Writing has been hard the past few days. I did have the conversation with my parents that I had been dreading. I had earmarked an hour for the conversation, but it took four. I went in knowing what I wanted to say and how.
It came to me as no surprise that my parents thought that I was trying to distance myself. I have to remind myself that when someone has unfettered access to your life, any boundary signifies a departure. The dynamic that we had previously was not healthy (and definitely not sustainable).
I thought I would have this conversation from a place of power. But instead I remember talking from a place of hurt. 2022 was an archaeology dig that uncovered childhood artifacts after another. Each more damning and neglectful as the one that preceded it. There were more than a dozen times in the year that I felt justified in going radio-silent. That would have been it.
That thought pops up now and then.
But that was not in the agenda for Saturday, no. Perhaps it was my final olive branch. You see, I relish the idea of a healthy relationship with my parents. One that is not marred by neglect nor enmeshment. Maybe even friendly with my father in which we can share hobbies and conversation. I started by reaffirming that this was not to an assault on their character. It was just my realizations from the year and what I needed to let go and move on. And, more importantly, that I was doing this to have a better relationship with them and that I was only doing it because of that. This disclaimer, of course, did nothing.
I told them how I felt living with them as a child. How unsafe it felt. They were alcoholics by any measure, but in this conversation it seemed as if they had rewritten history. They only had " a few drinks" occasionally. But I was not engaging, it was about how I felt - I reemphasized. I recounted the many beatings I had received at their hands and threats of abandonment. They, of course, remembered different. I was missing the context, you see. As if any context would explain why it was ok to repeatedly hit your kid (in the head). But the -context-. I see now that this "contextualizing" is a sort of power play. It tries to invalidate my experience, because only they have the full knowledge. And by having "the full knowledge" they somehow hold a key to understanding this that I do not. In any case, I continued. My mom kept saying that if she could do it different, she would. But then immediately launched into justifications. I had to hold my laughter when "Mistakes were made!" was actually said. That book gave me a lot of insight and I knew what to expect. My dad also flew into a tirade of how he is a good person and what exactly was I trying to accomplish by making him feel bad. He kept repeating that. I guess we need to recall our stories when we feel attacked. Despite me saying that this was not discounting the good things he's done (there are many), this is just me talking about the incredibly wrong and harmful ones he has done. One does not invalidate the other. I was not expecting this point to be taken.
But it may have? There was little yelling and screaming. I did not think I needed to explicitly state that I needed an apology and for them to actually make good on their promises to go see a therapist (form 3 years ago). But I did. They apologized, but it felt cheap. I was not expecting a sense of satisfaction or smugness from this, but I thought at least I'd feel a little good. It has been the opposite. I know it is only a few days since, but I expected some effort. But it looks poor and I would be a fool to hold my breath.
I knew going in that I could only control the input. Telling them what I needed for our relationships to continue. I cannot control the output, whether they act on this. It hurts a bit, because now when I see them be neglectful- there is no benefit of the doubt. They no longer have plausible deniability. They know the issues. They know what is at stake (relationship with me, my wife, and future kids).
Re: 3 years ago. Absurd as it is. My brother once confronted them about this too. And when he did so, they had a meltdown. My dad, out of his emotional range, calls me at midnight and asks me to drive back home to talk with them. I do so, and it is clear that they've all been crying and screaming at each other. We end the night acknowledging that everyone in the room needs to see a therapist and work through our own issues. My brother and I did so, but...
There was a lot of "I can't believe we need to be professional around our kids, doesn't being your <parent> mean ANYTHING" and "We don't need ANYTHING from you, we just want you to be happy!" going on. But I think using many "I " statements nullified that. I do not usually call up meetings with my parents and have them sit down for this kind of talks. I would like it if I did not have to spell things out to them.