After having lunch with a friend and a very long discussion about or divorces I came to the realization, much to my dismay, that I married my dad.
I have heard that we always tend to marry our parents, obviously not literally, but figuratively, without even realizing it. Although maybe some places in the south…. anyway, the more we talked the more I realized just how similar they were. There are definitely differences between the two, such as my ex having gone to college and working a professional job earning a decent paycheck. My dad did not go to college and was a truck driver. My ex was very involved with our kids up until our separation, my dad never was. He was the typical 70’s dad, go to work, come home, eat dinner, plop in front of the t.v. for a baseball or football game and then I would only see him again if we were making too much noise in our rooms upstairs and he had to come up and lay down the law and a few swift swats to the butt as well. My family also enjoyed some really great and memorable vacations together. When I was growing up I think we left Iowa once, that was to go to Minnesota to visit my cousins. That was our big family vacation.
But in so many of the bad ways they are exactly alike. Immature, selfish, narcissistic, cannot take responsibility for their own actions, wants everyone else to take care of them and so much more. But one thing stood out to me that I had yet to realize until the other day. Almost 30 years ago was the last time I spoke with my dad. I tried and tried to have a relationship with him but his new wife kept getting in the way. You see she wanted my dad, but not the baggage (i.e. his kids) that came along with him. So she slowly went about alienating us, one by one, from my dad. However, I did not let that deter me. I was determined to keep my dad in my life. So when the day came after I had been living in California for a while and my dad came to visit me, I was very excited to see him and tell him about California. So he came to my mom’s house where I was staying, however, not only did he bring his wife, he refused to get out of the car, so I was forced to stand in the street and talk to him through the car window. After initially saying hi quickly my brother came out and wanted to talk to my dad, so I went around to the other side to talk to my step-mother, as usual things started out o.k. and then we ended up getting into an argument, about what I couldn’t tell you. All I know is she turned to my dad and said “drive” my dad looked at her, then looked at me, unsure what to do, she once again said “drive” the next thing I know he had put it in gear and tore off. And that was it – gone from my life just like that because his wife told him to “drive”. No apologies, no explanation, just gone.
So all these years later in dealing with my husband and our issues, when it came down to him making the choice between myself and what was controlling him he also chose to drive away. Neither my dad nor my husband, or any other boyfriend I have had for that matter, has ever chosen to stay and fight for me, fight for our relationship, fight for our family, fight for anything. Am I not worthy of fighting for? Is my love not enough? Am I not good enough for someone to love? Or is just that they were too weak to fight their demons and it was easier to walk away then fight. They were trying to slay a bigger dragon and I was in the way. Or so I tell myself.
If you have ever been a situation in which the person you loved had to make a choice between yourself and another person, an addiction or anything at all and they chose the latter, you know the hurt that goes along with it, the insecurity the emptiness and self-doubt about what kind of a person you are rather than what kind of a person they are.
To that I say to you, and myself, you are worthy, it is they who are not worthy of you.
In the words of Wayne and Garth “We’re not worthy, we’re not worthy!
(but you really are)