I enjoy coffee and listening to NPR while lounging in bed. I ease leisurely into the day, unfolding little by little into the waiting chaos of the morning at my own pace. On one of these mornings, I heard an interview already in progress with Father Richard Rohr, an ecumenical teacher, prolific author, Franciscan and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico. His teachings focus on unity and fellowship among the varied Christian traditions.

Father Rohr commented about his work with men in jail and noted that almost all suffered fromfather hunger. Through death, divorce, estrangement or other abandonment, each suffered the emotional loss of father. Having never experienced the love and acceptance of a father, or the bonds of father and child, he suggests that a wound festers and grows into a lifetime of yearning, grief, and rage. That is not to say that all those who suffer father hungerend up incarcerated, but Father Rohr noted the pattern particularly among the jailed men he served. While this is a simplified explanation, the term father hunger resonated and put a label on my childhood experience. 

I know that the heart remembers and holds onto pain even if one has no memory. In a Reiki experience, my heart communicated my memory of pain. The Reiki Master commented she knew I had a traumatic loss at a very tender age. My Chakras were clumped together and when she realigned them, the heart chakra was closed off. What the Reiki Master could not have known, but correctly attended, was at age two, my father left my pregnant mother for another woman also pregnant with his child. I have no memory of this but my mother shared that she sent me to play therapy to help me in my profound grief and sadness. 

The Reiki Master suggested wearing the color green, not a favorite of mine. Additionally, I should listen to heart healing meditations. I hope to visit her again to note any progress I have had in healing. The experience was transformative. I thought what irony, my heart was unable to open to what it so desired.

The first man who should have loved me instead abandoned me, and father hungerhas shaped my relationships with men. Indeed, it took a long time for me to like myself, fully, completely, down to the bones. I do, but what a voyage through disappointments searching for love in all the wrong places, and lacking the understanding that love began with me loving me. I believed the lie that I wasn’t enough. I believed there was evidence. I’d never been asked to prom, never dated, never married, and only been in a long-term relationship for three years – that seemed sufficient evidence to prove I was simply not enough. There have been relationships, and affairs interesting ones too (Lisa will write the tell-all book upon my death). I have been chosen and plucked by men when I did not believe I was worthy enough to say no thank you when that made better sense. 

The lingering effects of father hunger mean I am slow to warm when meeting people and developing relationships. It takes me a long time to trust, to be open and assured that I know what is developing. It means if trust is broken, it is very hard for me to recover, and trust again. However, once I give into trust I am unwavering in my support, love, defense, and admiration. I have your back. 

I am that odd wallflower at events. I need just one person to talk to, and then I am stuck like glue, feeling comfortable in my oasis with the kind person who made first contact. That is exactly how I met Jayanti. We were sitting side-by-side at the fall colloquium and she introduced herself. After the obligatory new employee introductions we discovered we were both recent hires at the institution. We’ve been friends ever since. 

My definition of friendship is narrow. I do not have a lot of friends. I like to say those who are I can call at any hour, will lend me money, bail me out of jail, will tell me the truth, and are always on my side. That means being accepting and embracing despite my imperfect self. It means caring enough not to give up on me, and that is especially important to me, a girl who suffers from father hunger– that little lying voice that declared I am not enough to be loved lingers, and whispers.

I am enough. I want to grow in a relationship. I am ready for a man to take that adventure with me. I don’t need a man, but I want to be in partnership with a man.  In the meantime, I focus on gratitude, I say yes to as many invitations I can that come my way. I do things solo that interest me.

I make no apologies for being me. I embrace the good, the great, the annoying, and the areas needing further growth and development.

Although I bear the scars of that toddler girl, knowing the truth is liberating. – I am enough. Father Hunger.

Richard Rohr — Growing Up Men