It’s my son’s birthday soon and I have no money whatsoever to buy a present. Having been through two business bankruptcies and now personal bankruptcy I find myself a slave to the State having my salary taken from me every month. It’s an inhumane Swedish process that makes absolutely no sense to the individual or the economy. It’s a little like being in glass prison, being given existential minimum to live on for the next 5 years, I feel like the sponge that is being rinsed until dry as the driest desert.
This is the way in Sweden. No clean bankruptcy processes. Rather, after losing my home, my pension, my sanity, my credit rating which has made me rather unemployable as I work in commercial management one is then tied to a back of a horse and dragged through the dirt. Job after job I fly through the interviews, get to the final offer stage, and then they take a credit check. Unfortunately, I look like a serial killer on paper, and this is how one is treated. No explanation is even asked for, just the sound of a slamming door. Welcome to capitalist culture. I now have another 5 years hard labour, telling the kids all the time how I cannot afford to buy a burger, or those trainers, and Christmas will be like a certain Charles Dickens novel. Mustn’t grumble as at least we get medicine which is more than poor Tiny Tim. In fact, even in this desperate financial I remind myself that I am still probably in the top 20% of the global population. Living in Sweden alone is a privilege that many others do not have. I can see the impact on the kids from being very privileged children and a far less privileged level in Western society. With the right love and care I hope they take positive lessons from this and know that the quality in life is not based on material values though many others all of which are free.
Some may say, serves you right and maybe they are right. Though this story merely started by allowing and supporting my ex-wife to follow her dreams and start a business, which later lead to serial dishonesty, misinformation, financial incompetence, and acute debt. Not to mention ADHD, though I may go into that later. Only I found out after the fact and paid dearly. My home and sanity collateral damage, a home that I had paid for the past 25 years, a home that I kindly allowed my ex to be a part of.
Anyway, my son’s 13 birthday soon approaches and through many talks he has come to understand the situation we find ourselves. It has amazed me of the level of maturity he has shown, far more than I would expect from any 12-year-old. He scores straights B’s and sometimes A’s, scored in his football match last week and is so caring. Such a proud Dad.
He is inspiration personified. Now this may be read as parental favoritism though I am quite a tough parent, rather strict traditional English upbringing in a country where children have little to no rules or parameters. I must also remind myself that for all the awful times in the past few years my children have had an equally if not more hard time than myself. Through having to move they are now on 4th school in 3 three years and had to endure the parents splitting though both are doing well, all considered. I am genuinely proud of them both. Improved attention and activities with my children have been a very positive side effect of the past few years. Quality time. Real presence, real listening and real engagement.
It breaks my heart when I cannot buy him what I would like to on his 13th birthday. Though honestly, he doesn’t seem to mind if the love is there, the thoughtfulness the presence and engagement. We are in no position to think of anything else, being sad about the past or worried about the future, both are not important as the NOW and the now has never been so important.
At his Christening (not that we are religious at all – just the done thing in Sweden) I read the poem,” If “, by Rudyard Kipling and wrote a memorable note for him to remember. This was written on special paper and affixed on the inside cover of a Japanese cookbook, his favourite food.
To my most wonderful son on your 13th birthday,
It is not important whether life is good or bad as it is always full of both, what is important is that we positively learn from every experience, to grow and be better than we were before and focus on the things we love, have fun, and laugh whenever we can. Let failure be a teacher not your end. Try. Fail. Try again. Fail Better; this makes us rethink, reconsider and find new ways to reach our goals. Failure and mistakes are the steppingstones to success. The only real failure in life is not being true to the best one knows.
Life is a journey that you have experienced more than many of your age, embrace it and become wise, it will serve you well and possibly provide an advantage. I am so proud of who you are becoming and how you have learned to adapt. Your focus on achieving, your commitment to the things you love, your care and generosity, and strength in body and in mind. Your impressive IQ and EQ and your loyalty to those that count. You are forming a strong moral compass that will guide you through life. I am so very proud of you and learn from you every day. Life is full of challenges and when times are hard, I sometimes read this poem over and over and remind myself of how to be and how to think and revitalise my conviction. I hope it can do the same for you. Keep up the tremendous effort. Happy 13th birthday, love you always. Pappa xxx
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If— by Rudyard Kipling read by Hal Anbäck at his son’s Christening – 2009
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
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