[My wife made a good point about my previous post, so I modified paragraphs 3 and 4 under Point 1 for clarity.]
Point 2: In the escalation that followed my decision to finally respond to his accusations about presents, all the favors I did for my father were dismissed.
Favors carry weight. Over the years, I have tried to make a conscious effort to do many favors for my father, including helping him move stuff, clearing brush and branches from their back yard, shoveling stones, even inviting him out disc golfing and playing Halo—doing my best to always be available. After the worst day of my life in August of 2000 (caused by both my mother and my father), I considered my actions between then and now to be favors. These were all attempts at quality time and to be part of the family—to try to establish a better relationship than the shaky one we had. In his Christmas letter to me, my father said, “You get out of family what you put into it. Honestly, it has not felt like you have invested much of anything in [our relationship] for a long time.” In one simple statement, he nullified what I had attempted to build with him for years.
Since my actions meant little, I determined that my efforts were a waste of my time. If my efforts were meaningless, then the rest of the "hanging out with them" motive was gone. My father had already destroyed gift giving and receiving for me. In a final attempt to disengage from a point of contention that had existed for years, I returned some birthday gifts with the statement that I still wanted to keep trying to have a relationship. My mother then disinvited us from her 50th birthday celebration.
Our relationship had unraveled. The ties that bind were severed, and the rest of the rigging fell down as a result. The relationship was gone. I'm not a glutton for awkward moments, meaningless actions, or emotional lashings meant to set me straight. If actions mean nothing, then words mean less.
So I ended up stuck with the question, Why talk to him? Not talking to him is not meant to be a punishment of him; I consider not talking to him to be the realistic reaction to the liberties he took in our relationship. I wouldn’t talk to anyone else in this circumstance, either.
My dad turned our disagreement into a crusade against a litany of choices in my life that he disliked or disagreed with. Many of his accusations were weakly supported by hearsay or incorrect conjecture or just bad facts; many others were simply his opinion against mine. When confronted with proper evidence or my actual reasoning, my father refused to back down.
The relationship felt destructive. I had to make a call. How many more beatings was I willing to take for the sake of building a relationship where the efforts on my part were counted worthless? I took a hard look at my poker hand and decided to fold. Better to lose some, than to continue with a losing hand and lose more.
I refuse to suffer the slavish chains of my family’s enmeshment. If my options are enmeshment or no contact, then my choice is no contact. My father did not allow me a third option.
(Part 3 will come soon.)
Friday, January 23, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
About the situation with my parents (part 1 of 3)
Hopefully this will be the last series of blogs about my recent history with my parents. In the last year and a half I have been attempting to focus down to identify the major problem(s) with the words my father spoke and wrote to me. I had a feeling that I would never be able to define it on my own. As is usual in this kind of circumstance, I kept my eyes open, and the answer revealed itself in the unlikeliest of places.
The blog I quoted in full in my last post gave me the framework on which to hang my conclusions about my parents and sister (read that before this). In this post, when I speak about my family, I’m only referring to my parents, my sister, and me.
Point 1: My secrets which could have brought us closer were used against me.
My family has many secrets. The fact that secrets lay hidden under the floorboards of my parents’ house is ironic because of all my father’s talk for years about “being open” and “laying all [his] cards on the table.” When you know things about someone - their weaknesses, their struggles - this knowledge, when used correctly, is the tie that binds. Friends can become closer that brothers or sisters because of big secrets. Of course, the situation changes entirely when they are used against you.
Though given in a spirit of sharing, what I thought were family bonding "secrets" became weapons in the hands of my father, the classic manipulator. I’m not talking “secrets” in the “hide these things from all other people” category, but more along the lines of telling him things no one else knows and the reasons behind choices - stuff like that.
I have often felt that in the eyes of my father, I was never good enough - namely because of his regular habit of criticizing me on both large and small topics. So when my father started to criticize me on my sister’s behalf about presents she received from me, a terribly destructive habit he repeated over the years, and when I decided to directly respond to his accusations for the first time, he didn't like me defending myself, and suddenly my secrets were fair game. Secrets I told him over the last few years were drudged up and used against me like a battering ram.
