To the One Who Taught Me Life…Even Through His Flaws

Because June is Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month, and with Father's Day around the corner, I want to share something I rarely do —A piece of my heart… about my father.

I don’t talk about him often, but today, I missed him. Deeply. And writing this felt healing.

Like most girls, the first man I truly knew was my father.

He was an incredible person, self-made, deeply hardworking, and extremely disciplined.

Honestly, I used to think he would’ve made an excellent brigadier:)

He lost his own father very early in life, and that taught him many hard lessons as a child. It pushed him to take charge of his life before he even had the chance to feel ready.

He was also harsh sometimes, had a rigid view of success and failure, and wasn’t always kind to himself.

He took life seriously and wanted us, his kids, to be the best we could be.

His anger showed up often. It shaped a lot in our home. We, his children, each made our own meaning of it. As for me, I picked up early around age two that being the top student won his approval. And so, I chased excellence. I got pampered in return. That became my safe space in his world — achieving, excelling, earning love.

And in a patriarchal setup, sometimes, survival looks like performance.

But he also had his self-care routine. He loved his plants. We had over 300 at home, and he never hired a gardener. He’d be up at 5 a.m., starting his day with them, nurturing, nourishing, and connecting with those quiet pieces of his heart.

As a kid, I hated being woken up early. But now? I love early mornings. I see the magic in them, probably through his eyes.

He tried teaching me gardening many times, and I’d just ignore it. Strangely, the year he passed away, I suddenly fell in love with plants and put my heart and soul into learning. Now I even talk to them just like he used to.

Out of all the things I’ve picked up from him, one that stands out is this:Never give up.

Sometimes that made me push too hard. Forget I’m human. But I’ve worked on that. I’ve asked for help. And now I know, 'strength also means softening.'

His failed projects taught me something too:

It’s okay to fall.

It’s okay to cry.

It’s okay to pause before you rise again.

Being low isn’t losing. It’s preparing.

And then there’s one moment I’ll never forget. As a teen, I burnt the food, again. I hated cooking. I was crying. My mom was upset. But my dad sat beside me and said,

"It’s just spices in different proportions. Someday, you’ll write a recipe book."

He smiled. And that moment stuck with me. I heard the loudest message of my life:“You can do anything.”

In the last few years of my spiritual journey, I’ve come to believe that people enter our lives to love us, teach us, or help us heal. And I truly feel my father did all three.

I carry him with love. Not perfection. But gratitude.

For everything he was. And everything I learned from him.

💙 To everyone reading this, take a moment to remember someone who made a difference in your life.

Their quiet presence.Their support, love, or even just the way they showed up.

And to all the fathers, sons, brothers, and friends —We see you. You matter. Always have. Always will.

If this touched your heart, I’d love to hear from you.

Feel free to like and leave a comment, share this post with someone who might need it, or simply take a moment to reflect on your own journey with the men who shaped your life.

Let’s keep the conversation around men’s mental health going with love, kindness, and understanding. Thank you for being here.

With warmth,

Anupma

Therapist | Founder, The Happy Image Space

www.anupmagupta.com

📍 Bangalore | https://g.co/kgs/rnGBTnG |

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