My Unbroken Story

My name is Zach Rhodes and this is my Unbroken story. About 10 months ago I decided to start a blog, in hopes that maybe through sharing my triumphs over adversity, and that my unique outlook on those trying times perhaps would inspire the people who read them to keep pushing through the darkness to find the light. Many of us have monsters in our closet, and it’s only when we bring those monsters to the light that we can truly set ourselves free. For 27 years I kept them locked away in the deepest part of my soul, and I spent 27 years blaming myself for lost relationships with not only my real father but two step fathers as well. I shouldered the burden of my real fathers workaholism and emotionally abusive girlfriends, while carrying the guilt of losing two step fathers along the way, both of whom were more like real fathers to me more than anything. I know my Mom feels incredibly remorseful for all we’ve been through, but I want her to know Im not angry, in fact I’m incredibly blessed. She gave me the best gift any son could ask for, she loved me unconditionally, taught me what to look for in a true soulmate, and above all she instilled my insatiable will to persevere no matter how rough the waters may be. I don’t look at my past as a crutch or excuse, I don’t feel like a victim, if anything I believe God put me through the tough times to prepare me for the future and all the obstacles I would face later in life. My heart is scarred and calloused, but much like broken bones that heal, the scars are tougher. And it's these scars that help me navigate the dark thicket of thorns that life sometimes entails.

What I am about to share with all of you is not for sympathy, it’s raw and it’s real, my true thoughts and feelings. I personally believe the experiences I had throughout life whether triumphant or painful, molded me into the man I am today. These experiences prepared me for all the adversity, twists, and turns that this road throughout life would throw at me. My only hope is that whoever reads this, can find some solace in their own trials and tribulations. Maybe it will help you overcome the little voice you have in your head, just as I did. Inside each and every one of us is the will to be the hero of the story of our life.

My Unbroken story started when I was about 6 months old. My mom and biological father had separated and divorced. Though I don’t remember much of it, its the constant back and forth visiting Dad on the weekends later on in life that stick out in my mind very vividly. Sadly, not many of them are good memories. My Dad was and still is a workaholic. A majority of my weekends spent at my Dad’s house were done from an RHP work van. As much as I hated that work van, I actually would’ve rather spent the entire weekend in that work van than with one of my Dad’s girlfriends. And to be honest with you I hated that work van almost as much as I hated his girlfriends, but it seemed to be the better option at the time.

Every weekend was filled with empty promises of going fishing, I would get my hopes up, so excited to go fish with Dad only to have them squashed by his relentless need to work. I often spent the weekend with his girlfriend and her son. Unfortunately for whatever reason my Dad’s girlfriend was full of anger and severely lacked patience. In fact she scared me so much, I would cling to my Dad’s leg every morning bright and early before he left for work, begging and pleading that he would take me with him. One time, I was so distraught and upset, the tears rolled down my face like a waterfall that wouldn’t stop. Her reaction was to throw me in a closet and lock me in a dark small space. Obviously terrified and helpless it only exacerbated my crying. She was an unkind woman, though she never actually physically abused me, she certainly emotionally and mentally abused me on more than one occasion. Perhaps my most painful memory was when she threw me in the bath tub and held my underwear in my face as she shouted profanities at me like I was a puppy who wasn’t quite house trained cause I had an accident during nap time.

My father was completely oblivious to the actions of his girlfriends, blinded by workaholism. The emotional and mental abuse didn't stop with the first one. His second girlfriend lacked grace and patience just as bad as the first one. Her biggest pet peeve, was the fact that I wet the bed. It peeved her so much that she felt the need to teach me how to use the washer, keep in mind that I was only in the first grade and wheel chair bound, healing from Achilles tendon lengthening surgery. I used to sit in the window of the upstairs family room and wait for my mom to come driving around the corner. I had K. T. Oslin’s “I’ll Always Come Back” on repeat on my walkman. My mom’s song to me, that reassured me even on my worst days she’d always be back for me. This pattern would continue up until I was about 9 years old, at which time he just stopped showing up for his every other weekend visits. Contact with my father would be limited to letters and birthday cards for the next two years, until he selfishly forced his way back in with court battles.

In the midst of my real father forcing his way back into my life, I lost my relationship with my stepfather from my Mom’s second marriage. This wasn’t just any old step father step son type relationship. The man was pretty much my father from the time I was 6 months old up until the divorce when I was about 11. I even called him Dad, never by his first name. He was Dad to me. During the divorce process things became very ugly between his oldest son and I, and I became very uncomfortable being around his eldest son. One weekend while visiting, I informed him right after my mom dropped my little brother and I off, that I was uncomfortable being around his eldest. He proceeded to push inviting him over anyway. I begged him one more time please don’t call him, I’m not ready. His reply stung, and cut deep. “You’re not my biological son, so I don’t care if I see you anymore.” I was utterly crushed. Those words are forever seared in my memory. It was at this time in my life when I started to shoulder the burden of all that was happening. I thought something was wrong with me, and took the blame for all that had transpired over the years. I always thought to myself what did I do wrong, or what could I do better. I became overly critical of every action.

