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.)