I’m still not sure what my father hoped to gain. It would be like if I came over to your house and complained about your life choices in relation to how you could give me or my wife what we think we deserve from you if only you had made (what we consider to be) better decisions. I may never know what he hoped to gain; however, I know what he lost. He began the journey of diluting his own influence.
People tell each other secrets small and large. At times these secrets are compromised - that's life. But whose interest is being guarded? After many years of witnessing his behavior, I came to the conclusion that my father never really had my best interests at heart. Thus, every secret entrusted to him was prey to his machinations (dictionary definition: "a scheming or crafty action, subtle maneuver, or artful design intended to accomplish some end; especially : one regarded as evil or reprehensible").
When it comes to trust, I always face a simple choice: I am either open to you or closed to you. There is no middle ground for me.
...to be continued...
(Parts 2 and 3 will come in the next few days.)
The blog I quoted in full in my last post gave me the framework on which to hang my conclusions about my parents and sister (read that before this). In this post, when I speak about my family, I’m only referring to my parents, my sister, and me.
Point 1: My secrets which could have brought us closer were used against me.
My family has many secrets. The fact that secrets lay hidden under the floorboards of my parents’ house is ironic because of all my father’s talk for years about “being open” and “laying all [his] cards on the table.” When you know things about someone - their weaknesses, their struggles - this knowledge, when used correctly, is the tie that binds. Friends can become closer that brothers or sisters because of big secrets. Of course, the situation changes entirely when they are used against you.
Though given in a spirit of sharing, what I thought were family bonding "secrets" became weapons in the hands of my father, the classic manipulator. I’m not talking “secrets” in the “hide these things from all other people” category, but more along the lines of telling him things no one else knows and the reasons behind choices - stuff like that.
I have often felt that in the eyes of my father, I was never good enough - namely because of his regular habit of criticizing me on both large and small topics. So when my father started to criticize me on my sister’s behalf about presents she received from me, a terribly destructive habit he repeated over the years, and when I decided to directly respond to his accusations for the first time, he didn't like me defending myself, and suddenly my secrets were fair game. Secrets I told him over the last few years were drudged up and used against me like a battering ram.
I’m still not sure what my father hoped to gain. It would be like if I came over to your house and complained about your life choices in relation to how you could give me or my wife what we think we deserve from you if only you had made (what we consider to be) better decisions. I may never know what he hoped to gain; however, I know what he lost. He began the journey of diluting his own influence.
People tell each other secrets small and large. At times these secrets are compromised - that's life. But whose interest is being guarded? After many years of witnessing his behavior, I came to the conclusion that my father never really had my best interests at heart. Thus, every secret entrusted to him was prey to his machinations (dictionary definition: "a scheming or crafty action, subtle maneuver, or artful design intended to accomplish some end; especially : one regarded as evil or reprehensible").
When it comes to trust, I always face a simple choice: I am either open to you or closed to you. There is no middle ground for me.
...to be continued...
(Parts 2 and 3 will come in the next few days.)
Monday, January 12, 2009
Scott Adams on Friendship
Dilbert creator Scott Adams has a blog that I find fascinating and sometimes hilarious. Here is a non-hilarity one about friendship. Very soon, and based on this blog, I will outline why my father and I are not speaking.
Define Friend
Jan 9, 2009
Have you ever wondered how someone crosses the line from being an acquaintance to a friend? Or more importantly, if you want to convert an acquaintance into a friend, what could you do that wouldn't come off as stalking?
I think you can define a friend with two criteria, both of which must be met. A friend is. . .
1. Someone you have told a secret.
2. Someone who has accepted a favor from you.
Notice that I have cleverly defined a friend in terms of things you give and not things you receive. If you are evaluating your potential friends in terms of what they can give you, or how they can entertain you, you probably don't have many friends.
I read somewhere that telling a secret makes the recipient of the secret automatically bond to you. It puts the giver of the secret in a vulnerable position and it changes the receiver into a protector. That's halfway to being friends.
The second rule is simple but powerful. We accept favors from strangers all the time, without any expectation of becoming friends. But we don't also share secrets with those strangers. It is the combination of the secret and the favor that nudges an acquaintance into a friend.
