When You Were Fun

Today, Troy came and found me, holding his little camera. He said, “Dada, do you know what I miss?” When I replied that I didn’t, held up the camera and showed me a picture of me making a funny face. “This,” he said. “I miss when you were fun. My life isn’t fun anymore.” It was like a dagger to my heart. All I could manage to reply was, “What would you like me to do about that, Troy? It’s hard to be fun, because I’m not happy.” He asked me why I’m not happy, and I told him that he’s too young to understand. He seemed to accept that answer, as he said, “Well, I AM only six.”

He then proceeded to cheer me up as only a six-year old could. He brought me his favorite stuffed animal, his favorite drawing, and his favorite toy. I told him that while I appreciated the gesture, it was going to take more than stuff to make me happy. Stuff can’t fix my heart, and it’s my heart that’s broken.

What Troy doesn’t know is that I also miss when I was fun. I miss laughing and playing with him too. But I’m so sad right now that it’s hard for me to muster up those feelings. It’s not that I don’t still have moments of acting goofy or making him laugh. It’s just not as frequent, so he doesn’t register or remember them. Instead of playing with him all weekend long, I’m more likely to tell him to go play alone with his toys, while I go do another load of laundry or wash another sink full of dishes.

I know it’s not fair to him. He’s only a child and to him it probably feels like he lost his father. I have often said that whichever way my mood goes, so goes our household. Which is both telling and incredibly unfair to me. I’m expected to stuff my feelings inside and put on a mask, so that everyone else can have a good time. Which I had managed to do for the last five years or so. But right now, I’m so depressed and burned out that I just can’t seem to do that. All those years of feelings are overflowing and spilling out of me. I know what I should do, but I just can’t seem to do it. It’s so overwhelming. And even when I try to drag myself out and play with Troy, it only lasts a short time. My heart really isn’t in it, and it doesn’t end up being the raucously good time that he had built up in his mind.

But I don’t want to be responsible for his life not being fun anymore. I don’t want him growing up faster than he should. And I truly don’t want to miss out on getting to play and laugh with him like we used to. I miss what we used to have. So, I guess I need to figure it out and quickly.