I think I am finally ready to write again.
I understand that being a "people-pleaser" CAN be a really good thing. As long as you are pleasing the right people for the right reasons. I have spent most of my life trying to please people. And it was all for good reasons. Most of my life was targeted on pleasing my Dad. I admire my Dad so much. He is such an amazing man. I could go on and on about all the reasons I admire him, but for the sake of my time let's just set it straight. I love my Dad, I always have. But when does a person stop trying to please others? When is enough enough? And WHY did I spend so much time and energy trying to get him to say one phrase that may not really be that important?
Since I was little, I can remember trying to make my Dad "proud" of me...but also trying to stay true to myself and my interests. I always wanted to be a cheerleader. I loved dancing and I thought their skirts were so cute and, let's face it...they looked cuter on the sidelines than the basketball players did in their jerseys and sweaty faces and pony-tails. But, our family had a rule. It was a good rule. We were to play all sports our Freshman year and then we could choose what we did our Sophmore year...and so on. Why? Well, if you play a sport all through Jr. High, like basketball for example, and then you choose not to play your Freshman year and decide you actually DO want to play your Sophmore year...you're really behind. REALLY behind. It's that simple. My Dad just wanted to help us stay "ahead" as much as he could. I mean, we're not big athletic people in the Teichert house. We just aren't. We weren't blessed with any kind of natural athleticism...everything we achieved athletically, we worked REALLY REALLY hard for. So, I understood the "rule." But that didn't mean I had to LIKE it, right?.... Like it or not, I did abide by it and I found that I LOVED sports and I played them all and I did it willingly.
So what's the hard part about this? Well, I was also born (and raised) with a very competitive spirit. If I was going to do something, I was going to give it everything I had. But I wanted to do WELL and I wanted my Dad to be proud of me. And he was. My Sophomore and Junior years were great! I loved practices (most of them) and I loved the familiar "No Doubt!" we cheered at EVERY huddle. We "counted 'em" in the locker room after every win and I felt like I was part of something really amazing that I shared with my sister and Dad. We had two amazing seasons where we only lost one game each and brought home a State Title both years. I played the 2-guard on the basketball team and I contributed a lot. I was a defensive hound. My sister Tami and I were nick-named "the piranhas" because of our defensive skills. It was fun! I thrived on making point-guards frustrated with me. I craved the competition, but I craved my Dad's approval even more. I worked my tail off on that court so that in the locker room he would tell me he was proud of me. And he did. It felt good. I felt like all my hard work on (and off) the court was paying off. But then Tami graduated and everything changed....
No summer basketball camp. WHAT?! Dad said it was because none of us asked for one. I don't remember EVER having to ask for one. Not ever. It was just something that was expected. I guess I can see why that would be a little frustrating on my Dad's part, though. I should have been more grateful, I guess. I should have been more of a leader, I guess. But, the hard thing is, I thought I WAS. I was doing my shooting 5 days a week, sometimes six, and I was trying to get the other girls there, too. Kandyce and I were at the weight room 3 days a week and I KNOW she was doing her shooting, too. We were frustrated with there not being a camp. But, in spite of all the time we spent "together", I was afraid to approach my Dad about why things were different. I chalked it up to him being super busy and thought that it would all be ironed-out by the time the season started.
The first day of practice arrived. We huddled as a team and had prayer and put our hands in for the first yell of the season. Dad asked Kandyce what we were going to say. With a puzzled look on her face she said, "No doubt." Dad said, "No. Not this year. Pick something else." Okay...? I was so stunned. What the? We never said "No doubt" in a huddle again...ever. Game two. First win of the season. Not exactly what we were hoping for, but hey, a "W" is a "W". We got in the locker room, Dad and Coach Nate talked and then...silence. No "Count 'em!" ? This was getting really awkward. Especially since every one of my teammates was looking at me with the same confusion I was feeling inside. I didn't get it. Yet, I wasn't sure how to approach my Dad about this. I suddenly felt like I wasn't good enough. Not only had there been a completely different feeling between Dad and the team, but he had not yet told me he was proud of me. I was sure he would hug me and utter that "craved" phrase ever so silently after our win!? My mind was reeling with confusion and self-doubt.
