My parents
This month, my parents marked their 50th wedding anniversary. That's quite a milestone, especially for a relationship so fraught with difficulties.
One thing parents do for their kids is teaching them how something is done. How do you live your life? Chances are you learned most of it from your parents. Parents think their words carry more weight with their children, but the most effective way they teach their kids is by their example.
I don't want to spend a lot of time dwelling on the psychology of why my parents got together in the first place, but I do need to sketch some things out. My parents met in college on a blind date. My dad was a jerk, but he called my mom later and was a different person so she gave him another chance. She thought, erroneously, that because my father was not good enough for her he would treat her well. That seems like a poor dynamic for any relationship, much less a relationship that many believe should last the rest of their lives.
How do I describe my parents? For those following my blog, perhaps they already have an idea of what they're like. Both of my parents came from poor backgrounds. My mom was raised with religion, but her faith did not come into play until later on in life. My dad was cruel, agnostic, an alcoholic, and a womanizer.
I know my parents' long marriage is the direct result of my mom's belief that no divorce is acceptable, a belief passed down to her by her mother. But, the end result of that belief is a marriage dynamic that is dysfunctional and ugly at best. The way my parents have treated each other, I thought, had gotten better over the years. After moving close to them and seeing how they treat each other, however, I've changed my mind. I'm often embarrassed and ashamed by the way they treat each other, still wishing (like that little boy I was) that they would just divorce and get it over with.
My mother is loud, overbearing, rude, and callous. She treats my father this way all the time. She interrupts conversations constantly, which is something I am focused on teaching my 4-year-old is not acceptable. With his grandmother as an example, however, I am having a hard time teaching him that adults do not talk over others and interrupt as a matter of course. There is an undercurrent of resentment in my mother that is palpable.
My father has seemingly given up. He talks about dying an awful lot. He is a proud man, unable to deal with the frailties of his aged body. He is a consummate perfectionist, and if perfection is not attainable, such as the case with his body, then it's not worth doing. It would be better to die, apparently, than to be imperfect and soldier on. He is frequently condescending and aloof. When I ask a simple, direct question I often get an obtuse answer, and the point of that is something I cannot understand.
When I was little, I remember my mother frequently commenting about how my dad was a "softie." One time she said this in conjunction with his using the heater in the master bathroom. It stuck with me the rest of my life that my father was a softie, a weakling, a less-than-manly man. My mother had emasculated my father to me, I realize now. My father was an Army Airborne Ranger, a lieutenant who led a platoon through firefights on the ground in Vietnam, his life at peril both by the enemy and by his own men (who often threatened his life). He spent almost 32 years in the military (mostly in the National Guard), and retired a lieutenant colonel. My father was a shrewd businessman, as well, gathering up nine other buyers to purchase a popular tourist attraction in our town (Evans Plunge) and running it successfully for years. Traditionally in the forefront of the community, and often at the expense of his family, my father filled roles like chamber president and economic development board roles, just to name two. In 1999, he and my mother purchased their own business, outstripping their accountant's expectations and making more money than anyone thought possible. They went on to expand their business. My point is, my dad is not a wimp or a lesser-than. He isn't the man my mom portrayed him to be when I was growing up.
There is deep resentment in my mother for my father, something I felt growing up. My father returns those feelings with indifference and condescension. These were the role models I had for how a married couple should act. The fights were frequent and far-ranging. My mother made me her security blanket, a role for which I was not designed. I was her friend and confidant instead of her son. The person who should have been her friend and confidant was my father or perhaps one of her friends. Not a little boy who had more than his fair share of troubles. Not a little boy who had to put his worries and fears aside to console his mother.
My mother also taught me that cheating is okay, that it's just something to suffer through in a marriage, that there are no consequences except to the person being cheated on. She taught me this without saying it. She taught me by her example. I thought it was uncanny how much my married life mirrored my parents'. I've come to realize it was no mistake; I just followed the blueprints I saw in their lives.
If my parents had divorced, I would have known there were consequences to their shitty actions. If that wasn't possible, then there should have been a conversation that said, "This is unacceptable, but ..." Something, anything, should have been said. But, in the end, the most powerful message is how we live our lives, and that is a lesson I will carry with me. My son is watching me, searching for clues of how to live, whether I realize it or not. He's like a sponge right now, soaking up my actions and words with his eyes. God has impressed it upon my heart to lead a proper life, if not for my sake, then for his.
Part of the reckoning leading up to my divorce was facing the effect of my parents' relationship on mine and then deciding I didn't want to saddle my son with that same burden. I want him to see me in a loving, respectful relationship with a woman or not at all. I don't want him to see the two people he loves the most in this world tearing each other apart. I don't want him to hide from the world because what he sees in his parents' eyes is so evil, and if so much evil can live in his home, then how much more is out in the world? I want him to know that love and respect can exist between a man and woman and that women are not objects. I want him to see that relationships don't have to be hard, that he doesn't have to "put up with" someone's shitty behavior just because failure is not allowed. I want him to know that he can find the right person to go through life with him as long as he is seeking God and being obedient. Most of all, I want him to know he is worthy of being loved by a woman the right way. For all of these things, I take it upon myself to teach by example.
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