Soundtrack to my life
I bloody love P!nk. I feel a bit ridiculous writing that as a 43 year old guy but there you go. I’m out of the closet.
As a teenager I remember being captivated by this striking girl with cropped bright pink hair, riding a motorbike through the window of her deadbeat ex-boyfriend in the video to There You Go. She was unlike anyone I'd seen before.
Since then her music has been there for me at so many critical moments. Her lyrics inspire me often, and also hit me hard at times.
A couple of years ago I was at a low point in my battle with food addiction. I was binge eating in secret almost every day and gaining weight.
I'd get myself under control for a day or two but it never lasted.
One morning I was getting my squats in. Sets of 5, pushing quite hard. I had P!nk's track Courage playing in the background.
I racked the bar after my first heavy set just as she sang the line “Have I the courage to change, today?”
That line hit me hard. I was overwhelmed with sadness and started crying.
The raw reality was I didn't know at that point if I did have the courage to change my addictive behaviours.
Just Say I'm Sorry
Her new album Trustfall came out recently. There are some incredible tracks there, including the opener about her Dad who passed away. That one gets me welling up every time.
But, the standout song for me is Just Say I'm Sorry, which is a beautiful duet with Chris Stapleton. It makes me think about my Dad, and the type of Dad I want to be.
I want my kids to trust that I will always be there for them. To make that happen I need to be trustworthy.
Research shows that one of the hallmarks of being trustworthy is to show low self-orientation. In simple terms, my kids have to believe that I care about them enough to put them first. I didn't always feel that with my Dad.
We learn parenting lessons from our own parents. Sometimes that is to do what they did for us, to try to replicate the positive influences.
Sometimes it’s to do the opposite.
Too hard to pull the trigger
My parents moved to the south of France when I was 16 years old. They've been there ever since.
When Jo was pregnant for the first time we went out there with her parents. The plan was to get our baby’s future grandparents together to - hopefully - start building their relationship and helping them bond over the prospect of a shared grandchild.
It was summer and we were having dinner on the patio outside. My Mum had cooked some lovely food and the wine was flowing. We had the three-drinks-in version of my Dad, high energy and cracking lots of jokes.
As time went on and the drinks kept coming a familiar pattern unfolded. My Dad insulted me, trying to be funny but missing the mark - a cruel jibe about how my belly was even bigger than my pregnant wife's. I made it clear I didn't find it funny but he doubled down on it.
I was triggered. I hadn’t yet learned how to handle my emotions in situations like this. I still find it hard today. Angry and embarrassed in front of my in-laws I left the table, leaving an awkward atmosphere in my wake.
The next day I thought he might apologise. Nothing. My Mum said he felt bad, but he didn’t say a word. The message I took was clear: he didn’t care about upsetting me.
In the past I've just fallen into line on things like this. Stepped back into the norms of my family where we don't discuss such things. Carried on as though nothing has happened.
I’m not sure why but this time I didn't. I kept bringing it up to make clear that I wasn't clear with him. It took about 3 months but he eventually sent me a sort-of-apology. It didn’t make me feel any better to force that out of him.
The most powerful line in Just Say I'm Sorry is this:
You say you'd die for me
So I don't know why
You can't pull the trigger
And kill your pride
Just say I'm sorry
It's not the hardest thing to do
I believe it when my Mum says he feels bad and doesn’t want to upset me but my wounded little boy, the very young part of me that was hurt as a child, desperately wants to hear it from him.
The reality is he can't do that.
Pulling the trigger to kill his pride is just too difficult. It actually is the hardest thing for him to do. The pain of his own wounded little boy stops him doing it.
The gift
His pain is a gift to me because I feel it too. My pride has made it hard for me to say sorry many times in the past.
I know that pain. That struggle. I don't want my kids to feel it.
I often get things wrong with my kid. Letting my frustration boil over into a raised voice, telling a joke that misses the mark, helping with something they want to do themselves.
When that happens now I take a deep breath or two. Swallow my pride. Say “I'm sorry, I get it wrong sometimes.”
I pull the trigger to kill my pride. That proud, stubborn part of me protected me when I was young but it doesn’t serve me, or them ,any more.
My pride needs to die, for the sake of my kids. Even when it’s the hardest thing to do.
Just Say I'm Sorry - P!nk & Chris Stapleton
Just say I'm sorry
It's not the hardest thing to do
Just say you're wrong sometimes
And I'd believe you
'Cause I love you
Just say I'm sorry
Everybody wants to be
The one who's right
Everybody wants the last word
To end the fight
Every day is a new day
With a chance to choose
Sometimes the way you win
Is to say you lose
Just say I'm sorry
It's not the hardest thing to do
Just say you're wrong sometimes
And I'd believe you
'Cause I love you
Just say I'm sorry
Love is a gamble
And the stakes are high
And all that's on the table
Is a bad goodbye
You say you'd die for me
So I don't know why
You can't pull the trigger
And kill your pride
Just say I'm sorry
It's not the hardest thing to do
Just say you're wrong sometimes
And I'd believe you
'Cause I love you
Just say I'm sorry
Just say I'm sorry
It's not the hardest thing to do
Just say you're wrong sometimes
And I'd believe you
'Cause I love you
Just say I'm sorry
'Cause I love you