Hi guys!
Okay, I think a little background info is in order before following up on my
last post.
As I've mentioned before, it's been years since I cut off contact with my parents. Five, in fact.
At that time I wasn't sure how long it might be. I didn't really have a plan, I just knew that for my own sanity, I needed some distance and time to heal from the abuse and neglect of my childhood, and that just wasn't happening as long as they were in the picture. I tried to be nice about it, but really, there's no way something like that doesn't hurt. And I hate hurting people.
A year later I checked in with my mother while she was visiting a friend who lives near me. I told her I still wasn't ready to resume contact.
Another year passed and that's when I confronted my father (as I
wrote about and linked to in my previous post). That was three years ago.
I described part of my journey to this point in
a talk I gave this past April, which explains how I was able to get to the point I was at last Christmas Eve, when I sent them a long email,
the heart of which was to tell them:
I’ve been working hard and praying hard, and I want you to know that I forgive you both for the things that you did, and didn’t
do, which have caused me pain. I know you are both good-hearted people
with good intentions. We kids were a handful and you did what you
could, and some things you couldn’t do, but we all at least survived, and I’m
grateful for what I’ve learned so far in my life. I really am."
So
again, I want you to know that I do forgive you, and I’ve been praying
for you both, but unfortunately I’m still very uncomfortable about
having you in my life. And I’m sorry about
that, but it’s just where I’m at.
Which brings us up to this past Saturday when my father called.
Since you're probably curious to know, I will tell you that overall, dinner went pretty
well. I was noticeably quieter than usual; not really
comfortable, but trying to be pleasant. But my typically reserved, "back row kind of guy" husband
really stepped up to the plate and was conversant, engaging and sociable. My sweet girl was her cheery, normal self. And even Gator, who didn't really want to go, also did just fine. It all made me feel so supported, thankful for, and in love with my little family! (And then I came
home and had several lovely notes of support from my bloggy friends. I
my bloggy friends! Thanks for the notes and emails!)
As we were leaving the restaurant my father asked if there was a time we could talk before they left town. I didn't have my calendar on me,
so I told him I'd call and let him know. (By the way: Did you know that buying yourself a little time in situations like this is actually part of having
healthy boundaries? I didn't realize that until my therapist mentioned it yesterday.)
I can't say I actually wanted to meet again, but I felt like I should at least make an effort to hear what he wanted to say. So I called Sunday night and arranged to meet for breakfast on Monday morning. At the last moment, my mother asked if it was okay to bring my brother Davis along. "ABSOLUTELY!" (SO glad I didn't have to do it alone!)
We met at IHOP and after a few minutes of chitchat my dad dove in. I wasn't sure if he was going to announce that he was terminally ill and had just weeks to live, or what. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that really, it was just about the family stuff.
One thing they were both a bit confused about was how come things aren't better between us, since I've supposedly forgiven them. We (Davis and I) had to explain that there is a huge difference between forgiveness and trust. And honestly, I don't think that he EVER realized this before. I could see the dawning of understanding in his eyes as we explained this concept to him. Forgiving him didn't mean we trusted them, or felt comfortable being with them.
I should have used the example (but I didn't think of it at the moment) of Sigfried and Roy, who had the most visited show in Las Vegas, until one night during a performance, Roy was bitten on the neck by a seven-year-old male tiger named Montecore, and dragged off the stage. He suffered severe blood loss, a stroke and partial paralysis and has spent years in rehabilitation.
These men loved that tiger. They'd raised him from a cub and spent time with him every day of his life. But this event changed their relationship forever. They could forgive the tiger (if you'll excuse the example of forgiving an animal...this is a metaphor after all), they could even still love the tiger, but the trust they once had was shattered, and their show had to be permanently cancelled.
Sometimes when things are serious enough, trust won't ever be restored 100%--at least in this life. My parents have a long way to go before I will be in a position to really trust them again.
The other really big thing was explaining to my father that we think he has very high-functioning Asperger's, or something along those lines (my totally unprofessional diagnosis)...because he has always had a massive blind spot that he doesn't even realize is there when it comes to social issues and how interpersonal relationships work. This was totally news to him, but all three of us insisted unanimously that it's true.
It was like trying to explain to someone that can't see the color red that there's this whole part of the spectrum that most of us are aware of, but that they didn't know existed. And we didn't realize he couldn't see it all this time, but we're starting to put the pieces together.
So now, having had this brought to his attention, perhaps he can do some research and gain some knowledge about the matter that might make it easier for him and those around him in the future. He just really doesn't understand how some human interactions work, and that is part of the problem (though it doesn't account for his uncontrolled temper, which thing never really did change even after the sexual abuse stopped. Discussing this part may help him be aware of why we're uncomfortable even now.)
I can't honestly recreate much of our breakfast conversation WHICH LASTED FOUR HOURS, (made sure he left the poor, underpaid waitress a really big tip), but ultimately I feel like there was some movement for all of us I think, and over all it was probably a good thing that we had the talk. I agreed to allow limited email communication, and I was able to say some things that I probably needed to say.
I know I don't have all the answers about this whole matter of healing and forgiving deep wounds. I'm no expert, but I DO I feel like I'm being led along, tweaked and turned in ways that will
ultimately help in the (in-depth, never-ending, intensive) refining
process, and I’m just trying to be humble enough to let myself be helped
if possible. I share my journey here in case it might in some small way help another in their own life.
I really do hope that my parents can continue to learn and progress so that things can really improve for them. It kind of seemed like they were still hyper-focused on me, and trying to get me to change so that things would be "all better" in our family. I may have imagined it, but it felt like maybe they realized there were things that they still need to do and CAN do on their end. So that gave me hope.
Thanks again for the support during this experience. It means a lot to me!
xoxo,
Blue
PS: I really will be getting to the promised Drama Triangle. Soon!
