So. More on my family because it’s heavy on my mind. I wrote about it at length in the last post and I want to continue with it now. I’ve written at length about what a jerk my father is. I’ve written less, however, about the betrayal of my mother, probably because it hurts more. I expect my father to be a selfish asshole. That’s his brand. He’s been that way my whole life. He only cares about me because I’m his daughter, heavy emphasis on ‘his’. I’m a female-shaped girl child in his mind–my actual personality doesn’t matter. In fact, it’s just a hindrance in his mind. He has very set ideas an what a woman is and he’ll cram me into that rigidity, come hell or high water. Now, while in general, it wasn’t directed at me, in some ways, it was worse because he expected me to agree with him. Or at the very least, he had no compunction about saying it to my face.
The one that is burned into my brain happened a day or two after my brother took them to Costco. I didn’t go because this was a month or so after I left the hospital and I knew I wasn’t ready to brave a Costco run yet. My parents were tired when they got home, which I had expected. Costco is huge and can be overwhelming. A day or two later, my father mentioned going to Costco.
Side note: Here’s the thing you have to know about my father. He’s a shithead. But I’ve been very clear about that. It’s that he gets this look on his face when he’s about to say something offensive. It’s hard to explain, but it’s a cross between a smirk and a cold stare. I’m sure he thinks of it as his thoughtful face, but that isn’t what it is. At all. It’s more a “I’m better than you are in every way even though I’m a sack of shit” face than anything else.
Side note II: The recent visit from my parents really allowed me to see my mother for exactly who she is–an enabler and a martyr. I realized about a decade-and-a-half ago that she was a narcissist, too ,but not to the degree that she really is. It’s been very hard on me to accept that she’s just as damaged and cruel as my father. More so in some ways because she knows that my father is full of shit and protects him, nonetheless. It took me dying for me to realize that my mother would shove me under the bus to preserve the fiction that my father is not what he is.
I told K a month or so after I returned home that my mother would choose my father over me if she could only save one. My brother and I have known since we were little that my father always came first in my mother’s life. And, while I have never wanted children just because I never did, a large part why I never had them was because of how fucked up my mother was as a mother. There was no way I was putting any child of mine into the position of being anywhere near my parents, and even when I was twenty and fucked up, I knew that the best thing I could do for my nonexistent children was to not let them be born. Again, I never wanted children, so it was all theoretical, but my desire to stop the abuse was a big reason I was able to stand firm against my mother’s manipulations and cajoling (for me to have a kid) for fifteen years.
I’m furious.
It’s no good for me to pretend I’m not. And, again, it’s directed at my mother for being the enabler. My father is who he is. Whether he can help it or not is a toss-up. But my mother? Yeah, she chose my father as she has my entire life. Oh! The Costco story. A few days after my brother took them to Costco, my father got that look on his face that he gets when he’s about to say something incredibly offensive. I braced myself as he started nattering on about the trip to Costco. That’s the other thing that is annoying about his offensive statements–he has to waste time in the buildup instead of just getting to it. He mentioned how big it was and how for smart people like us (forced pairing), it was not difficult to navigate.
I didn’t say anything at this point because I was just waiting for whatever bullshit he was about to spout. I knew he wasn’t talking about Costco for shits and giggles. That’s not how he rolls. He had a point to make and it was going to be a bad one. That’s not me in retrospect–that’s me bracing myself at the time. I know my father better than he knows himself and I knew that he was going to say something terrible.
Side note III: It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself not to get caught up in his bullshit. I always get pulled in. I know the best thing to do is just nod and smile before getting away as quickly as possible. I know this as well as I know that my mother will take my father’s side in the end. And yet, I allow myself to get pulled into the morass. Even as it’s happening, I don’t know how to avoid it. This time, my father said, “Smart people like you and I can navigate Costco with no problem, but what about the ty5pical housewife? Surely, she must have difficulties with shopping at Costco.”
A haze of red fell over me as he uttered those words. First of all, which decade is he is? The twenties? The forties? He was born in 1939, so it’s not either of those. Second of all, there are just so many things wrong with that statement, it’s hard to know even where to begin. That’s the problem with talking to my father–everything he says is so hopelessly wrong, there’s no way to unravel it or to tackle what’s wrong with what he’s said. First of all, he won’t care or change his mind. But mostly, it’s because everything he says is wrong–you can’t really tackle any angle of it.
Take that statement about housewives and Costco, for example. First of all, the idea of ‘housewives’ is so hopelessly antiquated, it’s laughable. Most women in America have to work and more to the point, want to work. Secondly, whenever I go to Costco, the majority of the people shopping are women. Third, shopping at Costco isn’t that different than shopping at Cubs. You have your list and you know what you need. You probably know how your Costco is laid out and where things are. It’s bigger, yes, but the basic plan is the same. Fourth, women in het marriages are usually the ones who go shopping. And have been for decades. Fifthly, my father would not be able to shop at Costco by himself. He would be lost and confused, which makes it doubly bitterly ironic. That’s not even touching the whole ‘we’re smart, but the typical American housewife is not’ implication that his faulty statement is predicated on.
He felt no shame or embarrassment in saying this out loud to someone he knows as a woman (me). He has no problem showing his utter contempt for women to someone he perceives as a woman. When I was a teenager before I had a boyfriend, he told me that the way to get a boyfriend was to raise my voice a few octaves, allow a boy to beat me in a sport, and ask a boy to teach me something (like cars). I looked at him and said if that’s what it takes to get a boyfriend, then I’d rather be single for the rest of my life. A sentiment I still stand by three decades later, by the way.
But imagine growing up with the man who is supposed to be the most important in your life pouring this poison in your ear. Now that I’m starting to think about dating again (pandemic notwithstanding), it’s hard not to let that toxicity seep into my pores. Not just from my father’s noxious beliefs, but from my mother’s support of it. When she’s not trying to excuse what he’s said, she’s actively agreeing with him. That’s the part that has been harder to deal with–the betrayal of my mother. While she was here, she said more than once that her heart was with my brother and me. I finally told her that it didn’t matter where her heart was when her words and actions supported my father. I also told her to stop saying she wouldn’t talk to me about him because we both knew that was a lie.
I know they won’t change. They’re too entrenched in their beliefs and behaviors ,which came through loud and clear while they were here for three months. That means that I have to change. I resent that, but it’s the truth. My father is going to be a selfish jerk until the day he dies. My mom is going to be a manipulative enabler until the day she dies. I have to accept that and just let it fucking go.