Our relationships with our fathers follow us into marriage.
And many of us have virtually no relationship with our dad–because we’ve decided that it’s better that way.
There’s no doubt that sometimes it is–when there’s abuse or addictions involved, for instance. But let me tell you the story of someone that I know. Her parents divorced, and this teenage girl was “best friends” with her mom already. So the more her mom talked about how awful her dad was, the more the girl believed it, to the point that she hasn’t spoken to her dad in almost 10 years (she’s a young adult now). Her siblings, who were much younger, still have a great relationship with their dad, even spending more than 50% of their time with him. But she just doesn’t speak to him at all.
And I watch this girl, and I think, “you may believe that your life is fine now, but one day that’s going to come back to bite you.”
Just because we choose not to speak to our fathers does not mean that our we’ve cut our dads out of our lives. For better or for worse, your dad is always there, as I have learned with my own rocky relationship with my father. Though he’s not in my life much now, his influence was very present at the beginning of our marriage, and took quite a while to work through.
Kate Tunstall, who blogs at The Less Refined Mind, recently sent me her story, which has so much in common with this young woman I’m worried about. I just love her honesty, and so I want to share it with you today in hopes that it will help some of you come to terms with your past–and your dad–too.
Here’s Kate:
I’ve been writing a mini-series about bullying recently, and this has naturally led me to think about forgiveness. It’s a concept I used to struggle with to a destructive degree, not least during an incredibly difficult period of my life when I was estranged from my father.
Parents and children being on bad terms is not the natural order of things, and as far as my own daughter is concerned I simply can’t imagine a scenario where I’d allow that to happen. Losing my child to a disagreement goes against every mothering instinct coursing through my veins.
I’ve never written about the situation with my dad before, because it’s extremely emotive and I’m wary of stirring up strong feelings – but I’ve recently become aware of the prevalence of this phenomenon. And though heartbreakingly it may not always be possible, I’m willing to bet that in 99% of cases a harmonious relationship would be the ideal for both parties. So though it may be controversial I want to share a story with a positive outcome.
My parents divorced when I was seven and I found it very traumatic.
Sure, families splinter every day. And of course many are in far worse situations than I ever was. But I was young and the circumstances were such that I was left believing my dad was a monster. My parent’s divorce was acrimonious, and my siblings and I bore the brunt.
Years later, I had an epiphany following a comment my brother made about how our mother had (unintentionally) indoctrinated us against our father. I think perhaps that was the beginning of me opening my eyes to what had cleaved my dad and I apart for five long years.
Throughout my teenage years there had been a definite tension between us, which with hindsight I attribute in part to my mother’s subtle but incessant barbs. I wish I could have been stronger, but I remind myself I was little more than a child at the time. My father’s undeniable flaws did not help matters, and between us we cultivated distance and resentment.
It was then more than ever I needed my dad, but something I’ll never fully understand took place which motivated him to cut all contact. Initially I made attempts to reach out to him, but after my third effort I gave up and instead began focussing my energies on convincing myself I hated him.
My mum and I did a pretty good job of turning the diminutive frame of my dad into a caricature closely resembling a tyrant.
And while I by no means condone some of the terrible things my dad did to my mum, as an adult I now accept I know little of what truly took place, having only heard my mum’s (very likely distorted version) of events.
Being alienated from a parent left me bereft, the devastation similar to that experienced in a bereavement. Except worse, because I’d been actively banished. Growing up, I worshipped my dad: he was my hero, so when he chose to sever contact it tore me up.
Without question, the most difficult aspect was that my father maintained a relationship with my brothers. I’ll never forget him telling me that there are only two people in life you can ever truly trust, and they are your parents. Knowing the value he placed on family and then having him turn his back on me while continuing to see my siblings was the ultimate rejection.
