Daddy Dearest

It’s been a week since my last post and what a week it has been. It hasn’t been a particularly bad week…but an emotionally charged one nonetheless. Trying to get a grasp on the relationship that I’ve had with Leila over the past three years I started reading the book “Stop Walking on Eggshells: Taking Your Life Back When Someone You Care about Has Borderline Personality Disorder”, and I have to tell you…the descriptions fit. Maybe not exactly…Leila may simply have a moderate case of the disorder as not all of it fits, but again…she doesn't really let people get too close to her and I’m no psychologist. However, in the course of reading this book there have been many passages relating to “un-chosen relationships” or more specifically…addressing the question of how to deal with a child or parent that has Borderline Personality. When I started reading chapter 9 entitled “Protecting Children from BPD Behavior” I lost it. Right there in class I completely lost it. Thankfully I was sitting in the back row and was able to gain control of myself before the professor dismissed the students.

I have not up until now written about my father, but he and I have never had what could be termed a normal father-daughter bond and I think I know why now. I have come to believe that my father may have been, or at least displayed traits similar to, Borderline Personality Disorder. When I began reading that chapter a landslide of memories washed over me. Not only of the kinds of behavior my Father displayed as my brother Andy and I were growing up, but of my Mothers efforts to protect us from him. The following day I began my internet search looking for clues and found a book specifically related to being the child of “a borderline”. I ran out immediately after work to buy it…and I started reading. If the general book about BPD fits Leila to a great degree…this one is almost spot on. Not only does it describe in almost word for word detail some of the experiences I had growing up with my father it describes almost word for word thoughts and feelings I’ve had about myself over the years. It has described my personality, having grown up in this environment in an eerily familiar way. And while re-living some of these memories has been hard…and many tears have been shed…I almost feel relieved. I mean…how refreshing to finally have something in print telling me why I’ve never believed my father loves me. It’s not because I was a bad, ungrateful, overweight and un-attractive person not deserving of love…it’s because my father most likely has un-diagnosed BPD.

To be clear…I walked away from my father at the age of 21 after a particularly “bad” night and did not speak to him again until I was 30. In those nine years I “got over” many of my childhood demons. I proved to myself that I am a worthy and capable person and when I felt strong enough I contacted him…he is my father after all. Much like any reconciliation with a borderline personality the reunion was great. Wow…dad really has changed. He seemed to care, and he even apologized for the wickedness of my childhood. This would last all of two years. I mean…looking back on those two years I can see the traits. Once again I had to start screening my calls lest he be in one of his moods where either myself, my brother, or my mother would be the targets of his tirade of derogatory characterizations. I needed to hear the message to see what frame of mind he was in before I would call him back. As with Leila…I figured this was a good way to “manage” the relationship.

It was Thanksgiving of 2006 when the relationship went completely off the rails once more. I asked my brother what the plans were for the Holiday as we had gone to see our mother the previous year and neither of us could afford to in 2006. He didn’t know for sure…all he knew was that my father and his new wife were not having Thanksgiving at their house and had been invited elsewhere. It sounded reasonable so I suggested to my brother that we host an orphan Thanksgiving for our gaggle of friends that couldn’t get to see their families either. My brother didn’t feel we needed to invite our Father as he was sure they had other plans and most of our friends, aware of his “moodiness”, wouldn’t want to come if they knew he would be there. When Andy suggested we save some money on supplies by asking "dad" if we could borrow his I was unsure but Andy assured me that it would be OK. “Dad has plans…he wont be upset we didn’t invite him”. I relented and allowed Andy to place the call. When we went over to pick up the Roaster and casserole dishes my dad informed me that he and his wife would be joining us for the holiday. We dissuaded him, telling him that he was welcome to join us but it wouldn’t really be his scene. Besides, we told him, what about the woman you agreed to have dinner with? What will she do if you don’t show up as you are her only invitees? This was of no consequence to him, but the message was clear…we didn’t want him. And to tell you the truth…we didn’t. Neither of us has a great relationship with him. My brother is far closer as a consequence of actually working with the man, and he has by far received the lions share of the deplorable treatment, but both of us are scared of him and his temper and his inappropriate behavior. Oh…I could go on and on for days about why we might not want him around our friends but suffice it to say we have good reason.

In the end, he and his wife elected not to come to our feast. I have no doubt she was at the receiving end of his rage…I’d seen it the previous Christmas. Andy received the onslaught of insults and character defamation with a dash of guilt while I got lucky. All I’ve gotten from the man is one message letting me know that “I may have made the worst mistake of my life” followed by the silent treatment…fourteen months and counting. Keep your “money” dad…if you even have all that you say you do. I’ll take sanity over any potential inheritance thank you very much. Many people upon meeting me don’t understand why I don’t have a relationship with my father and I am reticent to share with them as stories of emotional and physical abuse make people uncomfortable. I am thankful for my sister friends in Sacramento who do know...who lived it with me...who formed with me the family that got us all through our dysfunctional home lives. I am thankful for the book as it has exonerated me from any blame in the matter. I am thankful for my mother for all she did to shield us as children…often at her own expense. I weep for my brother who is still doing “the dance”. He is hard to reach. He is not doing well. He is blind as a consequence, not only of his own troublesome behavior in response to life with dad, but also because my father refused to pay for his medical insurance or purchase his insulin for him. I wish I could give him this book. I wish he would let me help him but he is prideful and often when he sees me it is therapy…even before I got this book…and boys…well…boys just don’t cry.