I spent the rest of that season playing every game thinking, "Today is the day. Today I'll be good enough to hear those words again." Nope. Not once. Not the whole season. And to top it all off, we didn't even make it State Tournament that year. After back-to-back State Titles, we couldn't even pull off a regional spot to compete at State. I had failed. I had failed miserably.
Time passed. I continued to fight for those words, "I'm proud of you, Vi." I even went out for track that year. I was a Senior. I didn't need to be there, except I had one more season. One more opportunity to hear him tell me that I had done well. I had worked hard. And he was "proud of me". I tried to be a leader. I tried to be positive and uplifting to all of my under-classmen and teammates. I think Kandyce was looking for the same thing, too. She and I were the only Seniors out for track that year. It never happened. We took second as a team. And still, it never happened.
Unfortunately, I couldn't let it go. I hung on. As tight as I could. I lived my life to hear it again. Every time I had a choice to make, the first thing that would come to mind was "what would my Dad think? Would I make him proud?" I served a mission. I made that choice because the Lord needed me to. He knew I needed to go. I had a lot of lessons to learn about my Father-In-Heaven's love. And maybe my Dad would be "proud."
Long story long, but cut slightly shorter....I never felt like I measured up. I got married (one reason the Lord needed me to go on a mission) and I started a new phase of my life. A year into my marriage, I found myself so angry with my Dad and the way some things were being "handled" at home with my little brother and how my other brother was being treated because of his choice of hair style... I also found myself frustrated with my husband for NOT being just like my Dad! How does this make ANY sense? I was sad, anxious, and angry. My husband, in all his love and wisdom, suggested I go to the counseling center to work through some of the things that had me so upside-down.
Counseling saved me. It saved my marriage. It saved my relationship with my Dad, and I don't think he even knows it.
Having said that, I worked really hard with my counselor to see my dad through different eyes. I feel closer to him now than I ever have before because I stopped putting MY feelings first. And I came to terms with the fact that it's okay for me to FEEL a certain way but I can choose how I react to those feelings. I choose to love my Dad, regardless of weather or not he tells me he is proud of me. I focus now on my relationship with my husband and I don't need him, or WANT him, to be just like my Dad. Both are amazing men. They are vastly different. But that is what makes them so wonderful.
My Dad is not a "mean" man. He never raised his voice in our home. He has always told me he loves me. He works hard every day to provide for the needs of his wife and children, always putting himself last. His Dad passed away when I was on my mission. My Dad was around 50-51 years old and had NEVER even heard his Dad say "I love you" let alone say "I am proud of you, Son." My Dad tried to give me more than he ever had and he succeeded. ,In retrospect, I can see that we were both "fighting" for each-other's approval. Living up to each other's expectations was a hard job and I never ONCE considered that he was just as tired as I was of trying to meet others' expectations and, perhaps, never feeling like he measured-up. Dad, I am sorry. I love you. I am proud of you. Thank you for giving me the very best.
Austin, I love you with all my heart. Thank you for not being angry with me when I was comparing you to my Dad. I love you so much for trying to understand me and for loving me enough to help me help myself. I love how you are not afraid to approach subjects that were so "weird" to approach while I was growing up. I love that you are everything I wanted, needed, and yet nothing I was ever "looking for." You are my world.
I feel the need to mention one other man who has helped me through my "journey." My amazing Father-In-Law. He encourages me every day. He inspires me to always be true to myself. He has always greeted me with hugs and the words, "I love you. I am so proud of you." Without even knowing about my struggle with those words. He accepts my hard work for what it is and asks for nothing more. Thank you, Joe. I love you.
I am not "better." I still find myself wondering what my Dad would say. But, I don't think that that is a bad thing. It has never steered me wrong before. I just always consider Austin and OUR family FIRST. It's a long road. It's bumpy, and I'm sure there are some other pot-holes waiting for me. But I have the tools. I have the support system. I am ready.
