I haven't blogged for about a month. I had my reasons for sure. It wasn't laziness. I feel as if I've been overflowing with thoughts I've needed to write. So I've kept notes. This blog today is one that I have felt was an important process in my journey.
This is a complicated issue, but one that as I look around me, I see in so many women. "Daddy Issues" start when we are very young and continue throughout our entire life. My dad and I have struggled in our relationship. I didn't know I had "Daddy Issues" until I got married. Getting married changes everything. The psychology of this is a lot of babble. Freud would have a hay day and probably did with a topic like this.
Last year I read a book called "Getting the Love You Want". I read it at my counselors behest. She felt that it could save my marriage. After reading it, I believe she was right. IF I had wanted it. The premise behind the book is that, as adults, we carry wounds from our childhood into our adult relationships, looking for a partner that closely resembles the primary caretaker in our life that inflicted those wounds. The 'old brain' recognizes this resemblance and tells the 'new brain'...this man will heal those wounds. He understands you. He 'gets' you. He will make it all better. Several years ago, I would never have read this book, let alone understand the psychology behind it. This past year, not only did I read it, I got it. And now, weirdly enough, I am seeing how if I don't recognize this as truth, I will continue to pick partners I think will heal me.
The book goes on to say that we are already with our "perfect partner". The problems in a relationship aren't about your partner ignoring your requests to empty the garbage every day The problems are being understood, listened to, validated and empathized with. If the person that meant the most to us growing up hasn't healed the old wounds from the old brain, the new partner can, and will, if a formula of communication is followed. I think if I had read the book with my ex just 4 years ago, I believe we would still be together today.
I can't paraphrase this book, but as I look over what has been going on in my life, the relationship I had with my ex, and now the "new" and improved relationship with my dad, it rings hauntingly true. Creepily so.
If the book is true, and I believe the theory is, I have seen it come back around full circle. Last June, I went to a marriage seminar with my husband. It was a last ditch effort to save the marriage. There were approximately 13 couples participating in the session. Throughout the weekend, we all participated in exercises in front of the group. I was quiet and observant through most of these exercises. It was painful to watch. Years ago, I would have willingly gone before this group and participated. This time, I didn't want to. I was too angry. Too closed. Too hurt and too far gone.
My husband asked if I would participate with him in one that was a role playing exercise. Reluctantly, I went forward. As the counselor directed the exercise, my husband and I sat facing each other. He took the role of my father and I took the role of me...going back to a moment when I was 16 years old. The memory was real and painful. The point of the exercise was to have my husband (my dad) "do the right thing" back in that moment when my dad did not. When I realized how vulnerable this made me in front of strangers in a small setting, I was furious. I couldn't hide the pain of that memory, I couldn't control the emotion in my voice and I was angry to be put in that position...again. Going back to that time frame, I felt like it had just happened again and it was almost more than I could handle.
After completing the exercise, I sat there, barely able to talk, in complete disbelief that I had just ripped a huge scab off something I thought I would never go back to again. The room was quiet, the counselor looks at me and gently asks..."How do you feel about that Tam?" I looked at her with hatred in my eyes and said..."like it was a joke, because it will never happen. My father will never say those things to me, he will never be able to admit he hurt me like that and...it was a fucking fantasy..." Her words were quiet and gentle.."You're right Tam, he will never, ever say those things to you', He will never be able to do the right thing to heal that moment'...but your husband can." I just stared at her in disbelief. Right. I knew it was over right then. I had years of proof that my father couldn't do the right thing and years of history of the same with my husband. I wish I could have believed in it then.
Funny thing, life. Just when you think one thing is true, something happens that proves that truth can be very subjective. Once I was finally able to put some space between my ex, let go of the marriage and file for divorce, I could start to see the big picture of what took place in my life. Again, this sounds like I am blaming my ex for my own weaknesses and immaturity and inabilities to accept my own responsibility and role in the failure of my marriage. I'm done blaming, but I'm not done thinking about it. My husband was only being who he was. Doing what he knew how at the time he was doing it. It wasn't always the right thing, but when have any of us ever done the right thing all the time? It was no different than me. Both of us had such deep wounds from our childhood that we put space between those who hurt us (our families) and systematicly expelled them from our life. He kept his parents at arms length and I did the same. We created our own bubble of the family circle and no one else was allowed in. We did it to keep the enemy out. We protected ourselves, our family. We were never going to allow that hurt in our life ever again.
