Father's Day: The Annual Emotional Escape Room

10 tips for getting out and staying in charge

01 Wake up and immediately check your phone. Go ahead, groan at how the algorithm has already decided you either have a father worth celebrating or are one. Put the phone face-down. You’re better than the algorithm. Full stop.

02 Make yourself something good for breakfast. Something that takes a little effort, costs a little extra, or comes with syrup. Not as a reward, but because it’s Sunday and you’re here. The day is going to need something sweet in it anyway.

03 Do not, under any circumstances, go to brunch. It will be full of dads. They will be wearing the same shirt in multiple sizes. Out front: rocking chairs no one ever rocked you in. Inside: a game of checkers no one ever taught you to play. Also biscuits. The biscuits are not his fault. The biscuits are perfect. You will eat three of them and feel terrible. That will also be about him. You will have feelings about all of this in a Cracker Barrel, and that is not where your feelings deserve to happen.

04 At some point today, someone will ask “Are you doing something special for your dad?” with the cheerful confidence of someone who has never considered that the answer might be complicated. You are permitted to stare at them for five full seconds before responding. Suggested options:

a) “I’m continuing the family tradition of not speaking.”

b) “No, he’s dead.”

c) “I’m celebrating the people who stepped up to do his job.”

d) “For my dad? No. For myself? Absolutely.”

e) Nothing. Just stare. Let them figure it out.

05 Watch something with a terrible fictional father. This is both cathartic and efficient. Recommended: anything with a king in it. They’re always awful, and they always fall. Let it be a whole thing.

06 If you feel sad, feel sad. You are not broken for grieving something you never properly had. That is actually the correct response. Your nervous system is doing its job.

07 Call someone who gets it. Not necessarily to talk about him, just to talk. To be reminded that you exist outside of his story, that you have a whole life that was built on the other side of whatever he didn’t give you.

08 Do something with your hands. Write, garden, build, cook. Make something. You learned to make things because no one was making things for you. That’s a terrible origin story. You deserved better. You ended up being your own father. Therapy costs about as much as keeping a reflecting pool clear of algae; the difference is, yours stays clean. You’re better at this than he ever was.

09 At some point today, get yourself an ice cream treat. Not as a metaphor. Not as self-care. Just because it’s summer and you’re still here. Some things are allowed to be simple.

10 Go to sleep. Across the globe, millions of people are doing exactly the same thing — putting this day to bed, pulling up the covers, exhaling. You did it together, even if you didn't know it. You got through it with your dignity intact, which is more than we can say for him. Rest. You deserve it.


What's your go-to coping strategy for Father's Day? Drop it in the comments. Let's make sure no one's doing this alone.

Keeping it real and creatively visible,
🍫 Meagan

 
 
Next
Next

The Story I’m Not Ready to Tell (Yet)