Home for the holidays
January 6, 2016
It’s easy to forget when it happens once a year. The twinkling, winking fairy lights and the festive holiday wreaths lull me into a false sense of peace. Then I go home and my heart breaks into seventeen pieces again.
It starts from the moment I pull up outside and see the state of disrepair. Much of this is the Sibling’s fault. The half finished lumps of “art project” still litter the browning lawn, the fence is more decayed, and is that a whole section missing? Dad’s gardening projects are scattered around the foyer, messy but less depressing than the signs of a mind far in decline.
A cat darts underfoot seeking a way indoors. This is new. Since we liberated the health-challenged Seamus, stray cats have taken his place.
I step inside and none of the furniture is familiar. Mom’s photos are everywhere, snapshots from my childhood on, and my breath catches. I think of her everyday. Sometimes it almost feels like she’s watching over LB. Maybe she is, I don’t know. It doesn’t make me feel better or worse to believe it. But to see her image, from when she was younger and healthier? I’m not ready for that flood of pain. Am I ever?
I retreat to my room and everything is nearly the way I left it last time. It’s my room, I could sit back in the chair and get to work on figures and making things work again just like fifteen years ago.
***
Dad and I have several conversations, all avoiding the issue. Finally, it comes to a head. My frustrations with his inability to really hear me, to give me the one thing I’ve ever asked for, it all bubbles up. I can’t take one more of his “I thought it was best not to tell you, then it all went to hell” scenarios. So we talk. Really talk.
I tell him that it hurts me when he lies or omits important information. It doesn’t matter if I can do anything about it, chances are likely I can, but even if I can’t, I need to know before it becomes a BFD.
I tell him that it’s nonsensical to say it’s for my protection when, in the end, it has always cost me more stress and more money. See, car towing, for one example.
I tell him that in 17 years, I’ve busted my butt for him and Mom willingly and happily, and only asked him for one thing: honesty.
I tell him that while he may think hiding things is for me, it’s not. It’s his unwillingness to sacrifice a bit of his pride to spare me pain in the only way I asked him to.
I tell him that he has repeatedly promised it and never delivered when it mattered, and this has had a lasting impact on our relationship.
I tell him that in the depths of my health decline, I seriously considered getting a life insurance policy big enough to take care of them for at least a decade and offing myself because his actions made me feel like my only value to him was monetary. That he didn’t value me as a person in the least, that he was only willing to pay lip service to his gratitude for all my willing sacrifices.
I tell him that his latest, going behind my back and then confessing only after I had inadvertently trapped him, was exactly what Sibling would do. It’s exactly what he’d done his entire life: taking advantage of my trust, and then tearfully apologizing after he’d already gotten what he wanted.
I tell him Sibling’s pattern of behavior ruined that relationship and I was not prepared for it to ruin ours.
I tell him that Mom’s dead, Sibling’s as good as gone, he’s my only family left. He needs to remember that. He also needs to remember that LB is his only shot. He is unlikely to have any chance to try again with another grandkid so he needs to make choices that show he knows that. He spent years trying to make up for not being there for us as kids, this isn’t the time to repeat that pattern.
I tell him that I wasn’t telling him to get it off my chest, I don’t vent for emotional release. I was telling him because I expect it to change. It has to change.
*
I don’t tell him that I don’t ask him questions because I don’t want to be lied to.
I don’t tell him that because of them, if you plan to ask me for forgiveness rather than permission, you don’t deserve either.
I don’t tell him that I’m at the absolute end of my tether with them all and I almost no longer care if LB has a relationship with hir grandpa. Because it’s not entirely true. I care a lot. I stopped caring for me, so much, but I will be damned if I sit back and just let Sibling’s wreck of a life and poor life choices, and Dad’s guilt complex, deprive LB entirely of hir maternal grandparents.
*
He apologizes.
He admits that he’s been wrong this entire time, and most especially this last time.
He explains that he’s been pushing himself to earn any income because he needs to cover Sibling’s expenses, because at the very least, the few dollars that go toward Sibling’s care aside from shelter should come out of his pocket, not mine. At least not directly.
He admits that he had been planning to hide his health issues from me, particularly if it turned out to be cancer, on the premise that burdening me with the knowledge when there’s nothing I can do would be selfish.
He acknowledges that it is my choice to insist on having the full picture, no matter for good or ill, big or small.
He promises to stop hiding things.
*
I don’t know if he’ll keep this promise, or if it’ll go the way of the hundred other broken promises. I don’t know if this is real progress, even. I’d say that I can only hope but I’m not sure that I can do that, even. I can only wait and see.
I understand his instinct to hide dire health issues, I’d do the same. Hell, I have done the same. For 15 years I hid my chronic illness from them. They knew I had some pain issues, but didn’t know how severe they’d become, and I didn’t tell them because there was absolutely nothing they could do about it except hurt for me as my parents. But there’s a huge difference between a chronic illness and a potentially terminal one, and still, either way, I’d want to know because there are things that I can do to ease discomfort and to help. I don’t just sit in my hermit-cave and worry uselessly, I do things. I get shit done. I can’t fix the world but I can help, a little.
Understanding is not the same as agreeing.
