talking about it
Jon and I were listening to a "This American Life" podcast the other night and during one of the segments, a woman was reading letters from openletters.net. The letters were from a woman writing to her teenage son's father who she had not been in touch with for many years. The letters were published on the web and he might or might not have been reading them at the time. One of the lines in one of the letters was "you take up a lot of room for a guy who's not here."
I murmured an "ummhmm" when I head this.
And I knew, this is where I could begin to talk about "it" here.
My parents separated 12 years ago and shortly after that divorced. Then, and for many years after, it was a time period known as "when my dad left." That was what it felt like and that was how the picture was painted by all involved.
The scars from that experience are the "thing" that takes up so much room even though it isn't here. The stuff from the past; the stuff one might sometimes talk about on a blog and sometimes just leave out. That is the "thing" that takes up space. Being "extra mature" and playing a role in my family that involved being "extra mature" is what takes up that room for me. Wanting to talk about it with people who do not want to talk about it, that is what takes up so much room.
I was a freshman in college at the time, going to school in my home town, so there was no "escaping" it; my parents' divorce was the center of my college years. The pain and confusion experienced by us all. And my role, as was always the case from my perspective, was to be the peacemaker, the strongest person, the people pleaser. I tried for years to balance it all. The pain balanced with my relationships with my mom, dad, and brother.
And, as usually happens, over the years you find a rhythm of how to deal with things. As any child of divorced parents knows, you lie here and there to protect the feelings of others (while desperately trying to protect yourself even though you don't realize it at the time), while trying to make sure everyone knows you love them. You panic. You try to balance the roles you play. You "wear many hats." You become the most adult person in your family. I was my mother's support person. I was also attempting to have a relationship with my father where I could let go of the past and the hope of a deeper relationship with him. And, it was working. In the last six years or so, my dad and I had come to a place where I enjoyed spending time with him. And with the addition of Jon coming into my life and my dad's girlfriend Anne, it became even easier for me. But, one of the reasons it became easier was because I had let go of something really big: I had let go of thinking I could help him with his drinking problem.
So, when he called in late January to say he was going to do something about his drinking problem, I was in complete shock. He had never admitted to having a drinking problem, let alone, talked about getting help for one. But, it was my own reaction that shocked me even more.
I was angry.
Anger is not an emotion I have spent a lot of time in. I am more likely to simply feel sad or lonely. Anger is a different beast. I know people say anger is masking something else, and I agree with this, but to be so in touch with anger about something like this was a true surprise for me.
I share this here because I think that others in similar situations might have a reaction like mine and wonder if anyone else has felt this way. I want even one person out there who might be reading this to know that he or she is not alone.
The anger was not at all directed at my father's wish to get help. No. Those were words I had been waiting and wanting to hear for almost 20 years. The emotion that flared up for me was instead really about pain from my childhood, from the role I played in my family during my parents' divorce. I didn’t want to think about that stuff or talk about it or spend time in it. At all. But, I knew that it was all gonna come up. For all of us. For me.
And it did.
I balance writing this with the reality that my parents are going to read "pain from my childhood" and potentially get a bit defensive. But,the pain from childhood thing, that is how it works for most of us. And, here is the thing: I know my parents did the best they could. They did better than their parents. I had a safe childhood. I was given an incredible education. I knew I was (and am) loved. There are many more positives than negatives in my past.
But, I think anyone reading this can agree that we all have our shit. This is how it works. We are born. We are loved. There is shit. Hopefully there is more love than shit. But, there is gonna be shit all the same. This is how it works.
As my dad decided to take part in a treatment program, one that was going to involve time when "loved ones" would come to "talk about stuff," my feelings of being proud of my dad for seeking support were in sharp contrast to the rage that was also brewing inside me.
I had thoughts like: Once again, my father's alcoholism was dictating my life. I moved across the country from this stuff but it was still trying to control my life. How were my mom and my brother going to react to this and how can I make sure I protect them? Who was going to protect me? Who was going to think of me and my feelings? Why do we have to talk about this stuff now?
The thought of sitting in a room with people and talking about all this, talking about it with my father, was not something I wanted to do. Not even a little bit. I was afraid of how I might react. All the while, I was only supportive of him when he called, never letting on that I was so overwhelmed by it. At first, I talked to my mother about it all because I knew if there was one person in the world who was going to understand how shocked I was, it was her. But then I realized that I was putting her in an unfair position by expecting her to support me when she would, of course, have her own feelings about this.