Most people are wired to reciprocate. So if you go first with your secret and your favor, the recipient will be primed to do the same. It is the willingness to reciprocate that matters.
Obviously you don't want to give a dangerous or important secret to an acquaintance in hopes it will lead to friendship. You want to hold back the good stuff and start with something small. For example, lets say you are both at a dinner party and your host served duck. At the dinner table you told the host the food was wonderful, but later and privately to your would-be friend you jokingly confess that you hate duck. That's a secret, but a tiny one. You don't want to start out with your deepest secrets. Work into that over time.
Likewise with the favors, keep them tiny at first. You might have some special knowledge to share that costs you nothing but a few minutes of your time. Or perhaps you had a conversation about a vacation spot and you forwarded an e-mail with a link that your potential friend might find useful. It's a tiny favor and will be accepted. You don't want to start right off offering to drive someone to the airport at 4 AM.
This partly explains why people who work together, or play sports together, naturally become friends. You have lots of opportunities to share small secrets and perform minor favors. And of course you have lots of things to talk about. That helps.
The secret and the favor are necessary but not sufficient for making a friend. You still need some basic chemistry and common interests. But chemistry and common interests aren't things you can easily change. So if you find a candidate for a friend with whom you have some chemistry and common interests, work on the secret and the favor. Those you can control.
Define Friend
Jan 9, 2009
Have you ever wondered how someone crosses the line from being an acquaintance to a friend? Or more importantly, if you want to convert an acquaintance into a friend, what could you do that wouldn't come off as stalking?
I think you can define a friend with two criteria, both of which must be met. A friend is. . .
1. Someone you have told a secret.
2. Someone who has accepted a favor from you.
Notice that I have cleverly defined a friend in terms of things you give and not things you receive. If you are evaluating your potential friends in terms of what they can give you, or how they can entertain you, you probably don't have many friends.
I read somewhere that telling a secret makes the recipient of the secret automatically bond to you. It puts the giver of the secret in a vulnerable position and it changes the receiver into a protector. That's halfway to being friends.
The second rule is simple but powerful. We accept favors from strangers all the time, without any expectation of becoming friends. But we don't also share secrets with those strangers. It is the combination of the secret and the favor that nudges an acquaintance into a friend.
Most people are wired to reciprocate. So if you go first with your secret and your favor, the recipient will be primed to do the same. It is the willingness to reciprocate that matters.
Obviously you don't want to give a dangerous or important secret to an acquaintance in hopes it will lead to friendship. You want to hold back the good stuff and start with something small. For example, lets say you are both at a dinner party and your host served duck. At the dinner table you told the host the food was wonderful, but later and privately to your would-be friend you jokingly confess that you hate duck. That's a secret, but a tiny one. You don't want to start out with your deepest secrets. Work into that over time.
Likewise with the favors, keep them tiny at first. You might have some special knowledge to share that costs you nothing but a few minutes of your time. Or perhaps you had a conversation about a vacation spot and you forwarded an e-mail with a link that your potential friend might find useful. It's a tiny favor and will be accepted. You don't want to start right off offering to drive someone to the airport at 4 AM.
This partly explains why people who work together, or play sports together, naturally become friends. You have lots of opportunities to share small secrets and perform minor favors. And of course you have lots of things to talk about. That helps.
The secret and the favor are necessary but not sufficient for making a friend. You still need some basic chemistry and common interests. But chemistry and common interests aren't things you can easily change. So if you find a candidate for a friend with whom you have some chemistry and common interests, work on the secret and the favor. Those you can control.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Kittens of the Sea
Nobody would ever eat a kitten, would they? Let's change the name of fish then! (PETA is my favorite organization to make fun of.)
Look what I made!
Create Your Own Sea Kitten at peta.org
The entire site is funny.
http://www.peta.org/sea_kittens/about.asp
Look what I made!
