(no subject)
My dad has cancer and it's going to kill him.
That's the bare bones, cut-to-the-chase, balls-out honest truth. I'm saying it like that because it took my stepmother five long, frustrating, agonising (to me) minutes to actually say what could have been said in five seconds. Adults in my life have a long history of beating around the bush to make horrible news less horrible. It doesn't work and what's worse, it irritates me so that when they finally DO get to the point I sort of say, "Is that all?! From the way you were acting I thought nuclear war had started." Which is not, of course, the right way to react to the news that your dog has been run over because your mother won't tether her or build a fence even though the dog WILL NOT stay off the road, or the reaction "Well, YEAH, I KNOW?" on being told that your parents are getting a divorce, but don't worry, it's not your fault and we still love you. We've been pretending to have a real marriage for the last five years, even though we're miserable and we've done it for YOU, but don't feel guilty, no, no, we love you SO much that even THIS was not too much of a sacrifice. We'll still take care of you and don't worry, we won't sell the house and you won't have to move, this will always be your home, until the time that they don't, they do, you do and it isn't.
So fuck you guys. Fuck. You.
I feel bad that I don't feel worse. I feel pretty awful, but I should feel worse. I wish I could/wanted to go over there and help, but I can't/don't. This is horrible. I don't want my father to have cancer, but I don't want to see him, either. It makes me feel really bad. I haven't considered him a parent for a long time, longer even than I haven't thought of my mother as one. I would, I suppose, like to go and help my stepmother. She is a kind person, but I don't like her. However, it gives me some small measure of comfort that I do wish I could go and help her because she's had a pretty terrible couple of years. First, she had cancer, which was treated successfully. Then, her sister was found to have the same cancer, but in untreatable form. She is close to death. Their brother died suddenly a few months ago and my stepmother is left to look after her parents, who live with them. Did I mention her dad suffers from Alzheimer's? Let's not forget my stepsister, who is schizophrenic, can never live alone, and who may be relapsing because she's taken this news about my father very badly. So, yeah, I can find it in me to wish I could help her.
What basically happened was that she phoned me to tell me...some news...um, the other week... At this point I cut in and said, "Debbie, has my cat died?"
No, no, but your father is going to get results tomorrow from some tests he had done. I didn't want it to hit you out of the blue, so instead of waiting the extra 24 hours so I could actually tell you something useful, I'm going to tell you now so you can be conflicted and upset for just that bit longer. Sorry you aren't as lucky as your brother, I managed to get him in the middle of his work day, that was helpful, wasn't it?
Even better, when I phoned to find out how things had gone, she answered and spoke to me for a minute before putting my father on the phone, so she could "let him tell me." My father proceeded to tell me that the prognosis was pretty good and that they figured that chemo should be successful. He then handed the phone back to her and she told me that my father was so hopped up on meds that he didn't know what he was saying and that actually his tumour is basically untreatable and he has a maximum of two years to live, if he's lucky. She'd "heard him talking to someone else" and had to phone them back and explain. Fine. Why let him talk to me first then? Whatever, I don't even care, I can't actually process. She then asked me if I could let my brother know (the other one, who is estranged from my dad, for good reason). I said I absolutely would.
I thought (but wasn't going to say) this when we were speaking: I know what my dad is like to her and her family; I'm glad that they get to see the good side of him, but that's not what he was like to us. There are reasons that we aren't a family and a lot of them are his fault. It's all water under the bridge and has been for many years anyway. I feel it's even more so now, but unfortunately the damage is done and it's irreparable. When you're abandoned by someone who is supposed to take care of you, you learn how to take care of yourself, because you have no choice. Then when they decide, more than a decade down the line, that they want to be your parent again, it's too late. IT'S TOO FUCKING LATE, because you don't need them now, you needed them then and since you learned to look after yourself and did a better job than they ever fucking did, thank you very fucking much, you will just keep on doing it and bedamned to them! (Not, of course, literally) I did end up saying (a much kinder, more diplomatic version of) it, only because I didn't want anyone saying anything bad about my brother. My father was worse to J than he was to any of us and there's good reason for my brother to want to be left alone.
I am not thinking these things to be callous, cruel, unforgiving or cold. I just can't make myself feel anything else or think of him as a parent. I remember the day I finally realised something with enough clarity to be able to articulate it: I don't love my parents because they didn't take care of me. Finally understanding WHY I didn't feel the way most people do toward a parent was a relief.
But I'm still very sad today, because none of this had to happen and I wish it was different.