But I also wonder how this has affected my relationship with Will. If maybe this is the reason I have such a desire to help him and make him happy…to fix everything. I mean…that is one of the personality traits that “survivors” share. Over the years I have learned to set boundaries with people and accept that sometimes I don’t have the answers or the solution to any given problem. I have come to grips with the idea that I am not responsible for the happiness of others. But, is this why I feel such a bond with him? Is it because he is so in need of someone to listen…someone to care? And if it is…does that matter? Or…am I kidding myself. I honestly don’t know.

The weekend wasn’t bad. We had separate evenings Friday and Saturday. Paul was in need of some TLC so I emailed Will to let him know that I would likely be out and about with him but that he shouldn’t feel like he wasn't prohibited from nor required to join us should we show up at The Zone, but was welcome to call or come over after if he so desired. A little neurotic but given our past history with pub miscommunications I make no apology for my weirdness. Friday he came over very upset over some news he had received. Not really the thing that should send a person into a tail-spin, but with Will…this is no surprise. Simply being with me at my house was enough to make him feel better…in fact, when I asked him if he needed to talk he put his arms around me and said “No…I’m fine now that I’m here”. We went to bed and had a nice lazy Saturday morning. Saturday afternoon I enlisted Pauls help to get my moms Piano from the people who can no longer keep stewardship of it. I’ll admit…its nice having it back in my possession. Showed Paul my gratitude by taking him to dinner and then went to the Zone to hang with Sally and get silly on cheap drinks. Will was there talking to some guy I don’t know and he didn’t look good…and it didn’t take me long to figure out why for there in the bar was the dreaded Simon. Wills terminally single alcoholic #&#* of a friend/roommate who always puts him in a bad mood and Saturday was no exception. In spite of his protests I picked that man up and brought him home with me so that he wouldn’t have to wake up to Simon and his need to have his 30 something year old ass wiped for him. Despite the fact that Will was not happy that I ventured out into the rain he didn’t make a huge protest and I know he was happy once he got to my house.

But...the following day was Super bowl Sunday. And we all know what that means…right? Yup…Will wanted to go home early as he had his plans with the boys. I was bothered none as I'd had very little female company, so I hooked up with Lydia for spicy salsa and fatty comfort food in a girl-fest of a protest directed toward the pig-skin ritual. I was still at Lydias when William put in his nightly call and as is par for the course when it comes to time spent with Simon he was fit to be tied. I asked him if he wanted to come over. “Yes I do, but I can’t” he told me. I sighed and said “Fine…I won’t press the issue tonight as I’m over at Lydias anyway but you really need to start spending more time with me and less time with Simon.” “I know”…was his reply. Seeds. First you plant and then you sow.

But Monday…as my feminine cycle pulled on my emotions in the same way the moon pulls on the tide I started thinking why does he spend time with these guys that drag him down when he could be spending time with me. He says he wants to…but can’t. What is that about? Is he lying to me? Does he not really want to spend time with me? Am I wasting my time here? And despite knowing that I do in fact make him happy and he didn’t really want to leave on Saturday when I had to go take care of my business nothing anyone said to me about my emotional state could dissuade me from sending him an email letting him know that his decisions to spend time with Simon when he could be spending time with someone that makes him happy is making me insecure. He didn’t take it well and when Lydia texted me well past the time he would usually put in his nightly phone call I was ½ asleep but that didn’t stop me from hitting the speed dial to call my man. I was genuinely worried that he hadn’t made it home the previous night since his last words to me were all but drowned out by Simons drunken blather. I was also a bit concerned that he had taken my words wrong so I was surprised when he actually answered. He let me know that he already felt bad about the weekend and my email hadn’t helped matters. After a bit of conversation I was able to convince him that I wasn’t mad at him…just that I didn’t understand his choices. I told him that it is less about a cry for attention and more of a curiosity as to why he insists on surrounding himself with negativity. We ended the conversation on a good note and today I sent him an email suggesting he come over so that he could be around someone that doesn’t drag him down. I said that we could chat about things he and I could do together and I included suggestions of things that would be both inexpensive and fun.

No reply…and I wasn’t even sure I would get one…I didn’t even expect one. Really…I was simply planting another seed…putting an idea in his head…being an annoying little angel on his shoulder whispering in his ear “come to the light…come to the light…I like you…come to the light” as I wave my hand in a semi-seductive come hither sort of gesture. But as I was writing this post I was interrupted by his call. He’d had to go to his parents tonight and he’s sorry he didn’t take me to a movie last week. I assured him that the movies are unnecessary as all I really want to do is spend time with him. “I know” he said “but I would still like to actually take you out from time to time.” He was his normal non-Simon infused self and we teased each other and had some laughs. No mention of my email asking him to come over some night this week or a suggestion of a movie, but I’m pretty sure his schedule won’t allow it anyway…and I’m OK with that. Those seeds will sprout sooner or later…I feel sure of it.

Having said that…lets just hope I don’t hear about another bad night with Simon before I actually bleed or there might be a fireworks show that would dazzle Martians in the next galaxy over.