I’m not sure if you can help me but I’ve no one else to turn to.
My Father is something of a control freak and added to that he’s an extremely successful lawyer. I’ve had my entire life mapped out for me since I can remember and now find myself in a very unsatisfying position of climbing the ladder in a career that I neither care about nor have any interest in whatsoever.
I’m tired of trying to be someone who my Father wants me to be. I can’t live up to his standards. I’m 99% sure that if I open up to him he won’t understand and that our already rocky relationship will cease to exist completely.
Help me Dr Jannie, please help me!
Aching to be free.
Dear Aching to be free,
When Bismarck and I were growing up on the farm Mummy used to keep track of our good behaviour with a star chat which she kept pinned to the kitchen wall. The concept was simple: 5 gold stars would result in a reward for the well-behaved son, but on the flip side even the most minor of indiscretions would lead to a star being removed from the offending bad boys’ total.
For a number of reasons, one being his uncontrolled rage, Bismarck never quite managed to crack the magic number of 5 gold Stars, and I knew it was starting to bug him. I can clearly remember seeing the burning jealousy on his face one evening as I enjoyed the prize of an extra plate of meat at supper: “Eat up Fatty” he hissed at me before storming off from the table in a huff.
After that Bismarck really made an effort to keep his anger bottled up and to appear like a normal boy. Eventually his hard work paid off in the form of 4 gold stars, his best achievement yet. One more star and he would’ve been seen as the “Good Son”, something I wasn’t about to let happen.
Now I knew that the easiest way to get Bismarck to snap would be by mentioning something saucy about “Antjie” and decided that the supper table would be the perfect place for this happen. That night, to get things rolling I gave his shin a sharp kick under the table and followed it up with a cheeky extended index finger. Then, when Mummy wasn’t looking I turned to Bismarck and whispered: “I saw Anjtie in her bikini down at the dam“, sat back and waited for the fireworks to begin. About 5 seconds passed before he suddenly shot up from his seat, grabbed a fistful of mashed potato and slammed it into my face whilst screaming: “Eat this Jannie, you dick!!! Eat this!”. Mummy cried out in horror and before I knew it Groot Opua had wrestled Bismarck into a “Camel Clutch Headlock”, which as I’m sure you can imagine brought about a swift end to our supper.
Needless to say Bismarck never made the step up to the “Good Son”, and although I’m not particularly proud of my actions, I do believe that sometimes good boys do need to play dirty.
Be who you need to be “Aching to be free”, and go well!