That's the bare bones, cut-to-the-chase, balls-out honest truth. I'm saying it like that because it took my stepmother five long, frustrating, agonising (to me) minutes to actually say what could have been said in five seconds. Adults in my life have a long history of beating around the bush to make horrible news less horrible. It doesn't work and what's worse, it irritates me so that when they finally DO get to the point I sort of say, "Is that all?! From the way you were acting I thought nuclear war had started." Which is not, of course, the right way to react to the news that your dog has been run over because your mother won't tether her or build a fence even though the dog WILL NOT stay off the road, or the reaction "Well, YEAH, I KNOW?" on being told that your parents are getting a divorce, but don't worry, it's not your fault and we still love you. We've been pretending to have a real marriage for the last five years, even though we're miserable and we've done it for YOU, but don't feel guilty, no, no, we love you SO much that even THIS was not too much of a sacrifice. We'll still take care of you and don't worry, we won't sell the house and you won't have to move, this will always be your home, until the time that they don't, they do, you do and it isn't.
So fuck you guys. Fuck. You.
I feel bad that I don't feel worse. I feel pretty awful, but I should feel worse. I wish I could/wanted to go over there and help, but I can't/don't. This is horrible. I don't want my father to have cancer, but I don't want to see him, either. It makes me feel really bad. I haven't considered him a parent for a long time, longer even than I haven't thought of my mother as one. I would, I suppose, like to go and help my stepmother. She is a kind person, but I don't like her. However, it gives me some small measure of comfort that I do wish I could go and help her because she's had a pretty terrible couple of years. First, she had cancer, which was treated successfully. Then, her sister was found to have the same cancer, but in untreatable form. She is close to death. Their brother died suddenly a few months ago and my stepmother is left to look after her parents, who live with them. Did I mention her dad suffers from Alzheimer's? Let's not forget my stepsister, who is schizophrenic, can never live alone, and who may be relapsing because she's taken this news about my father very badly. So, yeah, I can find it in me to wish I could help her.
What basically happened was that she phoned me to tell me...some news...um, the other week... At this point I cut in and said, "Debbie, has my cat died?"
No, no, but your father is going to get results tomorrow from some tests he had done. I didn't want it to hit you out of the blue, so instead of waiting the extra 24 hours so I could actually tell you something useful, I'm going to tell you now so you can be conflicted and upset for just that bit longer. Sorry you aren't as lucky as your brother, I managed to get him in the middle of his work day, that was helpful, wasn't it?
Even better, when I phoned to find out how things had gone, she answered and spoke to me for a minute before putting my father on the phone, so she could "let him tell me." My father proceeded to tell me that the prognosis was pretty good and that they figured that chemo should be successful. He then handed the phone back to her and she told me that my father was so hopped up on meds that he didn't know what he was saying and that actually his tumour is basically untreatable and he has a maximum of two years to live, if he's lucky. She'd "heard him talking to someone else" and had to phone them back and explain. Fine. Why let him talk to me first then? Whatever, I don't even care, I can't actually process. She then asked me if I could let my brother know (the other one, who is estranged from my dad, for good reason). I said I absolutely would.
I thought (but wasn't going to say) this when we were speaking: I know what my dad is like to her and her family; I'm glad that they get to see the good side of him, but that's not what he was like to us. There are reasons that we aren't a family and a lot of them are his fault. It's all water under the bridge and has been for many years anyway. I feel it's even more so now, but unfortunately the damage is done and it's irreparable. When you're abandoned by someone who is supposed to take care of you, you learn how to take care of yourself, because you have no choice. Then when they decide, more than a decade down the line, that they want to be your parent again, it's too late. IT'S TOO FUCKING LATE, because you don't need them now, you needed them then and since you learned to look after yourself and did a better job than they ever fucking did, thank you very fucking much, you will just keep on doing it and bedamned to them! (Not, of course, literally) I did end up saying (a much kinder, more diplomatic version of) it, only because I didn't want anyone saying anything bad about my brother. My father was worse to J than he was to any of us and there's good reason for my brother to want to be left alone.
I am not thinking these things to be callous, cruel, unforgiving or cold. I just can't make myself feel anything else or think of him as a parent. I remember the day I finally realised something with enough clarity to be able to articulate it: I don't love my parents because they didn't take care of me. Finally understanding WHY I didn't feel the way most people do toward a parent was a relief.
But I'm still very sad today, because none of this had to happen and I wish it was different.