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lliiraIn The Blue Castle, Valancy says her happiness bled backwards and she stopped remembering all the bad times with her family. I think that happened to me. I had literally forgotten what it was like to live with my father. He’s also way worse off mentally and physically than he used to be, but there are plenty of things that are all too familiar that I had literally forgotten.
Like the constant pinpricks. Over many years, I’d gotten used to not being insulted every day of my life in a “teasing” or backhanded fashion. And I’d forgotten that’s what life used to be! I remember a conversation with one of my friends in high school, who said at first she didn’t understand why my father drove me crazy, but after she spent enough time around both of us, she got it. Because in isolation, as something someone says maybe a couple times a month, it doesn’t sound bad. But every. Single. Conversation. Yeah.
I’d forgotten that completely adopting his tastes while not expecting him to even listen to anything I cared about was the only acceptable path. I’d forgotten his tendency to try to get other people on his side against me as if we were in constant competition. (It’s not going to work on my husband, but it’s still painful to hear the attempts.) I’d forgotten his tendency to claim anything vaguely positive I did as his own accomplishment, from my writing ability to when I figured out how to program the VCR at age 11 to the fact that I introduced him to The Cranberries, not the other way around.
I think maybe I got so used to it that I didn’t notice. And then I had my own life to live, and it slowly... went away. Also, my father used to have massive charm. When he realized he’d gone a bit too far (which happened a lot), he’d amp it up to 11. If it was bad enough, which was a couple times a month, he’d buy me something. He’s not capable of a charm offensive any longer, and I started to see through the gift offensive when I was about 12. Which means that my overwhelming feeling toward him now is pity. That’s not fun. Especially since he’s still capable of devouring my mental space like some kind of Cthulhic parasite.
It can’t last. Either he gets at least somewhat better and therefore less emotionally dependent (massive longshot), we get him into a nursing home (also a huge longshot when he won’t admit how sick he is or even that he needs prescription glasses), or he dies. Pretty soon.
I’ve got my husband, who’s been amazing through this and is the only person I’ve ever known who can get my father to do things he has to do but doesn’t want to without giving up any of his own integrity. So I'm a lot better off than when I was a teenager. Still, ugh.
I’d forgotten that completely adopting his tastes while not expecting him to even listen to anything I cared about was the only acceptable path. I’d forgotten his tendency to try to get other people on his side against me as if we were in constant competition. (It’s not going to work on my husband, but it’s still painful to hear the attempts.) I’d forgotten his tendency to claim anything vaguely positive I did as his own accomplishment, from my writing ability to when I figured out how to program the VCR at age 11 to the fact that I introduced him to The Cranberries, not the other way around.
I think maybe I got so used to it that I didn’t notice. And then I had my own life to live, and it slowly... went away. Also, my father used to have massive charm. When he realized he’d gone a bit too far (which happened a lot), he’d amp it up to 11. If it was bad enough, which was a couple times a month, he’d buy me something. He’s not capable of a charm offensive any longer, and I started to see through the gift offensive when I was about 12. Which means that my overwhelming feeling toward him now is pity. That’s not fun. Especially since he’s still capable of devouring my mental space like some kind of Cthulhic parasite.
It can’t last. Either he gets at least somewhat better and therefore less emotionally dependent (massive longshot), we get him into a nursing home (also a huge longshot when he won’t admit how sick he is or even that he needs prescription glasses), or he dies. Pretty soon.
I’ve got my husband, who’s been amazing through this and is the only person I’ve ever known who can get my father to do things he has to do but doesn’t want to without giving up any of his own integrity. So I'm a lot better off than when I was a teenager. Still, ugh.
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Date: 2018-03-16 05:13 pm (UTC)