By the time I was married with children, I had mastered two ways of being: either having no feeling or being angry. Needless to say, this was frustrating for those around me, especially for our children. But my wife, well versed in the art of feelings, and appreciative of my strengths and understanding of my shortcomings, helped our children understand that I really did care about them, that it was because I loved them that I reacted so often with anger.
Then we got divorced. At age 45 I was thrust into the roles of both mother and father during my 50% custody of our children. I was a good father. But it was the day that my son came home crying that I realized just how bad a “mother” I was.