Create Your Own Sea Kitten at peta.org
The entire site is funny.
http://www.peta.org/sea_kittens/about.asp
Friday, January 2, 2009
I'm snotty at Christmastime
Of course, this comes as no surprise to anyone who really knows me, but the fact remains that I'm snotty. All my life, in good seasons and bad, I have been snotty. People often look at me in pity, but I DO NOT NEED THEIR PITY. Could I, however, have a tissue?
Christmas was fun with our family in Texas. I'm sure my dad would have magnanimously given his advice on the subject, like he did when my grandparents were in town a couple months ago. He told them they should take some time to visit my wife and me. We, of course, already had plans with them, so thanks for the suggestion dad.
Baby O got snotty in the worst way. Now I love babies, when other people are holding them. I mean they're fine for me to hold, but I have a smaller chance of dropping them or doing lasting harm the less time I spend in close proximity. Anyway, Baby O, who likes men, never seemed to take with me. I even held him sometimes (pretending I knew what I was doing), which may have been the problem. So go figure--what does his reaction say about me? He did give me his snotty nosed-ness. I can handle lots of things--poopy diapers, flu-related symptoms, etc.--but runny noses really gross me out.
So anyway, I played some chess with the eldest son (names are being withheld because my aunt withholds them on her blog). I went 2-2 against him. He had 2 quick checkmates in the first two games before I got riled enough to see past the effervescent fog of Nyquil. I crushed him the last two games, though he always played for the sneaky checkmates and came close a couple times.
We played Settlers of Catan with the three oldest kids. About 3 games to be exact. Hanna won all of them, of course, but the little strategist (6 year old niece) got to 9 out of 10 points needed for victory. You could actually see the little cogs in her brain working hard to try to win.
I spent most of Christmas Eve and a bit of Christmas Day sleeping or napping, overcome by the Baby O-induced cold. I'm still fighting it. All in all, I'm just happy that this is the first cold of the season. Normally, I'm sick long before now.
Giving and receiving presents from family was nice, though a bit nerve wracking. After 8 years of a father coming to me to tell me that my sister didn't like the presents we bought for her (nevermind teaching gratitude or graciousness, no instead perhaps it is just be easier to criticize me), I can't help but feel anxiety around most kinds of gift giving. I enjoy thinking about people and trying to buy them something they would like, but my stomach gets this low-sinking feeling every time.
Hanna seemed to survive her gluten issues while in Texas, though apparently soy is getting to be nearly as bad. My aunt and uncle truly went out of their way to check ingredients. It's a lot to learn. We are very appreciative of their efforts!
Anyway, Christmas was tons of fun, even though I got sick.
Christmas was fun with our family in Texas. I'm sure my dad would have magnanimously given his advice on the subject, like he did when my grandparents were in town a couple months ago. He told them they should take some time to visit my wife and me. We, of course, already had plans with them, so thanks for the suggestion dad.
Baby O got snotty in the worst way. Now I love babies, when other people are holding them. I mean they're fine for me to hold, but I have a smaller chance of dropping them or doing lasting harm the less time I spend in close proximity. Anyway, Baby O, who likes men, never seemed to take with me. I even held him sometimes (pretending I knew what I was doing), which may have been the problem. So go figure--what does his reaction say about me? He did give me his snotty nosed-ness. I can handle lots of things--poopy diapers, flu-related symptoms, etc.--but runny noses really gross me out.
So anyway, I played some chess with the eldest son (names are being withheld because my aunt withholds them on her blog). I went 2-2 against him. He had 2 quick checkmates in the first two games before I got riled enough to see past the effervescent fog of Nyquil. I crushed him the last two games, though he always played for the sneaky checkmates and came close a couple times.
We played Settlers of Catan with the three oldest kids. About 3 games to be exact. Hanna won all of them, of course, but the little strategist (6 year old niece) got to 9 out of 10 points needed for victory. You could actually see the little cogs in her brain working hard to try to win.
I spent most of Christmas Eve and a bit of Christmas Day sleeping or napping, overcome by the Baby O-induced cold. I'm still fighting it. All in all, I'm just happy that this is the first cold of the season. Normally, I'm sick long before now.