By doing this, we became an island. Our "perfect" family against the world. The trouble with this, is that by closing yourself off from the chaos of normal family interaction, you isolate yourself from your family. You become unapproachable. Untouchable. My fence was so tall, that every time my dad tried to scale the wall, he would get snagged up on the barb wire and I would triumphantly and smugly, think "See, you bastard, you can't hurt me anymore. You can't penetrate the armor." My ex encouraged it. The same way I encouraged his isolation from his family. We were both guilty.
My history with my dad showed me I couldn't trust him to say the right thing, do the right thing or help me heal by admitting his role of my disfunction. We are all messed up in our own weird way. We can lay the blame for our disfunction for the rest of our lives or we can accept that "it was what it was" and move on to forgiveness. The thing I came out of that marriage weekend was exactly what the counselor said to me. "He will never do the right thing..." It was time for acceptance. I could love my dad for what he could give, or resent him for what he was unable to do. It was the beginning of healing. I began to let go. Instead of approaching every encounter with my dad with wariness and defensiveness, I began to look at him as being who he was. His actions toward me during this divorce have been shockingly supportive, sympathetic and loving. I was afraid to trust these actions. I held on to my pride and refused his offers of help for months. I held on to my sanity by a fragile thread and told everyone, including my dad, I was fine.
Now, with months of sadness behind me, days of optimistic enthusiasm ahead, I've been able to put things in order, back in the closet and getting rid of the crap that was holding me back from healing.
The sadness in this for me, is that it took so long. It took the end of my marriage for my dad and I to heal our relationship. It feels creepy. Thinking that now that my husband is out of the picture, my dad and my path to fixing what was wrong is finally clear. I'm sad that my husband and I couldn't see how much we were hurting each other by feeding the fires of hurt and pain in each others lives.
My dad came a week ago and stayed with me. He and I have not had one-on-one time together like this in years. I was wary. I was dreading it. Instead, what happened was so opposite of what I expected. During my dad's visit, we had many talks over wine every night. He let me cry. He saw the pain that is still there and the grief I have over the death of this marriage. Just because I was the one that wanted out, doesn't mean it hurts any less. He cried with me. He loved me. He told me how proud he was of me. At 49 years old, it's embarrassing to admit that I wanted my daddy to tell me he was proud of me. He told me that what I did; leaving my hometown, starting over, getting into college, connecting with a great group of friends, securing a job...all in 5 months, was not only something he was proud of, it was "damn impressive and BRAVE. " My dad thought I was brave. If only he knew how scared I've been....He did the right thing, he said the right things. He began the healing process I've always needed. Being able to start letting go of the past hurts felt like I'd lost 100 lbs.
There was a time when I hated calling my dad. I would dread seeing his name on the caller ID. I knew how many days passed before I made the obligatory phone call. I would keep everything generic so as not to stir any hurt up. My dad was as hurt as I was by the distance. Now, I talk to my dad almost as much as I talk to my mom. About every other day. We still talk a lot about the divorce, but mostly, he wants to talk about my plan to go on. My successes. He is making it easier for me to see what I want from a partner. What I don't want.
Life is short. But it can also be long. I take one day at a time. I don't plan to far ahead, I don't think too far ahead. I just live. Sometimes I fail, but it's okay, because tomorrow I will have success. I've noticed something about myself lately. I hear myself complaining about something stupid and I stop and find the glass half full again. I look for the positive. I love more. I am embracing. Whatever comes my way, I can handle it. I may have "Daddy Issues", but every other day, they get better. Every day, I am better. Happier. If only these lessons had come sooner...But thank God, they are here now.