Fast forward a couple years into my Mom’s third marriage. This man was completely different from the rest. He was by far, more of a father than my real father was or ever will be. He taught me how to rope, shoe horses, the value of a hard days work, and being respectful of my Mom. Him and his family showed great compassion toward me and my brother and took me in as one of his own. We spent many times talking about how God brought us together and how he truly felt as if he were my biological father. We would become very close over the years that followed and I would eventually change my last name to his, legally when I turned 18. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but one of my greatest memories with him is when I won the National Championship in the Super 7 at the ACTRA National Finals (team roping association, for those that don’t know what ACTRA is). Winning the Super 7 was by far one of my greatest accomplishments in the rodeo arena ever, it was so special because I struggled a lot with folding under pressure. My step dad was the first one to greet me in the arena when I rode back in, tears in his eyes and a giant hug. I will forever cherish that memory regardless of the events that transpired leading up to his and my moms divorce.

It wasn’t but 2-1/2 years after winning the Super 7, that I would be abruptly woken up to my brother and a family friend informing me that my step father had packed and left cause my mom and him were getting a divorce. I was instantly crushed and devastated. A flood of emotions hit me and I lashed out with anger and tears began to flow. All I could think was not again, I’ve lost another father, and why me. Looking back on this now, it was incredibly selfish of me to be thinking this way because I wasn’t the only one affected by the divorce. My step father and I met up for lunch one day, and to switch the cell phone account into my name. He broke down sobbing uncontrollably, incredibly regretful for what he had done. He begged for my forgiveness and told me that out of everyone he felt like he had let me down the most. He told me how much he loved me and that I would always be his son no matter what, he promised me he wouldn’t flake out and that we would continue our relationship beyond the divorce. Those words would later mean nothing. It wasn’t soon after that he had lost all contact with me, and greeting with a hug became a handshake.

Yet again my world had collapsed. I harbored some resentment for a while but in my heart I had forgiven him, after all, he was doing the best he could. I couldn’t change him as a person. There was a silver lining through all of this because I did begin to start having a decent relationship with my real dad. He had actually apologized for not always being there and for the next few years he actually attempted to be apart of my life. He even ended up driving to several pro rodeos with me just to video and watch. At that point in my life it was pretty hard to have a true father son relationship with him. Our relationship felt more like a good friendship than anything. Which wasn’t terrible at all, I was very thankful for that time with him. However the demons of his past and his vices would soon take over like they always had before. This time was the last straw for me.

In the winter of 2016, he had a new wife and his new wife instantly became his top priority. She came before all others, and he spent every waking moment with her. I drew a deer tag that year and in an effort to save how far our relationship had come I decided to invite him for my last chance to harvest a deer on the last day of the season. He had agreed to tag along and come help me but his words were nothing but hot air with zero intentions of actually coming with me. The weather wasn’t looking too promising the night before, there was a chance of snow and rain on the mountain. My heart sank immediately when my dad texted and said, “The weather is not looking too good, I’d hate to get all the way out there only to be stuck in the truck.” I instantly thought, would it kill you to drive 4 hours with your son, even if we get there to only have to turn around? I mean that’s all I ever actually wanted from him. It was his time. I didn’t want his money, or fancy expensive gifts, or hollow promises. I simply wanted his time. All the money and gifts disappeared with time. Memories are forever cherished, and that was the only gift he never gave me. I left the house at midnight and he chose to blow me off and sweep me under the rug. However, this would be a turning point in my life, it made me realize that eventually you can only do so much to keep someone around, at some point they have to make an effort back. I decided to cut ties with my dad for good. The toxicity of the relationship was no longer worth sacrificing my mental health over.

You know I say it a lot, that I write in hopes of helping other people overcome adversity. But in reality, after writing this post, I realize that writing actually helps me possibly more than it does you. It helps me see things in a different light. I’m 31 years old now, going on 32, and on the outside you don’t see it, but I’ve struggled many times in my life with the voices on the inside. Feelings of emptiness, regret, anxiety, disappointment, and lack of confidence in various aspects of life. Im overly critical of myself at times, and learning to love myself has been an incredibly long journey, but I’m trying everyday to keep taking one step forward in the right direction even if it’s only one inch at a time. Perhaps that’s the silver lining in all I’ve been through with the father figures in my life. For 27 years I shouldered all the blame, and the burden of their mistakes, I thought it was my fault, that I was inadequate or flawed. But in reality, it never was my fault, I’m not inadequate of flawed, I’m perfectly imperfect, and their actions have no reflection on who I am as a person. The greatest gift of all, is that God sent me three father figures, all of whom each gave me the best attributes in them to make me the man I’m striving to be, not just today but tomorrow and days to come. How many people can say that? I wasn’t blessed with just one father but three.

It’s not life’s circumstances that defines us, just like a ship that looks battered and weathered, does not determine its sea worthiness. Rather it’s the captain at the helm, who navigates the ship between the rocky shoals, and treacherous waves, through the darkest deepest depths of water, to find a sunny shore line on the other side. I choose to live life Unbroken, because I am the master of my fate, and I am the captain of my soul. Proverbs 3:5-6