Are you having fun?
By: Sidnee Peck
Tags: Mental Health, Joy, Fathers Day, Dads

“Are you having fun?” A statement that came out of my father’s mouth from the moment I moved out of the house. Every time we spoke on the phone or I came home for a visit, he inquired of my happiness.

Daddy’s Girl, 1986ish

My dad was a fun guy. Seriously fun. He was a sarcastic goofball who made me so, so happy, and sometimes so, so angry when I felt he was making fun of my “very serious” life situations. He was the essence of roll-with-the-punches and he worked for almost 30 years to teach me the value in not taking myself too seriously and not letting negative situations ruin my day. My dad taught me things that I discover even now, after he’s gone, as I become ready to receive the knowledge that was once just words. Today I’ll share three, because, Father’s Day. And because, well people like things in threes.

Mind over matter.

When I became an adult my dad told me that as a child, I was either too hot, too cold, tired, hungry, thirsty, or had to pee.

I sound like a bundle of joy, eh?

I can remember a painful hike in particular, summertime in Phoenix, where I’m pretty sure I used all of these excuses. I don’t think we turned around and luckily none of my family members murdered me. I can hear his voice now, reminding me that I just needed to tell myself that I was ok, and I would be ok.

What was beautiful about my dad’s way was that he was strong enough in his stance to push me to my limits in any given moment, and loving enough that I felt safe if it ever went too far — in case my chilly fingers were, in fact, early signs of hypothermia (BTW, never). He was Superman and he could save me from anything.

More recently, though, as I entered my 30s and became a student of meditation, my dad’s mindset was loud and clear. His attention to the current moment and to the mind’s ability to recognize and work through suffering was so evolved — I don’t think he even knew it. As I became more comfortable in my skin and more confident in my life, I heard his words echoing, reminding me that I am in control of the reactions to my situation and actually, my thoughts can transform any moment so long as I choose. I feel his words in my breath as I practice daily to never be a victim of circumstance.

You can do this.

I am not an all-star athlete. Quite the opposite. I grew up as a gymnast and a dancer, but never heartily pursued either after high school, and I had a few chapters where I got somewhat comfortable golfing. However, if you threw a baseball my way, I was likely to somehow get injured (yes, I’ve been to the emergency room because of a co-ed intramural softball warm-up. Not game. Warm. Up.) and although I longed to be “one of the boys” as a kid, I was the one who ruined it for everyone by getting hurt.

Now, don’t feel sorry for my dad — my brother is an all-star everything, so he got pretty lucky. But he believed in me and wanted to participate in sports with me as a bonding activity. He gave me countless golfing lessons and we played in his club’s Father-Daughter tournament. This may sound pretty unremarkable, but here’s the really special part. I can remember zero times when my dad got frustrated with my lack of skills. Zero. I could never drive the ball farther than 120 yards and by the time we made it to the 8th green, I was often on the verge of tears. I tried to give up so many times out of frustration and shame. How could this man’s daughter (my dad won most of the tournaments he played in) be so terrible at this sport? His buddies had daughters who rivaled him off the tee…and then there was me.

None of that mattered. My dad was so proud of me — for exactly who I was — and all he cared about was making sure I became more confident in my abilities. He wanted to be sure that I knew I could do anything, and he calmly stood by my side coaching me until I learned it for myself. To this day, when I step up to a tee I hear his coaching voice and am able to enjoy a relaxed backswing, knowing, that whether in golf or in life, I can do anything.

Are you having fun?

So this one is the best one and the hardest one. My dad was diagnosed with young-onset dementia in his 50s. For almost every person reading this, you can think of someone in your life with dementia. Usually that person is in their 80s or 90s and we talk ourselves into being comfortable with that being “a part of getting old” (it’s so not. But that’s a different blog post). For our family, we would see this young, able-bodied man with a brain that was slowly ceasing to operate in its normal functions.

He had aphasia early (distortion of speech) so he sounded like he was drunk all of the time. I share this important information because until the moment my dad could no longer speak, he continued to ask me if I was having fun. It was harder to understand and went from Are you having fun? to a slurred having fun?, but I knew what he was asking. It was soothing beyond measure.

This is complex for a few reasons. One, it’s clearly heartbreaking to watch your dad lose his mind and lose his ability to truly communicate with you…and when there is one phrase that holds it all together, you learn to cherish those words and their meaning beyond all else. Two, I am a serious person. Much to my father’s dismay, his efforts of loosening me up were not really effective until much closer to his death. I’m one of those “I will change the world” kind of humans and I always thought that I had to be very serious and focused to make that happen. He never stopped asking because he knew how beautiful life can be when you enjoy each moment for what it is.

I’m grateful to my dad for using these words and to the magic of long term memory for allowing him to keep these words until the end. These words have transformed me. When I’m having a stressful, on-the-verge-of-a-breakdown kind of day, I can still get back to these words and make a choice to change my mindset.

Dads. Dads are special. Whether they’re a father in the official sense or a dad in a multitude of other ways, dads possess a power no other role really can.

I’m grateful for the dad I had and the woman I’ve become as a result. I recognize that there are many people who did not have a father like mine, and that may still cause pain for you today. Some of you also have lost your dads, and some of you may have lost a child or desperately want to be a father but cannot for some reason. Life is messy and complex, and if you need to borrow my dad’s advice, please do.

I think it applies to us all.

We’re all in this together, and what’s the point if we’re not having fun?