But my dad is the focus of this post. I was born into a family where '50s values were...well, valued. The husband brought in the money, the wife was a "help meet". This existed despite the fact that my mom and dad are old hippies. My mom was the person who took care of the kids, my dad took care of the paycheck. I'm glossing over the situation here. My parents owned their own business. My mom's paycheck was significantly larger than my dad's because taxes.
Growing up I said "hi" and "bye" to my dad, and that was it. I take after my father in that I never really talk a lot (among many, many other characteristics that can frustrate people). In any case, as I reached my teenage years, I became a monster. My mother literally thought I hated her (lord knows I didn't). My father and I had such voluminous arguments that I'll bet neighbors heard us yell. Once, one got out of hand and physical abuse came into the equation, but with intervention, it ended quickly and the arguments toned down pretty much for good. Nevertheless, my father has - since I was about 15 - been just salivating for a similar argument to occur. He's on the defensive, all the time. I was too; until my early 20's he and I would fight until one of us had the last word.
Then I met my ex-fiance. We loved each other so very much but we were mismatched. I'll write more about that later. But he saw the vitriol and control-freak tendencies I was capable of one day and he just lost it. I remember coming home from work and facing him out on our patio. He said in no uncertain terms he couldn't be with me if I continued my journey to make him what I wanted him to be. I had a tear-filled argument with him. I was lucky to not lose him: after some time saturated with reflection he realized that if he left me he would miss me too much. I would have missed him too. That was a critical turning point in my life. I no longer took control of the relationship unless it was invited and appropriate.
Alas, my ex-fiance and I split up, but we did so because we were going in different directions than what we anticipated. But I lived with my parents for awhile. My tolerance for my father's natural behavior had increased. However, I was also wading through cheap white wine when we were together. We did have one argument - while I was drunk - that changed the dynamics of the whole family. After that argument my mother and father became roommates, as it were. And I initiated this because I was inebriated and was spoiling for sparring. I suppose I sound naive for saying this, but I feel like my addiction to alcohol severed the bond between my parents in a way I severely regret now.
This has been painful to write. The story will likely continue in my next post.