The thing is, my parents do not talk. At all. They live in the same town but it is as though they exist in different worlds. I won't go into more details, because really, it is not my story. It is theirs. My story is how it affects me though. And even though I am now almost 31, having parents who do not speak is…well, I think you can probably imagine without me going into it. It fractures you a bit. When your parents don't speak and seem to hate one another; it fractures you. No matter your age. And it is a fracture that never really heals.
I was not able to attend the family time due to ArtFest, but my dad asked me if I would still come in April to attend the next three-day family session. My brother and Anne had attended the first family session and encouraged me to go. Hearing my brother say, "Liz, I think you have to do it" was what prompted me to agree to it. And, even though I tried not to let on to my dad too much, I so didn't want to go. But, I also realized that this was probably going to be the only time I would be able to sit in a room with my father and a counselor and say what I wanted and needed to say to at least one of my parents.
But for weeks, I balanced the thought of flying back to the midwest and all that was coming up for me with a need to get lost in pink buttons and fabric and other stuff.
I want to share some of my experience last month when I did get to talk with my dad, but I am going to save that for another post. I think I have shared enough for now (big deep breath). Thinking about all this is exhausting. I have had insomnia for several nights now and I think that has more to do with my mind being excited about my upcoming etsy shop and all that I am creating and hope to create. But, how this all has shifted things is taking up a lot of mental space too.
Thank you for being out there and for stopping by to spend this time with me and reading my words.
this is me
Reader Comments (22)
Hi Liz,
I am glad you are finally putting some of this conflict outside of yourself. It will help defuse the power these circumstances have stolen from you over the years. I hope one day all of the time you have recently spent dealing with this subject opens you to a new place free of old pain and anger. Often, that is the real glory of hard emotional work. We reclaim ourselves and in doing so have new space and room for others.
It is hard to live our lives (especially when we are young) feeling like we must protect the adult(s) in our lives. I am the older child in my family. I, too, assumed that responsibility - protecting my mother. I am only now beginning to understand how much energy that took and how it left me powerless, in many ways, to take care of myself properly. Over the years, I let anger eat away at me, deeply affecting my joy and my inner peace. Even in its disguise, anger was lurking. I am so happy that you are working through these issues now, and I wish you a quiet mind and an open heart as you travel through.
I thought about you today. We were in Tacoma in the early evening. I thought how nice it would have been to have met you and Jon somewhere for dinner. Perhaps one day... :)
Take good care of your tender heart, Liz. My good wishes are always near. Thank you for sharing your feelings and for wanting to make our journey easier. Blessings.....Sky
Liz, I think... how brave, how very brave of her to head out there, when she didn't want to face this, and yet she did it. But I think it will have been a very good thing for you. And your anger - getting in touch with it like that - that's so good. I don't know what anger masks, but I know it can often be masked by depression, so when it comes out, when it is named, that is good. Thanks for sharing this here. From the perspective of a mother, it scares me what our children can end up carrying out of our failed relationships, and I can only hope my son would be as brave and as kind and as sensitive as you are to everyone, but especially now you are learning to be as kind to yourself, too. Blessings to you.
I think you are very brave to not only face your feelings about this, but to write about them publicly. I wish you nothing but good things to come out of it in the future.
Yes, there is shit and I have found that distance and conflict avoidance makes life a lot easier for me...whenever I have tríed to talk truth to my family it´s backfired so I admire you for opening up and talking from the heart - I hope it´s good for you and helps you move forward.
Everyone has shit (even those with the most adjusted childhoods), you've just acknowledged what most people are afraid to say.
I'm glad you're getting this out and appreciate you sharing with us here. Thinking of you friend. xo
...you are my brave, beautiful friend...
Liz- I can only echo what others have said... I am not one for confrontations at all and that is why I seem to be going through a bit of a rought patch right now and yes, it does take a lot of courage to go there... but the important thing is that you feel safe, no matter what your decision is- and that you trust yourself. Even if at the last moment you decide not to do it or to do it, then it is your decision and no one else's...
Love you, dear...
xoxo
wow, liz.
this is heavy stuff...
and you are carrying it well.
i wish you luck
and as always,
am thinking of you.
Liz,
I'm so proud of you. :) Can't wait to talk soon. Miss you!