Giving and receiving presents from family was nice, though a bit nerve wracking. After 8 years of a father coming to me to tell me that my sister didn't like the presents we bought for her (nevermind teaching gratitude or graciousness, no instead perhaps it is just be easier to criticize me), I can't help but feel anxiety around most kinds of gift giving. I enjoy thinking about people and trying to buy them something they would like, but my stomach gets this low-sinking feeling every time.
Hanna seemed to survive her gluten issues while in Texas, though apparently soy is getting to be nearly as bad. My aunt and uncle truly went out of their way to check ingredients. It's a lot to learn. We are very appreciative of their efforts!
Anyway, Christmas was tons of fun, even though I got sick.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Single Best Football Game of the Season
I smiled and cheered Dallas in their complete screw-up game against the Eagles. Either team would be in the playoffs with a win, but the loser would be done for the season. What makes my heart maniacally happy is my sister's happy, cocky remarks in her Christmas letter about her Cowboys. Smiling is good for me.
Here's my favorite football writer's breakdown of the game (Gregg Easterbrook, Tuesday Morning Quarterback):
"Single Worst Game Ever Played: Teams in the win-and-in situation in the regular-season finale have blown it before. But what happened to the Cowboys at Philadelphia wasn't a case of nerves, and it wasn't a bad day; it was a meltdown. Most of the team's highly paid stars -- Tony Romo, Terrell Owens, Terence Newman, Adam Jones, Roy Williams -- were actively awful. Head coaching was awful. Assistant coaching was awful -- how come Offensive Genius Jason Garrett was running the same stuff that was stopped by the Ravens the week before? Even the owner did an awful job, distracting the team during the week with incessant talk about what he might do if the Boys didn't win. And play by specific play, performance was awful. You've got to be truly, utterly awful to give up 41 unanswered points in a game in which the playoffs are on the line, in a season when you've been boasting -- as Newman did -- "We're the greatest team in the league."
With the score tied at 3 in the second quarter, Donovan McNabb scrambled on third-and-7 and flipped a short pass to Correll Buckhalter. There were six Cowboys defenders within tackling distance, and all basically did an "Olé"! Buckhalter, who will not make anyone forget Gale Sayers, outran everyone, going 59 yards to set up a touchdown. Dallas got the kickoff and went loss of yardage, incompletion, incompletion, punt. After Philadelphia punted, as well, Dallas again went three-and-out, unable to run despite opening the game with three tight ends on the field. Philadelphia scored again for a 17-3 lead. On the next Dallas possession, Romo forced the ball to the receiver Williams: interception. With 1:04 remaining in the first half, Philadelphia had first-and-10 on the Dallas 42. The Nesharim drove 42 yards for a touchdown -- 26 of the yards on penalties against Dallas, one an incredibly boneheaded late hit by Jones. The touchdown play came when Philadelphia had first-and-goal on the Dallas 1 with 15 seconds remaining -- the Cowboys fell for a play-fake even though Philadelphia held no timeouts. The Eagles kicked off, Jones got the ball and immediately fumbled; Philadelphia kicked a 50-yard field goal to complete a 24-0 second quarter.
Dallas was not finished being awful! In the third quarter, Romo fumbled on the Eagles' 25; Chris Clemons returned the fumble 75 yards for a touchdown. Clemons is a defensive end, yet no Dallas speed player -- not Owens or Williams the receiver -- made any attempt to catch him. On the next Dallas possession, Marion Barber fumbled on the Eagles' 4; Joselio Hanson returned the fumble 96 yards for a touchdown, and only four of 11 Boys on the field made any attempt to chase him, the rest standing with hands on hips, watching, no doubt trying to think of something to whine about. On the next Dallas possession, Romo fumbled yet again -- he got little protection from that Pro Bowler-heavy Dallas offensive line that always seems to be having "an off day" -- setting up the Philadelphia field goal that completed the 41-0 run. Then, trailing 44-3, Dallas punted on fourth-and-3! Still trailing 44-3 in the fourth quarter, Dallas punted on fourth-and-2! And reaching the Philadelphia 24 with the game nearly over, Dallas launched the field goal that made the final 44-6. The Philadelphia crowd collectively laughed as that field goal boomed. Just to prove the whole thing was no fluke, trailing 44-6 with 3:23 remaining, Dallas punted again.
