"It's Wrong"

My dad called again this weekend. He wanted to know if they could come for a visit.  I get this call every few weeks.  Each time I say that he is welcome, but I am not ready to allow visits with my mom.  This time I was more clear.  "It is your choice to stay away dad".  He said, "No, we're being told.".  I reminded him that I have been consistently clear that he and my aunt are welcome to visit.  His response was "It's wrong".  Two powerful words to the daughter who is trying so hard to stop feeling like it's wrong to put an end to the dysfunctional cycle I have known my whole life.

It made me angry.  I feel angry still.  So many things have been "wrong".  And my dad never said a word.  He never spoke up.  Nobody did.  Nobody ever came to me as a kid to say, "It's wrong".   Nobody ever told me it wasn't my fault or that I didn't deserve it.  That it was going to be okay.

It was wrong.  He was wrong.  Wrong to not come home after work.  Wrong to lie.  Wrong to hide booze around the house.  Wrong to smash his car while drunk.  Wrong to need a babysitter.  Wrong to scare his kids.

And her.  All the yelling.  Screaming.  Shaming.  Bullying.  Crying.  Smashing.  Threats.  It was wrong.  He didn't say a word about that either.  It was my job as their kid to take it all in.  And it is my job now to continue to.  And if I don't, if I can't, that is wrong.  And if I ever stood up for myself, that was wrong too.  You're not supposed to speak out against a parent.  You're supposed to take it.

After all the things that were wrong, I never once heard him stand up and say a word.  He took it.  Her abuse.  Let her abuse us.  Never stood up to say that anything was wrong, ever.  Until two years ago, he made sure I knew I was wrong to not speak to her then.  And again now.  My only experience of my father standing up for anything was to stand up against me.

So I have let them both down.  The anger makes me think I don't care, but the charge that runs through my body tells me that I do.  If I didn't care, it wouldn't affect me.  I want to not care.  I feel angry because every time I finally feel some relief, he calls and I go back to fight or flight.

I want to disconnect completely.  I want it to be over.  I'm so sick of disappointing them.  Being in their life is like shooting craps.  Will I land on pride or disappointment.  I never know.  Every time I play, it switches.  We're so proud.  You're breaking our hearts.  Disappointment was always such a part of my relationship with my mom because she was always so vocal about it.  What I never realized was how much my dad agreed.  Not saying anything was his silent support for everything she did. All those years that I thought he silently felt for me and sympathized with how she treated me, he didn't.  He silently condemned me for standing up for myself.  He never thought she was wrong.  Only me.

I was a kid.  I needed him to say it was wrong then.  I was just a kid.  I get to say enough now.  Enough.