I was left overwhelmed with debilitating issues: insecurity; anxiety; lack of confidence; paranoia; low self-esteem; depression. And an unhealthy preoccupation with seeking the approval of others. Basically, all the wonderful traits that add up to somebody most people would choose not to associate with. I know this well because last year I suffered a set-back and I’m painfully aware that it can be blamed in part for destroying some burgeoning friendships. (The sad irony is that anyone in such angst is in desperate need of support. The positive I take from this is that it takes one to know one: I’m often able to perceive and recognise the signs, and offer that support to others.)
One of the physical manifestations of my distress was harrowing nightmares. I became terrified of sleep and drank to avoid them. At the time I was also living alone and I lost count of the times I woke up slick with sweat, my heart racing, unable to move.
Of course alcohol is a depressant, and it did little to help me – not only in the form of hangovers but in the longer-term too. I became irresponsible in so many ways I’m ashamed of; ways I’m too mortified to share even now. But I eventually pulled myself away from that lifestyle by moving to a new city and spending a year teetotal.
However, despite beginning to turn my life around, the separation with my dad continued.
My brothers tried to discuss it with me and I would generally shut them down – it was just too painful to face the truth: I was stricken and desperately unhappy. The easier option was to compress my grief into little hard pellets of bile, which would invariably be spat out disguised as anger and resentment. I’m sure I must have been very difficult to be around.
The worst time was Christmas. I’d be forced to wave my brothers off to spend a couple of days with our dad. I pretended not to care, but it always stung. Wearing a brave face physically hurts.
During one of these Christmas visits my little brother took my father for a walk and forced him to listen to a lecture. He told my dad he’d ruined my life, which may sound like a ridiculous exaggeration, but was actually quite insightful. He also told my dad I was getting married the following year and that if we didn’t resolve our differences then he’d miss my wedding.
He made my dad cry like a baby, apparently. And then my brother returned to my mum’s house and did the same to me.
It took until the following Easter to finally wear both of us down. But after five miserable years my father and I arranged to meet. I was immediately impressed that he agreed for my husband to chaperone me, because there’s no way on earth I’d have gone alone.
My dad didn’t recognise me.
That was a wake-up call to the length of time that had passed, and it wounded. It was a very awkward meeting, but we’d taken that first step. Six months later my dad attended my wedding. I didn’t have him give me away or make a speech, but I don’t think he ever really expected those things, and I was simply grateful he was there and we were working on fixing our relationship.
Sadly, the fact my dad was at my wedding meant my mum’s sister and her family refused to be. Which brings us neatly back to the whole point of this post: forgiveness.
I used to be under the misapprehension that forgiveness is the same as absolution. But I’m more comfortable with another – arguably less noble – meaning:
To cease to feel resentment against.
Essentially, forgiving my dad means I’m actively choosing peace and contentment.
I don’t want bitterness and anguish to blight my future, so I now make a conscious effort in all relationships to forgive and move on. Clinging on to old resentments achieves nothing; it simply sucks the joy out of life for you and those around you.
With the benefit of hindsight I believe what ultimately drove us apart were my dad’s own insecurities, borne of when his father left the family home.
Sadly there was never an opportunity for them to make amends or discuss the reasons before my grandfather died. His legacy to my dad was to leave him damaged in much the same way I was damaged by our issues. During our estrangement this served only to enrage me (how could my dad allow history to repeat itself when he knew how it felt?); but on reflection I can see how it would have compelled him to protect his feelings at all costs – even if it meant rejecting me before I could reject him.
Our history is a very poignant example of how misunderstandings and a refusal to forgive can ruin lives. It’s so pointless and avoidable. And I’m so glad my tenacious little brother helped to end the cycle with us.
Forgiving my dad was difficult; forgiveness is always difficult. It means putting compassion (and common sense!) above pride. But I consider it an ongoing, aspirational form of mindfulness, and mastering it will only improve your well-being.
Did you have a rocky relationship with your dad? Did you ever repair it? Let’s talk in the comments!
Sheila Wray Gregoire has been married for 25 years and happily married for 20! She loves traveling around North America with her hubby in their RV, giving her signature "Girl Talk" about sex and marriage. And she's written 8 books. About sex and marriage. See a theme here? Plus she knits. Even in line at the grocery store.
