(no subject)
Jan. 6th, 2011 11:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jianantonicWe got back from Florida last night. We were only gone for six days, but it felt like forever. I camped out in the back seat the whole way down and back. Coming back was rough -- we added a whole day to our trip (and about 8 extra driving hours) to pay two very short visits to family and friends on the gulf coast . It was nice to see them, but so not worth the time. And now I'm kinda way behind on my work. I have a plan for today, though. Everything will get done.
The drive was kind of excruciating. My parents are not good travelers, and it was very tense. I did learn a lot, though. I've traveled thousands of miles with my parents, and I've always been aware of the dynamic, but I'm just sort of used to it and never really thought about it. I know my dad is different -- he has a terrible temper, but for all the things I take super personally, I've never let my dad's mood swings get to me. I guess they're just SO over the top that it's impossible to take it seriously, even when the smoke is coming out of his ears. Things I got yelled at about this week: the mess I made in the back seat (a blanket, pillow, and book), not taking my room key fast enough when he silently handed it to me, telling the Subway cashier that I had a veggie pizza when it was just olives, asking to charge my phone, asking if we could find a Quiznos, not eating all my salad (all I left on the plate was dressing and a few stray shredded carrots), and pointing out that he was about to miss our exit. The thing with Dad is that he'll get SO mad about things that really, really, really don't matter at all (see above), but then in the next breath, everything is normal again. He acts like nothing happened and is back to joking. Who knows what the fuck will make him scream the next time, but whatever it is, it doesn't last. And it's not worth getting defensive or even responding, because it just doesn't make any sense.
After 50 years with the guy, my mom still hasn't figured this out. When he gets irrationally pissed off (which is frequent but brief), she just loves to incite him more. They don't really fight -- mom's too passive aggressive to engage in actual fighting -- but she does things that she knows will only get his blood pressure higher when she also knows she could just let it go and be done with it. It is hard to just let it slide when someone is screaming at you over something ridiculous, though. But with my dad, that's really the only thing you can do. No sense in trying to present it rationally, because that part of his brain is simply turned off during these outbursts.
If it weren't sad, it would really be comical the things he gets worked up about. But it's my dad, and I worry he's going to give himself a heart attack the next time some random thing sets him off. And it really is so random, it's not like you can even tiptoe around it. There's always going to be something that sends him into a rage. That's just how he is.
All this is basically background for the holy shit revelation I experienced on this trip. As outrageous and crazy as my father seems to me sometimes, there's a lot of that in me. I would get upset over similar things -- a clear example was when we were trying to get to a restaurant for lunch and we followed signs but couldn't find it. Dad was furious, and yelling at Mom and me about it, as if we'd hidden the Subway from him. And I would do the same thing -- if I lost more than three seconds searching for something that I felt like I should be able to find, I'd get so frustrated and cry and just totally melt down. I had no sense of perspective that hey, I'll find it in a second, I still have my gps, it's not like I needed those five seconds. The most minor frustrations would turn into catastrophes in my mind. I'd have an oversized freakout, but then it would be gone as quickly as it came on, because obviously the problem is easily solvable and I'd be over it in a minute. I'd go back to being normal(ish) and want to have a normal conversation or laugh or joke or whatever, but Z would be scarred by my freakout and unable to just get back to normal with me. And I'd be pissed that he didn't get that it was over and everything was cool. And I'd lose my shit all over again.
I never really saw myself so clearly until I started to really think about what was happening with my dad instead of just brushing it off as "oh that's just Dad. He's always like that." Because, shit, it's a horrible way to be. It feels horrible on the inside, when there's really nothing to be upset about, and it's a horrible way to treat others. And even though my bad mood can be gone in the blink of an eye, there's a wake of destruction for others, and that kind of repeated abuse can really break a person. And that's what I was doing.
The good news is I don't have these feelings anymore. I'm able to check in with my emotions, even when they're very strong, and every time I've evaluated myself, I've felt good about the way I was reacting to situations.
Based on the way my Dad just goes right back to joking around after his outbursts, I feel like he doesn't even realize what he's doing. And I don't think I ever realized it about myself, either. It's like a blackout. I know that I'm not really an asshole. But I also know that I've really, really acted like one. A lot. But if I were really seeing how I was behaving, I would have been horrified. That's not me. (Except that it was me, all the time. Yikes.) I know now that I've been very, very sick. It's so strange, because I've always been smart. It's not like my mind was so warped that I was stupid. But for parts of my life, I was just blacked out in a rage, and never saw how completely incongruous my behavior was. My mind was totally broken, but it's not like I couldn't do math anymore or something.
That's something that makes it hard to sympathize with a person like me or my dad, I guess. You know we're smart, and therefore should know better than to behave in these ways. There's this assumption that with crazy comes dumb, and when a non-dumb person does really unreasonable shit, you don't think "sick," you think "asshole." I'm not trying to make excuses for myself. I did act like an asshole. I just didn't realize it.
I'm better now. Not all the way better, but way better, and improving each day. I don't want to ever be this way again. I'm committed to that. Committed to keeping a relationship with a therapist who can tell me when it's time to adjust my treatment. Committed to trusting those around me when they tell me I'm acting nutty. Committed to not being an asshole anymore.
