” I responded, taking a drink.

“Tell her, don’t ask her.”

“Alright.”

“So, you bringing her?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Shake on it. Shake on it, Doc.”

I walked around the corner of the table, and met Teddy half way around the table, arm extended. As we shook hands, he pulled me into him and gave me a hug, patting me on the back.

“Love ya, brother,” he said as he hugged me.

“Thanks brother, for everything,” I responded.

ERIK. I finished my workout, and sat at the end of the weight bench. I stood, and walked into the living room of the house. This house, for the last thirty-five years, remained unchanged. I thought of my discussion with Kelli about Freud and Jung. Psychosexual development. I stood, looking around the house, and thought.

As a boy, I struggled for acceptance from my mother, and in the absence of a father, became my own father. I accepted myself as being able, always being considerate and sensitive of my mother and her needs.

I communicated my feelings to my mother, and although she accepted my feelings, she never accepted me as that fatherly figure. She loved my father, and never accepted his untimely death. She never remarried or dated. She was unable to accept me as that fatherly figure, and unable to accept me as a child, her child. I was raised by my mother and never accepted as her child, and never accepted as the fatherly figure I tried so hard to develop.

I struggled for possession of my mother, and she struggled for acceptance of me becoming the fatherly figure. And neither came. We are a product of our exposure in life. Our parents are the largest part of life, as children, that we become exposed to. Their involvement or lack of involvement, in our upbringing, alters who we become. Who we are for the rest of our lives.

I stood at the door of her room. Looking in at the room, it appeared the way it had for my entire childhood. The bed was still made with her favorite comforter. The photograph of my father remained on the dresser.

I stood in realization, as I looked at the photograph, that although my mother never accepted me as that fatherly figure, she accepted me as her partner. Her partner in life. Her soul mate. Her significant other.

I stood and stared. And thought. The reality hit me. Although I never accepted my mother as being enough, for not being a mother and a father, she accepted me as being her child and her husband.

And I cried.

ERIK. I couldn’t change who I had become, or who I was. I could, however, accept it and embrace it. Honesty, realization, and acceptance are the three steps that are required to allow us to work through our character defects.

If we exhibit certain traits, characteristics, or behaviors that are inherent to who we are, we must be honest, admit it, realize that it is so, and accept it as being part of who we are. This honesty, realization, and acceptance allow us to make adjustments in our life. Having this understanding to be who we truly are allows us to embrace it, accept it, and live a healthy life. Denial leads to an otherwise miserable existence.

In taking my own personal inventory, and being truly honest - I realized, and now was trying to accept, that I had developed through my psychosexual developmental stages, into a person that wanted to take out my frustrations, unresolved issues, and lack of acceptance of my mother, as a whole, in my sexual partners. This was part of who I was, and was not going to change.

I can be in a healthy relationship, I am certain of that. I am not a violent person. No one, in a relationship with me, would be subject to harm. But, it is important for me to know what it is that I would require of a partner. It is of further importance that I bring it to the attention of my potential partner, and get her acceptance of my desires as being part of what she wants, desires, or requires of me.

I looked up at the disco ball, took a drink of my coffee, and realized; I am not broken, I am an individual.