Blasphemous as it may be, especially since the man is fighting cancer, I have to get this off of my chest. I love my daddy, but he can be an arrogant bastard sometimes.
We were sitting in the living room together the other night. And he was waxing philosophical about my professional accomplishments, reminiscing on my childhood, and indirectly patting himself on the back for how "well" I turned out. He talked about how we felt like he was hard on us growing up, especially when it came to grades in school, but see where we are in life and how much it has helped us....
Well, I'm not sure if we remember the same chain of events, but I definitely recall being scared shitless to walk into the house on report card day with anything less than straight A's. I can get with wanting to establish academic excellence and all that jazz, but I literally remember being terrified as if he might physically hurt me or something. I mean, you would think the world had come to an end or that I had killed someone if I made a B in algebra. Instead of providing some understanding that we cannot forever be perfect in every single academic subject, I walked away with the sense that I was doing something wrong, which I would be harshly punished for.
Not in middle school or high school, but after undergrad, I also remember coming to him -- after being eligible to graduate after completing my credit requirements in only 3 years -- about how I was unsure what I wanted to do, what to do next, and felt like I wasn't ready to leave just yet. I also recall how he pushed me to graduate, even when I felt like I wasn't ready. When I look back at those graduation photos, I still see the sadness in my eyes for what should have rightfully been a joyous occasion, if this was decision I had made for myself.
The way he was talking was as if this was part of some grand design he had created and executed for my life -- and look how well I turned out, thereby making him Grade A parent. Well, excuse me if I recall the events somewhat differently. For me these experiences have a lot to do with my paralyzing fear of producing anything less than perfection, and feeling bad about myself when, as what tends to happen, things do not always turn out accordingly. It has everything to do with not being able to trust how I feel, or feel like I can make good decisions for myself.
Yes, I may look good on paper, but this rigid "design" for my life has hurt me in ways that he would fail to ever understand. Maybe not professionally, but certainly emotionally, socially, and psychologically. These are those internal wounds that bleed that he cannot see, but which I know are there.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
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