emotions...

Not fun, is it? I can most certainly relate. Now, take good care of yourself, do what is nurturing for yourself, and in a few days, the emotional reverberations will die down again, and things will be back to normal, so to speak. But you do have my empathy with this. (*hug*)

 

Tom,

Sounds like your day just emulated my day to the T! I need to see a doctor now about all the cuts on my tongue from biting so hard. But all is said and done, managed through it as well.

 

my sister and I found some healing in sharing our unpleasant memories of our mother. you never want to dwell there too long, but hearing from each other was important to validate what we experienced, so that we don't think it's all in our heads. my brother just wouldn't go there, though recently some things he said made it obvious that there was some level of acknowledgement. I don't think that it as much "misery loves company" as it is validation to know that those memories that seem so improbably are actually in the memory banks of someone else as well. and so, it's not me, it was her. just sharing my experience, which may be very different than yours.

 

We used to say that my dad was like a tape recorder without a stop button. If you accidentally stuck a tape in, it automatically started to play, and you had to let the tape play through till the end because it couldn't be turned off. If you interrupted him, he'd pick up where he left off as soon as you took a breath. It was infuriating, because his stories were all designed to show someone or other in a bad light, particularly my dead mother and grandparents. I became quite adept at steering conversation away from subjects that woukd start a "tape" playing.

I was basically on call for him for 25 years as his health slowly deteriorated and he became disabled and eventually lost his legs. It was a blessing in a strange way because I had so much exposure to the same venomous stories and comments that I developed a sort of mental and emotional immunity to them. It let me see some of the better parts of his personality that permanently eluded my siblings who avoided him, because I learned to completely turn off the standard and unchanging litany of meanness and misinformation.

It's not an easy thing to do, and if there's enough hurt in your relationships with your parents it might not even be worth it. But I have to say that I managed to get some insight into his character as a result of turning off my stock reactions, an insight that actually helped me heal from some of the wounds of the past. We can't change our parents, but by changing how we react to them and being more of an adult than they are, we can grow into better people, stronger people, and more mature and healthy people. It's worth considering, at least.

 

the tape recorder is such a great metaphor! though for me, the struggle has been the tape recorder inside my own head. it got better, but it used to be that people didn't need to keep telling me that same story, I just kept replaying it on my own.

 

Ooooh, yeah, I know that one too. Although in my case I think the song it played had more to do with my wife and my marriage than my parents. I see the look of shock on her face quite regularly now when she starts in on me, and my gut launches into the standard tape, but my brain consciously pulls the power cord. She sees the change and keeps trying to initiate the same old games, but now it just doesn't work.

It took me years to figure that out with Dad. My brother and sisters had to do it basically by severing ties with him almost completely, but proximity and my own sense of responsibility forced me into a different mode of survival. Towards the end I because quite adept at mentally turning off my hearing aid and reminding myself that he wouldn't, couldn't change. I'll also admit that I regarded dealing with him as a sort of karma insurance. I figured, if my daughters see me dealing with him in a loving, patient, non-judgemental way, they'll be much more likely to show me the same courtesy when I'm old and have my own challenges.

I'm not entirely sure how he would have reacted to finding out I was gay. He was a remarkably gay-friendly person--very pro-gay marriage, and nonchalantly related several stories of being hit on by guys in the army--so it's anybody's guess whether having a gay son would have called his bluff. In a way I wish he was still around because I truly suspect he might have been deeply closeted himself, but will never know. Regardless, he had other very effective hot buttons. Learning to deactivate them in my brain was the only thing that led to a remotely positive relationship between the two of us. Not an equitable relationship--not even slightly. But positive in its own unique way.

 

something I learned years ago that has helped me with this is, "when somebody pushes your buttons, change the buttons." It was so appropriate because my wife was VERY intentional about pushing those button (such a loving thing to do, NOT!). So I would just imagine the buttons on an elevator panel, and changing around what they were connected to. the buttons that she was pushing were either dead, or connected to a moment of meditation. though I did it for my own sanity, it also had the unintended side effect of driving her nuts. the loss of power was something that she didn't know how to deal with.