I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings...
I'm sitting here in the quiet of the living room, listening to the sound of the rain lap at the roof. It's kind of cathartic. The rain outside is saving me from flooding my self some tonight. Things with my dad and stepmother have taken a turn toward the ridiculous and I am honestly feeling the need for some self-pity right now.
A few weeks ago, I spoke to my father and stepmother over the phone. Now the pretext to this is that a few weeks before that, my father was in the hospital with some breathing problems. I rushed to Overlake (a 1 hour drive) to be with him and found my trip to be mostly a waste. He had plenty of people around him and really did not need me there. Well, a couple of weeks after that, Toby and I visited him at home to check in on him. He was still weak, but doing mildly better. Of course, if you ask my stepmother, he was still at death's door. Still a couple of weeks later was the fateful phone call that (sort of) began the whole mess of which we're now in the midst.
I called my dad, partially to tell him that I was holding a 3.9 GPA in grad school, which I thought was fairly exciting, but mostly to check in and see how he was feeling. But before I could get to asking how he was, my phone cut us off. I was going through a particularly troublesome spot in Orting, which is notorious for dropping mobile calls. When I was able to call them back, approximately 5-10 minutes later, my stepmother answered and she had left my father in the car to go into the grocery store. A flurry of guilt trips about how dire dad's condition was and how little he hears from me and how I need to make more of an effort to be a better daughter ensued. I told her that I didn't feel I needed to be guilted about my (seeming) lack of loyalty and homage-paying. She told me that I had my head up my ass and that I needed to quit being so selfish. This was the point at which I willingly ended the call.
I got home shortly thereafter, relayed the call to my loving husband, who, in a fit of anger, called her back and left a rather lengthy message on her voicemail. This prompted a retaliatory phone call from my father, in which he proclaimed that had I grown up with my own mother, I would have been a whore. Choice words coming from a man who supposedly cares about me, eh? That comment stung then and has stuck with me since. I will not forget it.
I decided that a self-imposed break was necessary from both of them. While this call is not an example of the everyday norm with them, it is certainly indicative of regularity, and I had had enough. So, I chose to put some distance between us. I didn't call, didn't invite them over for Easter dinner, and have not had contact with them since.
But then came the fateful Facebook incident. This will teach me to befriend my family members on a social networking site. I mentioned that I was making pot roast, a dish that, up until recently, I have outwardly loathed. Well, the mention of it prompted a query of "why?" from a couple of people, and Toby proceeded to tell them that it was because my "stepmother traumatized me with her mediocre pot roast whilst I was growing up." While this comment does have a ring of truth to it, it was probably not a good plan to air it on Facebook. My grandmother (stepmother's mother) saw the comment, proceeded to tell her entire side of the family, and all of them have unceremoniously unfriended me. And then, she called to tell me that I was no longer her favorite grandchild and that I should be ashamed of myself. For the record, I'm not. If she feels even an inkling of how she has made me feel throughout my life, I say it was well-earned.
So, today, my father called Toby. He bawled him out for the Facebook comment, proceeded to tell him that the uninvite to Easter was a slap in the face, and demanded that I call him back immediately. I have yet to return the phone call, but I'm steeling myself for the battle that will occur when I finally do.
The gist of it is that I feel I need to put my father and stepmother in a far less central position in my life. They demand many things from me that I am either incapable or unwilling to give any longer, and I need them to not be so integral in my life. I'm unhappy when I'm near them, I constantly feel inadequate and guilty for every action I take, and I am not willing to compromise myself or my family this way any longer. I've historically been extremely non-confrontational, to the point of fault, with them. But that has to change. Both for my own self-preservation and for that of my children and my marriage. They deserve for me to be a strong, caring woman who is focused on their needs more than the ones of my petulant father and his wife. And I deserve more, too. I am not the selfish person they make me out to be, and I am tired of being accused of just that.
