My dad is remarkable, but I don’t plan on walking in his footsteps. There are plenty of both good and bad dads, and if I were to have a child I suspect I would make a pretty miserable father. I tell myself that I might surprise everyone and step up to be something special, yet I’m not willing to put myself in that position to find out. Many parenting mishaps just happen by accident, and the older I get the more the idea genuinely frightens me. I’m happy to be an uncle to three nephews who I love to bits, but I watch my sister devote her life to her kids and see the depth of her commitment. She is a wonderful mum and sister, and her husband deserves a special award for being such a great dad. Some people say they love their nieces and nephews because they can give them back, and while that’s true to an extent, the time I spend with them is only a small fraction of what the parents give day in and day out.
I’m too selfish to be a father. Bringing a child into my life would disrupt the freedom I’ve carefully cultivated, and that independence is something I have deliberately devoted my life to developing. I’m responsible for myself and my routines. I’m not certain my mental health would allow me to open my life to new people or to a child. I enjoy my own company and I like being in control of my finances. I live off a DSP, so I’m unsure whether I could realistically provide for a kid. Everything revolves around me in the small, protective bubble I’ve created. A child would interrupt my painting time and my creative flow, and that would not be acceptable to me.
I don’t feel as if I’m missing out. I really don’t. My life is fairly simple, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The prospect of even finding a girlfriend feels limited. I don’t mix and mingle with others, so I don’t have a wide social network to draw from. Besides, I’m not going to date the first woman who takes an interest in me — I’ve done that too many times before. Avoid crazy, Dave! If anything, I’d need someone who thinks outside the box, someone artistic with similar life philosophies to mine. That kind of relationship isn’t easy to find, even when I make an effort to put myself out there. For now I’m planning my future with myself as the primary consideration.
And then comes the stereotypical excuse for not having a child, and that is… I don’t want to bring a kid into this messy world. I’m a self‑proclaimed pessimist and have very little hope for the future we are slowly corrupting. Maybe, in a way, I’m doing two things at once by choosing not to bring a child into this world. I also wouldn’t want to possibly pass on my mental health issue to another human being either.
I gave my parents so many worries over the years. Growing up I was a handful, and made life difficult at times. Yet through everything they have always stepped up and done the best they could with the little they had to work with. I can’t honestly blame my parents for anything; they devoted so much time and care to me. From preschool through adolescence and into the present day they have remained supportive. They are still there for me no matter how big or small the situation. In many ways I feel like a 43-year-old child — reliant on their steady presence even while trying to stand on my own.
This blog was written on Father's Day. That’s what set me thinking. The family didn’t do anything elaborate. We went for a long walk around the botanical gardens, which was pleasant, and then we came home and my brother made tea. My old man has everything he needs and is impossible to buy for, so doing an hour‑long walk was exactly what he wanted and the least I could do. Happy Fathers Day dad!