The drive was kind of excruciating. My parents are not good travelers, and it was very tense. I did learn a lot, though. I've traveled thousands of miles with my parents, and I've always been aware of the dynamic, but I'm just sort of used to it and never really thought about it. I know my dad is different -- he has a terrible temper, but for all the things I take super personally, I've never let my dad's mood swings get to me. I guess they're just SO over the top that it's impossible to take it seriously, even when the smoke is coming out of his ears. Things I got yelled at about this week: the mess I made in the back seat (a blanket, pillow, and book), not taking my room key fast enough when he silently handed it to me, telling the Subway cashier that I had a veggie pizza when it was just olives, asking to charge my phone, asking if we could find a Quiznos, not eating all my salad (all I left on the plate was dressing and a few stray shredded carrots), and pointing out that he was about to miss our exit. The thing with Dad is that he'll get SO mad about things that really, really, really don't matter at all (see above), but then in the next breath, everything is normal again. He acts like nothing happened and is back to joking. Who knows what the fuck will make him scream the next time, but whatever it is, it doesn't last. And it's not worth getting defensive or even responding, because it just doesn't make any sense.
After 50 years with the guy, my mom still hasn't figured this out. When he gets irrationally pissed off (which is frequent but brief), she just loves to incite him more. They don't really fight -- mom's too passive aggressive to engage in actual fighting -- but she does things that she knows will only get his blood pressure higher when she also knows she could just let it go and be done with it. It is hard to just let it slide when someone is screaming at you over something ridiculous, though. But with my dad, that's really the only thing you can do. No sense in trying to present it rationally, because that part of his brain is simply turned off during these outbursts.
If it weren't sad, it would really be comical the things he gets worked up about. But it's my dad, and I worry he's going to give himself a heart attack the next time some random thing sets him off. And it really is so random, it's not like you can even tiptoe around it. There's always going to be something that sends him into a rage. That's just how he is.
All this is basically background for the holy shit revelation I experienced on this trip. As outrageous and crazy as my father seems to me sometimes, there's a lot of that in me. I would get upset over similar things -- a clear example was when we were trying to get to a restaurant for lunch and we followed signs but couldn't find it. Dad was furious, and yelling at Mom and me about it, as if we'd hidden the Subway from him. And I would do the same thing -- if I lost more than three seconds searching for something that I felt like I should be able to find, I'd get so frustrated and cry and just totally melt down. I had no sense of perspective that hey, I'll find it in a second, I still have my gps, it's not like I needed those five seconds. The most minor frustrations would turn into catastrophes in my mind. I'd have an oversized freakout, but then it would be gone as quickly as it came on, because obviously the problem is easily solvable and I'd be over it in a minute. I'd go back to being normal(ish) and want to have a normal conversation or laugh or joke or whatever, but Z would be scarred by my freakout and unable to just get back to normal with me. And I'd be pissed that he didn't get that it was over and everything was cool. And I'd lose my shit all over again.
I never really saw myself so clearly until I started to really think about what was happening with my dad instead of just brushing it off as "oh that's just Dad. He's always like that." Because, shit, it's a horrible way to be. It feels horrible on the inside, when there's really nothing to be upset about, and it's a horrible way to treat others. And even though my bad mood can be gone in the blink of an eye, there's a wake of destruction for others, and that kind of repeated abuse can really break a person. And that's what I was doing.
The good news is I don't have these feelings anymore. I'm able to check in with my emotions, even when they're very strong, and every time I've evaluated myself, I've felt good about the way I was reacting to situations.
Based on the way my Dad just goes right back to joking around after his outbursts, I feel like he doesn't even realize what he's doing. And I don't think I ever realized it about myself, either. It's like a blackout. I know that I'm not really an asshole. But I also know that I've really, really acted like one. A lot. But if I were really seeing how I was behaving, I would have been horrified. That's not me. (Except that it was me, all the time. Yikes.) I know now that I've been very, very sick. It's so strange, because I've always been smart. It's not like my mind was so warped that I was stupid. But for parts of my life, I was just blacked out in a rage, and never saw how completely incongruous my behavior was. My mind was totally broken, but it's not like I couldn't do math anymore or something.
That's something that makes it hard to sympathize with a person like me or my dad, I guess. You know we're smart, and therefore should know better than to behave in these ways. There's this assumption that with crazy comes dumb, and when a non-dumb person does really unreasonable shit, you don't think "sick," you think "asshole." I'm not trying to make excuses for myself. I did act like an asshole. I just didn't realize it.
I'm better now. Not all the way better, but way better, and improving each day. I don't want to ever be this way again. I'm committed to that. Committed to keeping a relationship with a therapist who can tell me when it's time to adjust my treatment. Committed to trusting those around me when they tell me I'm acting nutty. Committed to not being an asshole anymore.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 02:35 am (UTC)I'm so proud that you're working through this all now. I think life will be a lot better for you. And it's definitely good that you're analyzing your family, too. A lot of my shit I learned from my own family, and it's hard to un-learn.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 08:48 pm (UTC)