The wedding story reminds me of a quote. “Forgiveness doesn’t make the other person right, it makes you free”. Your recounted tale is a sad one – but more common than most realize. So often in divorce, one spouse is vilified by another, leaving the children of the marriage to drink their remaining parent’s Kool-Aid before growing into an adult and forming their own opinions.
Also, I love how you articulated that forgiveness puts compassion above pride. That’s such an insightful way of putting it and perfectly describes the biggest challenge people (myself included) have in letting go. All the best!
Thanks so much Jason, I really appreciate your kind words.
My father sexually abused me when I was 11. My mom told me to be quiet or he’d go to jail. I moved on with my life and forgave them, but every couple of years I’d have emotional upheavals within myself. Finally 41 yrs later with the help of my husband and priest, I asked for their forgiveness. I forgave them years ago but didn’t show mercy. I kept them at arms length my whole life. I needed to really forgive and understand what that cost me. I was harmed, didn’t deserve to be, and I could forgive and move on, knowing that i wasn’t going to make them pay what I was owed. That was what was missing, mercy. I recommend http://dynamiccatholic.com/year-of-mercy/reflections/forgive-offenses-willingly-som/
The irony with me is that my mother turned me against my father while he was still living at home. They only divorced after I married, but I have no memories of him in my childhood. None at all. He was an absent father figure, because my mother didn’t allow him to be present. If I had $1 dollar for every time my mother said, “I know his your father, but… ” and then proceeded to tell me such intimate details of his life, of their married life, and like you, very one-sided, I’d be a very rich woman today. (She only stopped doing that when my husband went to her and told her to stop.)
And you know what has finally started getting my dad and I back together and allowing us to build a relationship? He started doing the Park Run. And I started doing the Park Run, so we chat every Saturday before the Park Run and meet up afterwards. It’s not much, but there is no more animosity or anger – and for us it is enough. It is wonderful. And he adores my daughter, and even spent time teaching her how to swim last Summer – something I never had the opportunity to do with him. My heart was so proud and so pleased that day!
I realised that after all my mom said about him – he was just a man. A flawed human who needed grace and love and forgiveness and acceptance – just like any other person. He was not the monster my mother made him out to be. I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to realise that – not many people do.
I think sometimes for our own emotional health, we need to give up on the idea of reconciliation. My father never had a kind word for me. I was useless, fat, and hung up my brain when I picked up my coat on the way out of school. Nothing I did was ever good enough – when I came home with a 95 average, I was asked what happened to the other 5%.
I had to withdraw emotionally or I never would have survived my teen years.
I cared for him on his deathbed and he was still a complete jerk – complaining and criticizing most of the time he ever said anything to me. I just tried to finish well by being there for him, and letting Jesus love him through me.
There is still a hole in my emotional well-being, and years later I shake my head when I think of him, wondering how any parent could be so awful – did he really not know what he was doing or did he not care? Probably a bit of both. People – including fathers – are imperfect.
Yes, I totally agree. That’s where I was, too. My dad wasn’t a bad person, he was just completely emotionally clueless and absent. I had to realize he would never wake up one day and realize what he’d done, and I had to let go of that. But I can’t imagine if on top of that he had actually been mean or abusive or anything. I think there’s always holes from what our parents did or didn’t do, but God is good. He really is.
Anonymous, your dad sounds like mine. Unfortunately, I still live with him and have to put up with it. I can empathize there.
I have no relationship with my dad since he remarried and his wife got in the middle of an already barely existing relationship. I would have been happy with polite distance, bringing him my kids and calling from time to time, but it was so much trouble with his wife and him every time, I now wonder if maybe he struggled with the idea that it might not be worth it trying to reconcile his former life (including my sisters and me) with his new one (and new wife). I guess on my side I considered it not worth it to maintain a relationship. I am not angry at him, I wouldn’t mind seeing him again but I do not want to go through any trouble. I sometimes wonder if forgiving in my heart is enough or to which extent I should go go do something about it…
What do you do if your dad doesn’t want to reconcile? I met my dad when i was 10 years old. I was told i had a dad other than who i thought was my dad when i was 7. I met him because when i was 10 he was forced to pay $88 a month in child support. I’m 34 now.
