Dysfunctional family pondering: mostly about my father

[carbonel]

(possible trigger warnings for somewhat-yucky family stuff)

Every year, I read the Dysfunctional Families Day blog post at Making Light, which leads me to think about my own situation. By pretty much any standard, my family was mostly functional. My father had anger issues, and we went through family counseling when I was in grade school. I don't actually know how much it helped, but I don't remember family stuff as being the main misery at that point. I was the weird one at school, and was subjected to a lot of bullying, mostly verbal rather than physical. At home, I got the "just ignore them and they'll go away" advice for dealing with it, which wasn't true, and didn't help.

High school was actually a relief in some ways, because mostly people ignored me instead of belittling me. But my memories of teen years are mostly a miserable black hole. I don't know how much of it was that (in retrospect) I'm pretty sure I was clinically depressed in a way that modern medical tech could have helped -- but that didn't exist in the early 1970s.

And yet.

I've been reading Captain Awkward, which is an advice column started by a neophyte film maker who was tired of mentally arguing with Dear Prudence, and decided she could do better, or at least differently. (description of CA subculture deleted as irrelevant)

And in a post about funerals and toxic relatives, someone posted this:

My main memories of my grandmother are laced with snide comments about my appearance while I was an awkward teenager ("Are you trying to make yourself ugly?" "Don’t you ever want to have a boyfriend?" "What on earth are you wearing now?")

And I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, just reading that. This was exactly my father's mode when I was a teen. I remember him asking me just those questions. How could you respond to something like that? If I had a bad report card, it was "Don't you ever want to get a decent job?"

It led to an awful lot of my hiding out in my room and reading, which in turn led to "Why do you want to spend all your time lying on your ass?" I would like to think that he actually thought he was being helpful, or at least that he didn't know any better communication mode, but mostly what it did was reduce me to an incoherent state of rage and misery.

Thankfully, I survived it. I graduated from college (albeit thinking of myself as somewhat of a failure, because my father persuaded me that not having straight A's meant I would never get into medical school -- my lifelong plan), got a job, and moved to Minneapolis.

And eventually my father learned to deal with me as an adult. I doubt he realizes how much it meant to me, that first time he called me for help with some computer problem. A couple of times, he's said that he's proud of me. I'm quite sure that the daughter he got isn't really the daughter he would have requested on the ideal-daughter questionnaire, but we've learned to cope.

He'll be 81 this spring, and he's had serious medical issues for the last 10 years or so; but now, in addition to the physical, he's having memory issues. His mother had Alzheimer's, and his father Parkinson's, so I really hope I inherited the much better genes on my mother's side of the family. I don't know how much longer I'll have him around. I've been sort of wondering if there's any kind of closure or relationship mending I need to do. Because if I'm going to, I think now is the time.

If anyone else has thoughts about family relationships that they're willing to talk about, I'd be interested in reading what you have to say. I've enabled anonymous posting without screening for this post.

Comments

[xinef.livejournal.com]

I got along relatively well with my parents, while growing up, so can't comment along those lines. But I wonder how many parents get the kids they would have requested on the "ideal-offspring questionnaires" that every parent fills out at the birth of a child! :) (my best guess - NONE)

Family

[homemakerj.livejournal.com]

Well, this is sort of the opposite of what you're looking for, but three different people that had issues with me, called and apologized within the year of their death.

[(Anonymous)]

Yes, this is the time for mending/closure, because you sound ready, and as everybody knows, there are no Mulligans when Death is on the line.

I had emotional abandonment issues with both my parents from an early age (I was eight when my 1-year-old brother was determined to be developmentally disabled, and all of their support systems shifted to him). My mother and I came to an understanding about this back around 1990, when, for the first time ever, I asked her point-blank and in person about it, and she said, "Yes. We did do that. You were already so smart and independent-minded, we thought you'd be okay on your own." It was said so matter-of-factly, that I was floored. When I recovered, I replied, "Mom, I was *eight*." She thought about that, and then she apologized. I accepted it, and felt a huge release of excess mental baggage.

The thing is, I wasn't able to have the same conversation with my father, who died without warning in 1979 at the age of 52. I wish I'd had the opportunity to have a heartfelt chat with him, and never did, and never can. So I say have a talk with your father. Truthfully, what is the worst that could happen? And what is the best?
--Alex

[lydy.livejournal.com]

People can surprise you. Sometimes, it's worth the risk because they might rise above your ability to imagine what they'll do. But I always ask myself, "Is there anything I can imagine that this person could say that would make things better." If the answer is "no," I often don't risk the encounter, because I know that there are things they can say that will make things worse. So, it might be worth the risk, but it's tough.

You have gotten the gift of being able to get on with things. That's incredibly valuable. My dad and I never got that. We could never get beyond the baggage. That was partly my fault, maybe, but you know, I don't regret it. The potential cost was always too high.

On the gripping hand, I did risk it with my mother. I asked her why she stayed with my dad after he threw her suitcase down the stairs and almost threw her down the stairs. There was a world of hurt in that question. Why didn't you protect me? Why did you let him do those things to us? Where were you? You were the adult, why didn't you---? And she said, "Lydia, it was 1965." And many things became much clearer. And bunches of forgiveness came from that. The other big piece, of course, was my asking her, when she asked me a particularly stupid question, "Do you really want to know the answer to that?" and she said, "No." It was the beginning of us building decent boundaries. Also invaluable.

You know, you got damaged. And I think your dad owes you an apology. But I don't know your family system well enough to evaluate whether this is a worthwhile risk, or if it would be better to rest on your laurels. It's a hard one.

Many hugs anyway.

long story

[snippy]

I'm no success story if the success you're looking for is closure from a parent, but I am one if you count closure with yourself.

My mother was emotionally abusive and physically neglectful (father out of the picture, divorce when I was 5 and very little visitation). She told me I was ugly, that being smart wasn't worth anything, that it was my own fault nobody liked me (I was a book-loving introvert); she compared me unfavorably to my pretty, compliant, conventional, dress-loving little sister and told me she was everyone's favorite. She forced physical affection on me in the way of that time (go hug your aunt!) and told me that she shaped my tastes in music, literature, entertainment to be her companion in old age (after all, nobody else would want me, see above). She died in 2004 at age 63 of lung cancer without ever apologizing or changing her tune.

I did my work in therapy, and in my own life. From having kids myself I could tell she loved me in her own way, even if she didn't act lovingly toward me; from experiencing her parenting I learned not to play favorites and make sure both my children were loved as individuals for their strengths and talents in my words and actions. In therapy I expressed my pain and grief over this relationship and, when I found out my mother was dying, I set my boundaries about how much and what kind of time to spend with her. I had years previously told her I wanted an apology and to be treated better and when she said no, I mostly cut her out of my life until she told me she was dying.

When she died I grieved the relationship I wished we'd had, and I grieved the death of my dream that someday she might apologize.

[catalenamara.livejournal.com]

My parents both passed away while I was in my 20s. It was way too early for me to consider the types of conversations I would have had with them if there had been more time. But, in retrospect, and at the distance of 30 years, I doubt if any conversations we would have had would have cleared the air on anything. I remember the one time I tried to have an honest conversation with my father and he said, almost casually, "If you think (such and such) you're no daughter of mine." He then kept on talking as if the subject had never come up.

When I was younger, shortly after they both passed away, I did think quite a bit on the things we could, maybe should have talked about. But now I don't think having those conversations in RL would have helped one bit.

You still have time if you want to do this. If you do try to open communications it may lead somewhere - or it may not. Now's the time if you want to proceed.