The material presented
here is not Al-Anon Conference Approved Literature. It is a method
to exchange
information, ideas, feelings, problems and solutions on a personal
level.
Since my dad got back from Nicaragua, all he can obsess about is money. And, more specifically, how much I cost him in money. As I sat on the phone with the health insurance agent (if nothing changes, nothing changes, right?) I thought I had secured everything and had it all worked out. I thought. My father felt differently. Very differently.He insisted I was going to get medicare. Now. I tried to persuade him I'd tried before to get medicare, unsuccessfully. He insisted that now that he was involved, I'd be getting medicare, darn it. And as I stood in the main room of the house, listening to him rant, rail and rage, it occured to me, another "Reese Witherspoon moment:" it wouldn't matter if the insurance, the classes, if anything I needed from him, cost $1. It was that I was attached to him. It was that I was an expendeture. It was that, simply put, I was costing him money. And it all came together then. Why nothing I did mattered, why I was never good enough, why I was never important; why no matter how hard I tried I was never valued in my father's eyes, why no matter who I was important. It was that I was a thing, an expense and a burden. It was that, to my father, I was "that thing." And I got really, really quiet. "You know Dad," I said, just so quiet and so calm, for the first time I think in my entire life, "I feel so sorry for you. I used to be so angry at you. I used to hate you. With everything I had in my bones I hated you. The way we fought. The way you talked to me. The way you screamed at me. The way you hit me, the way you beat me, the way you dragged me. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter to you. It doesn't matter how I have migranes or depression or PTSD. It doesn't matter. I feel so sorry for you. You hate your life. You hate everything about your life. You hate your job, your family, me. You hate yourself. I feel so sorry for you." And I picked up my books, and said "Good bye Dad." I then sat in the car and sobbed, just sobbed, because it all clicked. I can't explain it. It wasn't simply that my parents are "sick." It was that, no matter what, my parents are never going to be "well." No drug rehab, no psychiatrist, no therapist, will ever make my parents "normal." They are too "ill." I realized too that no amount of growth on my part is a mandate on theirs to grow. And no amount of mental health on my part will persuade them a need for mental health, either. I did, eventually, get in touch with my sponsor. And we talked for a little under an hour. I said "There were two big things I realized, Marge: as I sobbed in the car, and couldn't get a hold of anyone, I felt the presence of God. Now I don't think anyone's ever gonna have a burning bush, I could be wrong, but I realized that, some how, things were gonna be ok. God was there, because somehow, I started breathing normal an' all. Some how, I stopped sobbing and the tears slowed down. Somehow, I knew it was gonna be okay. And I knew what I had said right to my dad was the truth--the honest truth not some coughed up lie to make it okay. The other big thing I realized is that, I really do feel sorry for the guy. He's never gonna know what it's like to have a normal relationship. I can't have my kids around him [when I have them, understand]. I can't have a relationship with him. He's too sick Marge. He's very, very sick. And, even if he does stop drinking, and get help, and so on and so forth, well, what then? What about everything he did before that? does his not drinking anymore make it all right now? Does his getting sober fix everything he did before then? Because he's really ruined alot of lives because of his mental illness and behavior, and....it's sad Marge, it's really, really sad." I gave one of those sighs that you give to a friend when there's no words left. Marge reassured me that this is where you let God do his job, sans advice, and suggessted I go on to bed. That, indeed, things will be okay, and yes, it is sad. It is very sad. But she was proud of me: I was calm, I had let my Higher Power run the show, and I had seen the power of a higher power. So that's where I'm at. I hope that this helps some new person see that just because someone won't quit doing their thing doesn't mean the program doesn't work. I also hope this shows other people that the program works when you can't. Thanks for listening. And for being here--god knows I've needed you something terrible this past year.
Both my parents are dead. They have been dead now quite a few years, before that I had absolutely no contact with them for over 15 years. I have to say its taken me years in therapy and in program to stop seeing what they did to me as "personal" to me. Only this week I realised that the way one of my roommates behaves reminds me of my mother and how ill she was all her life. The issue for me was ill or not ill they were all I got. I had no one else. I have had to work so hard on my program not replacing them and my sisters with carbon copy images.
