Yesterday, I phoned my mum and dad and my dad answered and immediately asked me if I wanted to speak with my mother.
Over the years, he has consistently done this, and frankly, it has always pissed me off. What, you can’t speak with me? Have something better to do?
In retaliation to this and other dismissive activity, I developed a sarcastic and affectionate (at least that’s what I told myself) cycle of picking on him, of teasing, mocking and generally being as obnoxious as I could be. And? I can be obnoxious.
This cycle, has in part, been the status quo of our relationship for years; what I understood deep down was that my dad didn’t really want to chat with me on the phone and apart from the quick and often one-sided chats (he would tell me what was going on, or listen to me filling him in – quickly – before he passed the phone over), that was that. I dealt. I railed and when things didn’t change, I accepted that there wasn’t much I could do to alter the old dog’s ways.
So, when he asked me if I wanted to talk with my mum, I told him I hated when he did that.
“Let me tell you something, honey; when I went away to college, I would call home and my father always just handed the phone to my mother, wouldn’t talk with me on the phone. It always bothered me that he did it, and I always regret that I never brought it up to him.”
“Really, Daddy? And do you draw any parallels to that and your current behavior?”
“You heard what I had to say.”
What staggered me was this was his attempt to address it. That a man as intelligent as my father would retreat into the implied defense of programming – programming that didn’t do anything except create hard, long-lasting feelings. I felt an urge to scream.
“So, let me get this straight. It worked so well for you you thought you would do it to YOUR children? You know this makes me batshit insane, right?”
“Your kids aren’t home, so you pick on me?”
“YOU STARTED THE CONVERSATION!!!” Yeah, I did bellow.
“Daddy, it isn’t difficult, you merely tell me you would rather pick your nose than talk to me, that your bathroom break is overdue, that your hearing aid ran away, whatever. Or, you own the fact that you’re awkward on the phone with your daughters and not the rest of human race , and you fucking COPE with it.”
“You talk like this to everyone, or just me?”
“Dad, you’re telling me that you’ve continued a pathology your dad, who had the communication skills of a sparkplug, started. Guess what? You’re 76, you can officially try something different!”
“Can I go now?”
“Batshit insane, Daddy, batshit insane.”
I think batshit insane describes it perfectly. Why perpetuate a cycle of which you are fully aware! I think what is so bothersome about this is that he’s choosing not to do anything about it as if addressing it is enough. Want me to write him a letter?
It must be a dad thing, my sibs and I can quote verbatim our fathers phone conversation … “Eating right? Getting plenty of sleep? I love you. Here’s your mother.” Of course this is from a man who claims speaking over an electric tel-e-o-phone is one step up from yelling off the barn roof, or so he claims. It has become a family joke and when pressed about it he replies “Your mother will fill me in” … we love you too Dad!
I do NOT understand why my dad uses this obviously flawed operating system. He will not address it beyond mentioning it and I do have the urge to write a letter, outlining how his behavior sucks emotional rocks, but I fear he will not react well and see? Here I am navigating his bullshit with a tendency to merely honor it and not push it too much,
Lordy, how tenacious is our programming?