Reality is a Bitter Pill

My heart has been breaking quietly for the past few days.

What's worse is that I feel like a sap.  I feel like someone pulled something over on me.  My Achilles heel (one of them, at least) has been expecting heroic things of the ones I love.  Everyone, including myself, is constrained by their own world views, their own insecurities, and their own pathology.

I think I've written in here about the fact that my father and I have had some major ups and downs in the twenty-plus years since my mom died.  The way I was finally able to come to terms with things (after quite a long time in therapy) was to realize that whenever I had any expectations of him whatsoever--whether it was to pay a bill, speak to someone, or have my back--I would more often than not be let down.  I could continue to feel angry and betrayed about his behavior, or I could accept the unpleasant fact that, although he is my father and I love him, he is essentially a weak man who chooses to avoid personal conflict at the cost of his interpersonal relationships.  I chose the latter, forfeiting my trust and faith in my father.  If he said he was going to do something, I would murmer something appreciative and non-commital, and when he failed to follow through, I was neither surprised or upset. 

Prior to my son's service, I spoke to him about not including his wife.  His words to me?  "I've been trying to get this through her head for years--that's she's not the grandmother."  Obviously, this didn't work too well, since she included herself in my older son's bar mitzvah without being called to the bimah or invited to participate in any other way.  Therefore, I thought that my saying something to her would have more impact than if he told her what I wanted.  Also, part of me didn't trust him to raise the subject at all. 

And look what happened.

After I posted on Sunday morning, I collapsed.  Once I had everything done for the thirty-plus guests we were expecting, I sat down and realized that I wouldn't be able to attend my own party.  I was shaking and wound up climbing into bed for about a hour before going down to meet the guests.  And just as expected, no one said a word about things, except for my sister in law.  My dad's wife was there, and I'm sorry to say that I couldn't look at her, let alone talk to her.  I love the idea of taking the high road, of not holding a grudge, but that didn't happen.  My dad did come over to talk to me, but about something that was completely irrelevant to anything that had happened the day before.  I think it was his way of reaching out and trying to connect with me in the only way he could, which is by talking AT me rather than talking TO me.

I'm sorry to say the collapse was accompanied by a binge/purge session that lasted for hours.  I couldn't stop myself, and it just contributed to my misery.

Why was I so upset?  Not so much of because of what she did--that was completely classless and stupid and selfish.  She didn't ruin anything and only  made herself look bad.  No, I'm upset because of the ramifications on my relationship with my father.  She lives with him and I don't know what she is planning on saying and doing.  I know that if I want to preserve any relaltionship at all, I will have to call them and deal with her in the future, which I suppose I can do.  It will be unpleasant, although continuing to insert myself in their life will stick in her craw like no one's business.  The closer I am to my dad, the crazier she will get.  But in order to do this, I need to come back to the terms I came to years ago--that my dad would rather have a life without conflict than get involved in messy emotional situations. 

I wasn't looking for him to choose sides.  I know he's caught in the middle of something and just wants it to go away.  And one day, this won't seem like a big deal at all.  But for me, the easiest way to get things to go away is to talk about them, sometimes more than once.  I can't have a conversation with him about this, because all that would happen is he would get angry and defensive and wind up blaming everything on me.  I need to let go and move forward.  But it's hard.

I called my dad's cell phone on Monday and left him a message about the weekend, just apologizing for not being the best hostess and letting him know that no matter what, I loved him.  I told him I wanted to talk to him (he had told me that there were a lot of things about him that I didn't know that he would share with me) since I only know what he chooses to tell me, and I would love to know him better).  And then I sent him an email telling him I had left him a cell phone message (he's not the best about checking his cell phone). 

I still haven't heard back from him.  Yesterday was my son's thirteenth birthday, and he didnt call.  I am probably reading too much into this.  I am guessing he is busy doing  his own thing and, in spite of every sign to the contrary, thinks that things are just hunky-dory with me.

During this whole escapade, my husband kept saying to me, "But would you really expect your dad to do something?"  And I had to answer no, I wouldn't EXPECT him to do anything.  But that didn't mean that I didn't WANT him to do something.  My dad was supposed to be my hero, my white knight. 

My forgetting that he is otherwise makes me feel stupid and like someone pulled something over on me.  I had forgotten what things are really like.  And relearning it this way sucks.