Tim met the love of his life in high school.  She was absolutely breathtaking; she had long blonde hair and a megawatt smile that just communicated absolute joy, the beauty of her spirit.  It was like the sun itself had manifested as this really hot girl.

Her name was Lauren.

It was passionate, those early days.  Tim was completely bowled over by just how much  he felt for Lauren.  He would feverishly write poems, compelled to get the flow of his thoughts down on paper.  It was like there was nothing that could really capture the absolute depth of his feeling for her.  And she just opened her heart to him and whatever he had to give, however he was moved to give it.  He just couldn’t believe he was ‘with’ her.

Tim didn’t know it, but he came from a long line of robots; men who never  shared their emotions.  For years he had been fighting for a deep connection with his father and for years he had been failing at it.  No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he did, he couldn’t wring so much as a “good job” out of Daddy Roboto.  Little Tim didn’t understand – for him to feel was to breathe  – how his father could be so cold; so remote.  He felt rejected.  He felt somehow wrong.

Teenage Tim was staggered by the full acceptance and love Lauren had for him.  For this first time in his life he really had someone who received the full force of his feeling and he scrambled to find ways to express it once the gates were open.  And for a long while the awesome nature of his first love made the world seem right for once.  He felt like he fit; he had a place.

It was easy to concentrate on his love for Lauren at first.  It was so pure, so unassailable.  He knew that as long as he had breath in his being, he would be filled with love for her.  He pushed his feeling of rejection into the deep recesses of his mind but his heart - his heart - he had no control over.  While Tim didn’t even graduate high school (”Why bother?” the voice of poison planted by his father would say.  “You’ll never amount to anything.”), Lauren excelled scholastically. 

She came from a ‘good’ family and made all the right moves.  She eased into the world of adulthood with little problem.  And, yet again, Tim started to feel rejected.  Unintentionally her poise and successes underlined his perceived failure.  He would never be good enough.  And he started to resent her…but secretly, so secretly, he didn’t dare admit it to himself.

He made plans to marry his beautiful beloved and as he went through the ceremony he thought his heart would burst from sheer joy.  Seeing her walk down the aisle was almost surreal; he couldn’t believe that the day – this day – he was marrying the girl of his dreams.  It seemed like the beginning of a whole new life, a life of accomplishment and happiness; the beginning of his dreams. 

But the years started to wear on him.  Though he advanced in the company he worked for, the men he worked with were jaded and bitter.  Men who felt betrayed by the promise of their youth, who wearied under their responsibilities; men who longed for freedom.  Where once these men had seemed comically bitter, their poison seeped into that dark place in his soul.  The place planted by the unthinking, callous rejection of his father. 

Instead of being the beginning of his life, his marriage started to seem like the end of it.  The responsibilities of being a husband ‘good enough’ for his beloved, a father ‘good enough’ for his beautiful daughters started to weigh on him.  Because he secretly felt he wasn’t worthy, wouldn’t ever be ‘good enough’, he never thought to stand up to his young bride.  She assumed he was making all the mistakes because, in his heart, he believed it.  He was working 80 hour weeks just to come home as a failure.

He started by disengaging from his family.  He watched tv but mostly, mostly, played videogames.  Soon playing videogames began to consume his time.  He could be found playing videogames when he was ‘watching the kids’ or in the early hours of the morning when he should have been nestled beside the companion of his days.

The he started drinking because, at first, it made him feel better.  Except that it stopped making him feel better.  He was angry; at himself, at his wife, at the responsibilities – the never-ending responsibilities – of adulthood.  He was angry at his lot in life and he was angry that he would never be ‘good enough’.  This anger, the fear and shame and sadness that he had tucked away since childhood, started to creep out.  At least when he was angry he felt in control.  He wasn’t a victim.  At least when he was angry, people had to worry about whether they  were pleasing him  enough…even if it was the people he adored the most in this world.

Events finally came to a head, Lauren just didn’t know what she could do to fix everything and get the Tim she married back.  So she left.  She packed up her and the girls and not only left the town, not only left the state, but she put like 2500 miles between them.

At first he felt a little relieved.  He tried to tell himself that he didn’t want all that responsibility and things were better this way.  At least no one was constantly harping on him.  But those bitter guys at work didn’t really care and he was lonelier than ever.  His missed his beautiful wife and beautiful girls; he wanted his family back.  He started making efforts to please her.  He’d show up to an AA meeting and then proudly tell her, but was puzzled by Lauren’s lack of enthusiasm.  He didn’t understand why that wasn’t ‘enough’ for her.  And so he went back down the well of self-loathing and unworthiness.

What he didn’t realize was that he was still searching for that approval that he never got from his father; having externalized his worth, he would never feel ‘worthy’.  Finally he started to let things go.  Maybe he couldn’t live the dream of being back with his family but he could be happy to know that they were happy. 

Though Lauren warily allowed him to keep in touch, his children became – once again - a source of joy for him.  Where before he felt the agony of responsibility for having to care for them, he now felt he would never take them for granted again.  Their voice on the phone elated him, and he allowed himself to – again – delight in the essence of their beings.  He began to truly enjoy his daughters.

He kept at it, he was persistent – he talked and read – he ate, slept, and breathed this change.  He could now clearly see that the bitter road of resentment and anger would only lead to the death of his soul.  He, too, would become a robot.  As he found family, he too found his connection to the Ultimate Father – the God of his understanding.  And this Father, this Father accepted him as he was.  This Father told him “How could you be broken when I myself have made you?  How could you not be ‘enough’ when you are my Son?  When I myself have loved the depth of your spirit?” 

Lauren finally allowed herself to trust that the change she was seeing was real.  That he was joyfully resigned to merely experiencing the joy of his family on the phone.  That the poems he began to write again were real  and coming from his truest self.  No longer was he living to please her, no longer was she the arbiter of whether he was worthy, no longer was he blaming anyone but himself.

And she allowed herself to hope.

Recently, he drove cross-country to be reunited with his family.  And, of all the strangest of things that can happen, his father drove with him.  His father, not a robot, but a man who managed – finally – to be there for his son.

It won’t be easy, this reintegration.  But wherever there is love, there is a chance.  Whenever he realizes the depths of his feelings for Lauren and his children, there is a chance.  Whenever he rejoices in their presence instead of feeling its burden, there is a chance.  And however long he writes her poetry, there will always be a chance…