“With age comes wisdom, you'll get there and see someday. You have so much to learn and those lessons can be very painful. You're just beginning your journey. Best of luck.”
This is the last thing my father said to me before I finally blocked him from my life last week. He doesn’t know that I have screenshots of the entire short, yet wild and very public conversation, but for his sake I will only share that portion.
Now, I’m sure reactions to this will be mixed and divided. Some of you will immediately support because you’ve been there with a parent of your own, and honestly, if you know, you know. Some of you will wonder how I could ever block a parent from my life and might think that I’m probably the problem. Others still might even wonder how something could be so irreversible that counseling wouldn’t help. And a handful of those who know him personally might be completely shocked (if you’re one of these people, trust me, you don’t know the half of it). I encourage all of you to keep reading.
I, like so many other women, have never had the “daddy’s little girl” relationship that decades of daughters have had with their fathers, contrary to what you may have seen on social media (another reason why social media should be taken with a grain of salt). Instead, I always wondered and observed from afar what that type of life must be like. My father was mentally and emotionally pretty awful to me throughout the course of my life thus far, and I have eons of issues because of it. He was never physically abusive, but as many of us unfortunately know, not all abuse leaves bruises and broken bones; only broken spirits. He’s made me cry on multiple special occasions and spent the majority of our conversations throughout my childhood and adolescent years convincing me that if I didn’t do things the way he would do them then I was doing them wrong. I used to dread having phone calls with him because they almost always wound up being some sort of lecture or life lesson that I needed to learn. I often either felt bad about my life choices or had to take a deep, cleansing breath after finally ending a call with him. Hanging out with him in person was also a struggle because I could never fully be myself, even as an adult. If I didn’t say or do things to his approval or lifestyle I knew there would be a talk about it, or at the very least, some sort of “joking” comment making me feel like I’m not as wise or mature as him about whatever it was that I was doing. I’m 34 years old with a career and a child of my own, and to this day I have never felt like an adult around him because he carries himself at a level so much higher than those around him.
And I could never tell him any of this. Why? Because as much as I wanted to, time and time again, it would somehow be turned back onto me and how I’m perceiving things incorrectly. It was classic narcissism no matter what direction I tried to take.
Now mind you, I have not come close to even scraping the surface of the mental trauma he has put me through. I dealt with it, though, and usually just turned the other cheek, continually reminding myself that that’s just how he is and that I needed to be the bigger person. We didn’t see each other too much since my parents were divorced and he lived a state north of me, and it became even less as I entered adulthood, so most of the time that tactic worked. A recent event, though, and how he handled it, finally did it for me. I gathered all my courage and held nothing back, calling him out on every hypocritical comment and lie after lie as he danced around my questions without ever actually addressing the issue. I even went as far as calling him out on social media because my texts with him were getting absolutely nowhere, which says a lot because airing out my drama all over Facebook is something I never do. But I was being strong and standing my ground and being his mirror, and he hated every bit of it. He hated it so much that eventually his true colors had no choice but to go full spectrum, and boy did he shine. Truthfully, I hope someone saw it all before he quickly deleted all the comments. His vibrant explosion finally shattered any and all respect, tolerance, patience, and care that I still had for him. Lord only knows what he’s saying and posting about me now that I’ve finally cut ties. I’m quite certain that it’s nothing positive and that he’s continued publicly victimizing himself as he so often does, regardless of the situation. A close friend of mine, who knows my history with him and is not afraid to offer a different perspective or let me know if they think I’m being unreasonable, simply said “he is poison” after reading the online banter that’s now surpassed all the other things he’s said and done to me up until this point. On some distant level, I somehow feel bad for him.
Now back to counseling, why not try it? Honestly, you can’t really help his level of narcissism because, simply put, it’s on an extreme level. Narcissists don’t know they’re narcissists, as my therapist has explained to me, therefore they see nothing wrong with themselves, only things wrong with those around them. In addition, though, he isn’t even fully aware that he needs help, nor would he likely admit it if he did ever realize it. He definitely has some intense childhood trauma (that he doesn’t even know I’m aware of) that isn’t helping the situation, but again, you can’t help someone who “isn’t interested in where he’s been, only in where he’s going.” And to those simply in utter disbelief at how someone could ever block a parent from their life, regardless of the circumstances, consider yourself fortunate that you do not understand having to choose between your mental health and a relationship with your parent. Some of you will say that life is too short to not talk to your parents. I say life is too short to tolerate emotional and psychological abuse from your parents, but hey, to each their own.
So, what’s the point in me writing about all this in the first place? No, it’s not just to bash my father, though I will admit that the closure held within this post is somewhat soothing. It’s because, like many of my other posts, I know I’m not alone and I want others to know they’re not alone, either. I know there are other people with these exact issues that want nothing to do with their parents but have yet to speak up, and I want them to know that their mental health is more important. Their kids’ mental health is more important. Their nieces’ and nephews’ and siblings’ and spouses’ and grandkids’ mental health is more important. No relationship, family or otherwise, is worth sacrificing your stability or wellbeing. I truly believe that you should always fight at all odds to protect your peace, even if that means cutting ties with a parent. Being a family member doesn't magically make someone any less toxic or damaging. And as much as it has royally sucked to lose a parent and to have my son lose a grandparent, I’m also really proud of myself for finally holding up a giant middle finger to him and being done with his bullshit, coming out stronger than I was before, and wanting better for myself and my family.
So this one is for you, dad. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the daughter you could continue to manipulate. I’m sorry that you raised me to stand up for myself and what I believe in, and I’m sorry that I found my voice. I’m sorry that your relentless mental and emotional abuse is preventing a relationship with both me and your grandson. Though, on that same token, I’m not sorry for breaking the toxic family cycle and protecting him from what I endured. Thank you for teaching me how not to be a parent, it is the best thing you ever did for me. And you’re right, this lesson was painful, and I am certainly just beginning my journey. My journey without you. As you said so yourself, “with age comes wisdom,” and at age 34 I have finally become wise enough to let you go. I will continue to grow and learn so much from this. I hope you do the same. Best of luck.
Cheers!
-The Whiskey Mom
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