So, this may sting a bit, but in the long run, I think I will be happier for having cut the gangrenous portion of my family out of my life. This isn't a decision I've made lightly, but one I've agonized over and have worked years to come to. I can't compromise myself for them any longer. I need to set myself free from the cage I've allowed myself to be locked in for so long.
A few weeks ago, I spoke to my father and stepmother over the phone. Now the pretext to this is that a few weeks before that, my father was in the hospital with some breathing problems. I rushed to Overlake (a 1 hour drive) to be with him and found my trip to be mostly a waste. He had plenty of people around him and really did not need me there. Well, a couple of weeks after that, Toby and I visited him at home to check in on him. He was still weak, but doing mildly better. Of course, if you ask my stepmother, he was still at death's door. Still a couple of weeks later was the fateful phone call that (sort of) began the whole mess of which we're now in the midst.
I called my dad, partially to tell him that I was holding a 3.9 GPA in grad school, which I thought was fairly exciting, but mostly to check in and see how he was feeling. But before I could get to asking how he was, my phone cut us off. I was going through a particularly troublesome spot in Orting, which is notorious for dropping mobile calls. When I was able to call them back, approximately 5-10 minutes later, my stepmother answered and she had left my father in the car to go into the grocery store. A flurry of guilt trips about how dire dad's condition was and how little he hears from me and how I need to make more of an effort to be a better daughter ensued. I told her that I didn't feel I needed to be guilted about my (seeming) lack of loyalty and homage-paying. She told me that I had my head up my ass and that I needed to quit being so selfish. This was the point at which I willingly ended the call.
I got home shortly thereafter, relayed the call to my loving husband, who, in a fit of anger, called her back and left a rather lengthy message on her voicemail. This prompted a retaliatory phone call from my father, in which he proclaimed that had I grown up with my own mother, I would have been a whore. Choice words coming from a man who supposedly cares about me, eh? That comment stung then and has stuck with me since. I will not forget it.
I decided that a self-imposed break was necessary from both of them. While this call is not an example of the everyday norm with them, it is certainly indicative of regularity, and I had had enough. So, I chose to put some distance between us. I didn't call, didn't invite them over for Easter dinner, and have not had contact with them since.
But then came the fateful Facebook incident. This will teach me to befriend my family members on a social networking site. I mentioned that I was making pot roast, a dish that, up until recently, I have outwardly loathed. Well, the mention of it prompted a query of "why?" from a couple of people, and Toby proceeded to tell them that it was because my "stepmother traumatized me with her mediocre pot roast whilst I was growing up." While this comment does have a ring of truth to it, it was probably not a good plan to air it on Facebook. My grandmother (stepmother's mother) saw the comment, proceeded to tell her entire side of the family, and all of them have unceremoniously unfriended me. And then, she called to tell me that I was no longer her favorite grandchild and that I should be ashamed of myself. For the record, I'm not. If she feels even an inkling of how she has made me feel throughout my life, I say it was well-earned.
So, today, my father called Toby. He bawled him out for the Facebook comment, proceeded to tell him that the uninvite to Easter was a slap in the face, and demanded that I call him back immediately. I have yet to return the phone call, but I'm steeling myself for the battle that will occur when I finally do.
The gist of it is that I feel I need to put my father and stepmother in a far less central position in my life. They demand many things from me that I am either incapable or unwilling to give any longer, and I need them to not be so integral in my life. I'm unhappy when I'm near them, I constantly feel inadequate and guilty for every action I take, and I am not willing to compromise myself or my family this way any longer. I've historically been extremely non-confrontational, to the point of fault, with them. But that has to change. Both for my own self-preservation and for that of my children and my marriage. They deserve for me to be a strong, caring woman who is focused on their needs more than the ones of my petulant father and his wife. And I deserve more, too. I am not the selfish person they make me out to be, and I am tired of being accused of just that.
So, this may sting a bit, but in the long run, I think I will be happier for having cut the gangrenous portion of my family out of my life. This isn't a decision I've made lightly, but one I've agonized over and have worked years to come to. I can't compromise myself for them any longer. I need to set myself free from the cage I've allowed myself to be locked in for so long.
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