TMQ offers a Single Worst Play of the Season item, but what Dallas did Sunday at Philadelphia goes far beyond that standard. Imagine a 16th-century wooden warship with a cannon rolling loose on its deck and a typhoon approaching, and you're imagining a better situation than the current Dallas Cowboys."
All I can say is, Oh the joy of this occasion in this Christmas season.
Here's my favorite football writer's breakdown of the game (Gregg Easterbrook, Tuesday Morning Quarterback):
"Single Worst Game Ever Played: Teams in the win-and-in situation in the regular-season finale have blown it before. But what happened to the Cowboys at Philadelphia wasn't a case of nerves, and it wasn't a bad day; it was a meltdown. Most of the team's highly paid stars -- Tony Romo, Terrell Owens, Terence Newman, Adam Jones, Roy Williams -- were actively awful. Head coaching was awful. Assistant coaching was awful -- how come Offensive Genius Jason Garrett was running the same stuff that was stopped by the Ravens the week before? Even the owner did an awful job, distracting the team during the week with incessant talk about what he might do if the Boys didn't win. And play by specific play, performance was awful. You've got to be truly, utterly awful to give up 41 unanswered points in a game in which the playoffs are on the line, in a season when you've been boasting -- as Newman did -- "We're the greatest team in the league."
With the score tied at 3 in the second quarter, Donovan McNabb scrambled on third-and-7 and flipped a short pass to Correll Buckhalter. There were six Cowboys defenders within tackling distance, and all basically did an "Olé"! Buckhalter, who will not make anyone forget Gale Sayers, outran everyone, going 59 yards to set up a touchdown. Dallas got the kickoff and went loss of yardage, incompletion, incompletion, punt. After Philadelphia punted, as well, Dallas again went three-and-out, unable to run despite opening the game with three tight ends on the field. Philadelphia scored again for a 17-3 lead. On the next Dallas possession, Romo forced the ball to the receiver Williams: interception. With 1:04 remaining in the first half, Philadelphia had first-and-10 on the Dallas 42. The Nesharim drove 42 yards for a touchdown -- 26 of the yards on penalties against Dallas, one an incredibly boneheaded late hit by Jones. The touchdown play came when Philadelphia had first-and-goal on the Dallas 1 with 15 seconds remaining -- the Cowboys fell for a play-fake even though Philadelphia held no timeouts. The Eagles kicked off, Jones got the ball and immediately fumbled; Philadelphia kicked a 50-yard field goal to complete a 24-0 second quarter.
Dallas was not finished being awful! In the third quarter, Romo fumbled on the Eagles' 25; Chris Clemons returned the fumble 75 yards for a touchdown. Clemons is a defensive end, yet no Dallas speed player -- not Owens or Williams the receiver -- made any attempt to catch him. On the next Dallas possession, Marion Barber fumbled on the Eagles' 4; Joselio Hanson returned the fumble 96 yards for a touchdown, and only four of 11 Boys on the field made any attempt to chase him, the rest standing with hands on hips, watching, no doubt trying to think of something to whine about. On the next Dallas possession, Romo fumbled yet again -- he got little protection from that Pro Bowler-heavy Dallas offensive line that always seems to be having "an off day" -- setting up the Philadelphia field goal that completed the 41-0 run. Then, trailing 44-3, Dallas punted on fourth-and-3! Still trailing 44-3 in the fourth quarter, Dallas punted on fourth-and-2! And reaching the Philadelphia 24 with the game nearly over, Dallas launched the field goal that made the final 44-6. The Philadelphia crowd collectively laughed as that field goal boomed. Just to prove the whole thing was no fluke, trailing 44-6 with 3:23 remaining, Dallas punted again.
TMQ offers a Single Worst Play of the Season item, but what Dallas did Sunday at Philadelphia goes far beyond that standard. Imagine a 16th-century wooden warship with a cannon rolling loose on its deck and a typhoon approaching, and you're imagining a better situation than the current Dallas Cowboys."
All I can say is, Oh the joy of this occasion in this Christmas season.
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