Since i met him, he’s treated me like I’m this mystery that he can’t figure out. He acts like he’s completely baffled by me, so he turns away. He blames it on everyone. My mom, me. But what does a 10 year old do that a grown man can’t handle? I was a little kid. I was a normal kid. I was pretty easy going. I was sweet and funny. I was curious and smart. I can’t even write those things without wanting to explain myself. I feel like I’m gloating. But i have 4 kids of my own who are so much like me. They’re all those things and more. I look at them and think how can anyone not love them?
So, anyway. My dad, since i met him, has cut me out 3 more times. Were currently in another period where he’s completely cut me out. He left my stepmom and i disagreed with how he handled it. I don’t think i did anything to deserve being cut out though. When i see him he either ignores me or tells me about how crappy his life is right now. One time, he looked at me and turned around and walked away. Like he was disgusted.
I could write am entire book about how much my dad has screwed me up. I feel like it’s all my fault. What did i do wrong? Is it because I’m a girl? Do i remind him of my mom? Of my stepmom?
And what does forgiveness mean? Does it mean i just ignore all the crappy things he’s done to me? If i do forgive him, is he going to come back around and everything will be all honky dory? And if we do reconcile, does that mean he can just ignore me whenever he feels like it, when he’s too busy or its too much effort?
I can tell you that i have done nothing to deserve this treatment. I didn’t contribute to our issues in any way. I have mulled this over and over, driven my husband and friends crazy, trying to figure out what i did wrong. They all tell me i did nothing wrong, its all him.
Am i just supposed to chalk it up to “oh no one’s perfect. We all make mistakes.” well, I’m the one left cleaning up after his mistakes. I feel like i am his mistake. I can’t get past it. I have made a pretty good life for myself. I picked a good guy, we have 4 kids. We have a decent marriage. He’s the best dad I’ve ever seen, and i don’t take that phrase lightly. He usually likes being around me. We have normal married people problems.
But i still feel like I’m a bit mess. I wish my identity want so wrapped up in what my dad thinks of me, because the truth of the matter is, he doesn’t think of me at all. I’m nothing to him. I’m thinking this post doesn’t apply to me at all. I’m thinking that the person i need to forgive most is myself for needing a father in the first place. Everyone needs their dad, which i think is the point of this post. But i have to learn how to not need my dad. He’s made it clear that my conception was the biggest mistake of his life and he wishes it never happened. I think i need to let any fantasy of any father daughter relationship go and get on with my life.
And i guess i did right a small book in your comments, so sorry!
I can empathize with you Molly. My dad never wanted me either. I don’t think that’s something you ever get over. People can say “forgive” all they want, but they don’t know what you went through. My dad ignores us (me, my mom and my brother) until he wants or needs something. He even told my brother and I that he never wanted us (including my sister) to begin with. Like I said, I don’t think that’s something you ever DO get over. There are some things that are with you forever.
My Mother and I have always had a difficult relationship. She was an addict when I was growing up, but has been clean and sober since I was 16 (now 32). I now have 3 children and a lovely husband and tried my best to resolve things,forgive wholeheartedly and move on. Unfortunately we fell out again 18 months ago. Recently, she tried to reconcile things. I wrote to Mum saying that while I forgive her and commend her bravery, I believe our relationship is abusive and destructive (on both sides). I do not believe that she respects any of my boundaries and do not want my children to see me in a position where I am being “walked all over” by anyone, least of all their Grandmother. I do not speak of her at all and would never bad mouth her, but right now I am not ready to let her back into my life.
Father’s Love is really a wonderful thing. Need a loving mother, child and father.