I also know what it is to be treated as worthless and not valued. I struggle with that a great deal.
Tiger, this is a great post. I have recently really missed my mom which is so very strange because I never miss her. I have NEVER EVER missed being with her, even when I was a kid and away from her some times. She is alive and 80 and living far away from me. I am sitting and experiencing what it feels like to miss my mother for like one of the first times in my entire life. In a way, its a treat because to miss someone means that you had some good time with them or experienced something loving and positive with that person. I love my mom alot but I cannot spend much time with her. She does not drink but she is also not in recovery. She is not available to really love or care for anyone, she is very narsissitic. She was a horrible parent but she did the very best she could have done, I know that now and I have forgiven her completely and can laugh at what she does now. But we have so many bad years and many years when we were not in touch at all in any way. I was so angry and tried so hard to get her to love me the way I wanted her to love me. I wanted so badly to have a mom who was nice and friendly and helpful and kind and who would appreciate me and praise me for something some time. She could not do those things because of her disease and I understand that now. She was always, always afraid and she still is. I cannot help her not to be afraid of everything. I wish I could because she is a frail old woman but I cannot help her. Fear (like happiness) is an inside job. Hugs, J.
I had to compose myself before I could post after reading that. You have no idea how much you have helped me today.
I honestly thought I had dealt with a lot of issues concerning both of my parents these past few years.
My increasing depression has gotten to the point that I started back up in therapy. There are some very painful things coming up again that I apparently haven't resolved.
It is incredibly sad to finally realize that a parent or parents will never really be the kind of parent/s we want or need.
It is a grieving process.
Keeping you close to my heart and in my prayers (((hugs)))
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"If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience." - Woodrow Wilson
....and the child rises from the dark soot and ash of her upbringing , holds her arms outstretched toward the sun and breathes deeply the clean healthy air that fills her with love of self.
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If we think that miracles are normal, we will expect them. And expecting a miracle is the surest way to get one.
If I thought I had dealt with the neglect, the dismissal, the anger, the disapproval, the fear, the dominant demanding stern brutish bulllying admonishments from my (90 year old) father and the detached, stern, straight faced dismissal from my mother (sadly only recently deceased) before I read you post; then I certainly realised that I had not dealt with any of it at all by the time I got through your share. And I too lost all composure - no stiff upper lip in sight.
This really is a remarkable journey that I have begun with this family.
I am considering investing something of my menial income in KLEENEX TISSUES, I seem to be going through so many.
However, if tears are drops of sadness released, which are turned into gold, then I am rich indeed and getting richer by the minute.
Thank you, thank you, thank you...guess that is another fourth step for me to do at some stage. They are all jumping out of the box now, and rushing to line up in my journal begging for attention.
HeartB
-- Edited by Heartbroken at 20:52, 2008-01-23
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"The highest form of wisdom is kindness." The Talmund
Fortunately I have not had to deal with that kind of criticism from my immediate family. At least not since getting divorced... LOL.
But, a couple years ago I was visiting a friend I get to see maybe once a year. He had gone through a divorce and health issues, and was presently juggling at least two ongoing relationships and several more potential ones. Three of them called while I was there, each one taking 30 to 60 minutes while he kept them hearing what he thought they wanted to hear. In between phone calls, he berated me about my weight... and my lack of a relationship at the time... we're talking about a guy a few years older, but not exactly in a parental role here. It was quite obvious that his existence was miserable. But rather than just unloading his misery on me, he was trying to drag me into it - presumably for my own good.
He finally said to me, "I can just tell you're unhappy - lose weight, dress better, get a haircut - and you could be like me!"
All day long, I had been at a loss for words - I didn't know how to respond to any of this, so I just let him go, occasionally changing the subject to something more interesting, or just asking questions about his situation. But with this line, he handed me the comeback... which I had to word carefully lest I bust out laughing:
"Aren't you comparing my outsides to your insides? You are judging me and my happiness by your own standards, without standing in my shoes."
He paused and said, "Well you have a point."
We proceeded to have a very pleasant rest of the afternoon and dinner....
