The Good Father

Over the years with 'Tasha I have grown accustomed to people telling me "Oh you're such a good dad..." because I took 'Tasha to another IEP, or doctors visit or something. I've always felt deeply uncomfortable with this, for one, is the bar so low for fatherhood in this culture that merely doing the decent thing qualifies one for "dad of the year' status? And on a deeper level I feel somehow fraudulent, a voice in my head asks: "well if you're such a great father, why is your kid messed up?” In some weird way being complemented on caring doesn't always register as a compliment. I realize folks mean their remarks in a nice way, but the compliments that make me feel good are the ones about 'Tasha. If someone says: "Hey your kid is doing OK", or ""Tasha did a good job at this or that” ....that feeling of pride can bring me to the brink of tears.

I don't really know if I am a good father or not. I know I am flawed, and have made mistakes, and loose my temper with 'Tasha all too often. I also know that I have never once wished that she were not here, and I can't imagine ever giving up on her. I think that’s what fathers are meant to do.

Rules

I've thought a lot about how to approach writing this story... and it seems clear that nothing less than complete honesty will be useful to anyone else. I will try my best to tell the truth as we go forward. I am old enough to know that brutal honesty is most often more brutal than honest, and I will apply a standard of leaving out any deliberate insult, attack, or hurtful statement about any identifiable person. That should leave enough wiggle room for the occasional scurrilous remark about the educational/medical/government/industrial complex that children like 'Tasha get caught up in.

What "Tasha Has To Say ( Take 1)

I wish people would understand what i go though each day living with this disorder.I want people to know that if u have a mental illness its not the end of the world but for some who have it even thoe it feels that way for the person.Im not crazy because i have this illness im just mis understood and i fight every day for my life really i fight every single day i fight so i dont give in to the drepression or the illness itself! and that waking up in the morning is starting a new battle for myself which many people inculdeing my parnets dont understand and will never understand. because if i stop fighting for one day one mintue i would die i would just give up on life itself but ive come to learn that each day is really a blessing from god himself and no matter how cruel life may be sometimes i have to look at what i do have and not what i dont.So i know ive push away people who truly love and care for me friends and family and im deeply sorry for that its just that im fighting it again and again i try so hard with friends to keep them and some have work some dont.I mostly blame myself for not having friends or a boyfriend but i know deep down thats not true at all but i do know one thing in this life iam ever so gratefully for and that is my father he has always been there for good the bad and the ugly!and i just wanted to say that i thank god every day that im alive and still fighting and i hope and pray with this messgse people and even my family might understand me better i love u dad!!!!

The DJ's Girl

  Write what you know. It sounds like a simple thing to do, just write about who you are, and what you've seen. For the past twenty one years I have had the pleasure, and struggle, of knowing my daughter Natasha. I don't know anyone in this world better. I don't love anyone in the world more. I haven't spent as much time with anyone else; yet answering the question "what do I know?" about 'Tasha is anyting but simple, and anything but easy. Granted that there is a mystery at the heart of every parent/child relationship; ours is more mysteriuos than most.

  'Tasha is her fathers girl, the  disc jockeys kid, the light of my life, and mentally ill.  Exploring our history together, learning about "Tasha has been a journey into the heart of who I am, what it means to be a man, a father, a parent, and what it means to be alive and part of the human family. At the core of our story is the fact that both 'Tasha and I are survivors: we've surrived divorce, suden departures, countless IEP meetings, shrinks, sucide attempts, jobs, firings, more jobs, custody fights, isolation, and more. The DJ's girl is made  of some pretty tough stuff, she's come far despite all she lost to the thief that mental illness is. Her illness has robbed 'Tasha of many, many things: 'Tasha has never had a real friend, she's never even had a girlfriend to hang out with. 'Tasha has learning disabilities profound enough that she has trouble telling time, she can't count money, she is delayed developmentally to the point that she looks to be 14 or 15 rather than her real age of 21, her biological mother calls her now and then but never sends a birthday card; and Natasha is terrifically lonely most of the time. Such is just the beginning of the robbery report, and I list it not to elicit sympathy for my daughter, I make this list for the opposite reason..to offer hope. The DJ's girl has survived, my girl still has a smile that can light up a room,  she remains the work of my life, and the nearest one to my heart. We begin this blog to offer our story, to descibe our journey, and share our faith in happy endings to all you fellow travelers, all you who love someone difficult, all who journey with us on this winding winter road. Welcome to the story of the DJ's girl.