***
The holidays were never particularly special in our family. We couldn’t afford the time and energy to celebrate, and really didn’t have the money to. But they are now the time we go back to spend time with family, and they are when all the miscommunications (intended or not) are brought to light, and all the facades get knocked over. They’re the time for regrets over the years we lost, for nightmare fights with Sibling as my subconscious wrestles with this reality it hates, for pretending good cheer even as I discover how much worse things have gotten since last year.
Someday, the holidays won’t be preceded by six weeks of nightmares about Sibling, or an acidic gut from anticipating what truths will out this time. But the way things have progressed, I’d be lying if I said I was optimistic about what someday holds instead.
The holidays are never easier, and as you point out, many have it tougher than others. Sorry that it wasn’t as merry and bright as it could have been otherwise.
Thanks, I appreciate the thought.
*hug*
Thank you.
I second that *hug*
Thank you.
I’m so sorry that the holidays are such a big stressor for you. I can’t even imagine having to navigate such a complicated family dynamic. From a much lesser perspective, my dad is incredibly private as well. Last year, he had emergency heart surgery to repair an aneurysm that was found on a fluke…and told me the night before probably because my mom threatened him bodily harm otherwise. He didn’t tell his siblings until two weeks after the surgery. I think it comes from a place of love – but it also comes from a bit of pride, a bit of denial, and feeling like he needs to look after me (and not the other way around). Sending serious virtual hugs your way!
Thank you very much. And yes, that sounds like a very familiar / plausible scenario we might face. Only, without Mom to tell me what he’s hiding. Argh!
*hugs*
My partner’s family is so much less drama-filled and critical than mine, so it was nice to have that at Christmas. But I still missed mine, even if they are dramatic and critical.
Thank you.
It’s odd (or maybe not) how we still miss our families even though there is stress involved. I suppose the one doesn’t negate the other.
What a painful and complicated mix of emotions: grief, rage, fear, distrust and longing. I applaud you for being able to speak openly about your expectations and your repeated disappointments.
Bravo for wanting what’s best for LB — but remember to save some of that care and concern for yourself. You have been given a raw deal in several ways, so please know when to step back in terms of your own health and sanity.
As they say over at Captain Awkward* — Jedi hugs! And thanks for showing us all that it’s all right — in fact, necessary — to speak the truth even when it hurts.
*This is a tremendously useful and entertaining site. Highly recommended, both for the advice of the Captain and the reader comments.
Thank you – it’s not the easiest but sometimes this is the best place to lay down my frustrations.
It’s been a long few years of learning how to distance myself without failing my responsibilities as steward (or whatever I am).
I do love Captain Awkward! Thanks for the Jedi hugs.
Family. Humans.
One line that’s been haunting me ever since I binged on Jessica Jones these holidays is from when Kilgrave is waiting for Jess to come downstairs for dinner. It goes something like ‘how do you people live like this, day after day, just waiting and hoping for people to do what you want?’ Indeed.
Much love.
“HUMANS” indeed.
That’s such an apt line. I’m looking forward to my Jessica Jones marathon. One of these days.
No wonder you’re so ill. The stress and bullshit must have taken quite a lot out of you. I hope your dad does turn over a new leaf…but if he doesn’t, know that we’re here for you.
That is actually an excellent observation. I didn’t consider how much of my immune system was probably preoccupied with the stressor response. Ugh.
But thank you for the support, it means a lot.
I know I can’t relate to all of this exactly, but I can’t help but compare it to my family situation a little bit. I relate a LOT to the ‘dreading seeing how much things have deteriorated since last time’ thing. It hurts so much. I have never told anyone this, but I always delay going out of the airport terminal to the public area every time I get off of the plane–even after ~28 hours travelling, I need just a little more time–in order to steel myself for the ever-different people I’d be meeting at the gate. (Why isn’t it sometimes better than last year?? It’s always worse.) Every trip home, I adjust to the new situation, knowing that it will only decline. While I’m home, I start to dread next year’s visit, when I will have to go through it all over again.
And the Sibling issues. Every time I spend time with mine, I write her off a little bit more. Honestly, there isn’t much left there. That is really sad. She was always my best friend in a way I cannot even describe and there is no way anyone else could come close to that level, ever again.
I say all of this hoping it helps that someone can relate a little. It helps me feel less alone to read your family posts, and for me to write these comments out. So thank you for both opportunities.
How disappointing that your dad continues to not get it. Your frustration is palpable, and understandable. I hope that he changes for you, and for LB.
Families.
I think that of anyone, you would understand the best, our situations seem quite similar.
And I would probably hide in the bathroom before coming out of the terminal, in your shoes. It never quite feels like enough preparation, does it? I have to steel myself before each phone call, much less before each visit.
I appreciate your sharing, too, it helps me knowing that others can also manage a life through these less than ideal circumstances. To say the least 😛
Oof, that sounds incredibly draining. And frustrating. Frankly, I think I probably would’ve given up by now, so you’re a better person than me. Or more stubborn. Or both.
Take care of yourself and LB, and try to figure out how to set more firm boundaries if/when the lying starts up again. I felt a lot better once I had better boundaries in place when it came to Tim’s parents and their finances. Not remotely the same situation, but it does rhyme.
Not better, just …more stubborn or thick-headed. I don’t know. I suppose it’s just ingrained in me at the deepest levels that this is not optional.
It sucks that the lying has more to do with the existence of more boundaries than it does the lack of them because I know how to set boundaries, I’m not sure how to deal with someone who takes advantage of them to do whatever it is he’s doing.