Dinner with the folks

[Guest guest]

This past weekend I went to dinner with my parents, who are temporarily

living near me. It was kind of a Mother's Day, Father's Day thing. It was

rather pleasant, actually.

I haven't been around my parents much since I left home 20 years ago. We

went for quite a stretch when I wasn't really talking to them at all and

they weren't talking to me (This was prior to and during my marriage to an

abusive BP). I've seen them more often recently, and I'm even starting to

muster some tenderness for my mother. It feel that the more time goes by and

the more that I heal from my childhood wounds, the harder time I have

holding onto the pain. I find myself forgiving my mother. I must note that

she fits the profile of the hermit, so she has not been as intrusive as

other nadas described here on the list. Because of that period of not

talking, our relationship is more clearly defined with boundaries and my

mother seems to respect them. The few times that I've seen her, she does not

rage at me, She is not particularly mothering, but I've taken over that job

myself.

Some background: I took a trip home for Christmas years ago when I was in

grad school which actually resulted in my severing ties with my mother for a

good long while. My mother became upset because I was vegetarian. She kept

trying to force me to eat meat. One night at dinner, when I politely asked

for salad instead of the steak that she had made " just for you " , she went

into a dervish frenzy, shoving the steak down the sink. At the time I was

going through a rough time at school and had gone home believing in the myth

of our family (that we were special, a safe harbor from the rest of the

corrupt world). On that trip I realized that I was going to have to stand on

my own--that I would not have the support of my family (mother) unless I did

things her way. Of course, shortly afterward, I got involved with my bp

ex-wife which lead to a decade of horrific abuse.

Anyway, at the dinner, I started telling my folks a little bit about the

marriage--the abuse that I had endured. I had talked to my father about this

when I was married, and his response was that he would not meddle in my

marriage by giving advice. Basically, I think that it struck too close to

home for him. I have been through various stages with my father. At one

point I thought that he was the greatest. Then, I feared his disapproval

(he's a clergyman). Then, I was angry that he did not do more to protect us

from our bp mother. These days, I'm letting a lot slide and I mostly

appreciate him. But I think that his reaction to my problem is typical of

his approach as a co-dependent non. He never wanted to rock the boat with my

mother. And he didn't want to rock the boat with my angry wife by giving me

advice. At the dinner he admitted that would have told me to divorce her if

he didn't have a policy against meddling.

Two observations:

Number one: My mother's response was that she wished that she had MADE me

stay home when I came home that Christmas. She knew something was wrong.

Everything would have been ok if I had stayed safe at home. Forget that I

had ambitions. Forget that I was 26 years old. Forget that she had made my

childhood unbearably painful. Forget that I felt driven away by that trip

home. I mean, I find that response so incredible. Like she could MAKE me be

her puppet child again and my life would be better. They were living in some

little suburban town that I didn't know. I was working on my master's

degree, trying to do something with my life, and her response--as

always--was that it's better to stay home and stagnate than grow. This gets

to a big gripe that I have about not being nurtured. As an adult, I came

across some papers from growing up that showed that I had scored 135 on an

IQ test. On the IOWA tests I had scored in the 98th percentile. Yet my

mother never took an interest in my schoolwork or anything outside of the

family. I had mediocre or poor grades in high school. In college, outside of

the family realm, I earned a cumulative 4.0 and graduated summa cum laude

(I've just got to get that in because I am trying to verify what my mother

never did). Even though I did well in college, only now do I really feel

like I'm getting to the point where I don't have to prove to myself or

others that I'm not a moron (my ex-wife's favorite description of me). I'm

not quite there yet, but moving toward totally unabashed acceptance of my

genius.

Number two: When I was describing that abusive things that my bp ex-wife had

done (name-calling, breaking things, violence), my mother's hand began

noticeably shaking. I don't know if it was out of self recognition or just

verification in her mind of the evil of people outside the family. I guess

that I like to think that the scenarios I described sounded so familiar to

her that she was facing cognitive dissonance. I know that BPs are supposed

to have a hard time seeing the pain that they inflict upon other, so I don't

know whether or not my mother has any guilt for her behavior. She's never

mentioned it.

Obviously, writing here has brought emotions to the surface that I didn't

really feel during our dinner together. I do feel that I am willing and able

to cut both of my parents a lot of slack for doing the best they

could--being who they are. And I guess that I am recognizing that I do love

them both and generally feel that our relationship is functioning pretty

well these days. My mother does seem to have mellowed out a lot from when we

were kids.

So, those are my thoughts this morning.

giacomo