Love,
Bridget
You are acting in a very responsible and excellent manner. Be brave and take each day at a time and slowly bloom through the cracks and take your own space and freedom and life to its intended place and flourish. Your life is there and waiting. You are very brave indeed to face this and to open your soul to your blogging friends who are here to support you. Love Barbara
Fabulous you; this is written as only you can write it; full of both raw emotion and total grace. Keeping all of this deep within you had to have been the most difficult thing. I am sure that there were times when not talking about it was probably exactly what you needed; however, there are also those times when you have to get it out, and you can't...you just can't. I can so appreciate this.
Thank you also for the declaration that everyone has shit, because, you know what...you're right. It's like Kristen said above, it does not matter how balanced your childhood was and how much you were/are loved, there is ALWAYS something there.
With that said, you are strong, brave and beautiful. Thank you for sharing this with us, and know that you are being cheered on..always.
xoxoxo
Getting things out always helps me to move on, but I usually come to it digging in my heels and screaming all the way. I'm so glad you're wading through all of it.
Keeping you close in thought.
How brave to be honest with yourself, and your dad. As women, I think it's expected, our duty is to put on our happy faces and make the best of everything. But denying our angry only causes anxiety. People will respect you when you stand up for yourself.
Thanks for sharing
steph b.
Liz, I am so happy for you that you are letting some of this seep out. This takes courage. It must be scary. I hope you can remember to be gentle and compassionate with yourself. I hope you can remember not to judge your feelings. They are your feelings...whether anger or bitterness or rage or sadness or apathy. You have a right to be where you are and react however you react to this thing your father is doing.
Hug.
You are courage, grace, strength and beauty. Keep feeling, keep writing, keep creating. It's all part of the lovely fabric that is YOU.
I'm learning so much from you Liz. From you and from all those other brave people out there who have learnt how to deal with things and then release... fully.
I hope to be able to do the same soon.
Love to you.
Vx
I admire and appreciate your bravery and honesty here. There is so much I could say to you about alcoholic fathers and recovery and rift--but, perhaps it is enough just to say "I understand"...
Love,
D.
Oh Liz. I have missed you so much. Where have I been? I read your words today and it brought a lot up for me. my parents got divorced 4 years ago. I was 28 at the time and about to get married myself. Now they barely talk. I know this feeling of "fracture" and the frustrations that go along with all of it (as though all of these issues are some sort of package-deal). Anyway, I just want to say thank you for writing these words and sharing such deep and heart felt thoughts. I don't write much about my family because it's the internet and I come from a small town. Who knows who reads what I write. But I like what you said about what is their story and what is your story. I think you've drawn a healthy distinction--one that I greatly respect.
I really have missed you. I'm sorry for my long absence.
lots of love,
j.
"We are born. We are loved. There is shit. Hopefully there is more love than shit. But, there is gonna be shit all the same. This is how it works."--
Yes.
I understand so much. I wrote a post a couple back about my missing father. I didn't even get into his addiction with drink being the main reason he has failed me so deeply. There is so much feeling in this post that I also feel. You are brave to let it out, and you do it such an honest and kind way. It is inspiring to me, as you often are.
:)
Liz... I Love YOU... dear Friend... for EVERYTHING you are... were... and will be...!!!
Despite this pain and the past you have not let ANY of this stop you from being the INCREDIBLE.... YES... THAT IS RIGHT... I-N-C-R-E-D-I-B-L-E person you are!!!!
I am thinking of you and sending warm thoughts of comfort and peace....
yep, another oldest child of divorced parents, here. mine divorced, oh gosh, 20 years ago (i was 10) and they're just beginning to be civil around eachother. there's a lot of crappy stuff that goes on when you're stuck in the middle of two adults that are also your parents. it's not fun. but you'll end up stronger for it.
as for the anger. oh gosh, i went through a lot of that. for me it was absolutely necessary. i needed to experience it and voice it (that took a long time) and now my relationship with my parents is very good, even if they still don't really get along.
i wish you loads of courage and strength on your path!
I can appreciate how hard this must have been to put out there, in a public sphere, outside the safe spot you have guarded this story for much time.
My parents are also divorced. My father was pretty absent the entire time I was growing up, until one day when I was 16 and, for some reason, let down my guard and let him in on what was happening in my life at the time - bulimia, stress and all sorts of other stuff.
Thank you for sharing your story. I can relate to so much of it, and am happy that you are doing something about the man who takes up so much space in the room.