shitstorm

Ok, now I've done it. I've awoken the sleeping beast. Mom was just a squall. Dad, on the other hand, is a full blown category five hurricane. I was feeling that "the news" had gone way too smoothly to be a closed issue.

I expected the brunt of the weeping and wailing to come from my mother. Because that's her m.o. Dad, well, I knew he wouldn't be happy about our decision to move in together, but I expected he'd just keep it to himself. Not so...

He talked to my sister Andrea and erupted in unforeseen furor. Andrea probably has the closest relationship with my dad and even she was taken aback by how angry he was.

My dad and I have always had a strained relationship. I'm not sure why since he and I are probably the most alike in terms of personality. I spent my whole life trying to make he and my mom proud. I always played by the rules, their rules. And I pushed myself. I worked hard in school. I got good grades. I never got in trouble.

So when I graduated from college, the first sign that something was amiss in the relationship I had with my father was the day he mailed me a copy of a print out from Quicken -- a $20,000 bill -- a list of expenditures he'd catalogued between my high school graduation and my college graduation. Money he'd paid for things benefiting me. Now, this isn't soley college tuition since my tuition was roughly $1200 a semester. This was an itemized list for things like scotch tape, parking at the airport, SAT fees. I even recall seeing my high school prom dress on this list.

Needless to say that was a defining moment in my relationship with my father. I vowed from that day forward I would never take another penny from him. I was out of college, and I would work hard and fend for myself. I felt betrayed by my own flesh and blood, treating me as if I were some poor sap going to a bank for a loan. He and I never spoke about "the bill." But it hurt me deeply.

The next time I knew that I was going to disappoint him was the day that I told him I wouldn't be attending my sister's wedding ceremony. I wasn't going to their church anymore and for where the wedding was being held, I wouldn't be allowed to participate in that part. I did attend the reception though and was perfectly fine with that. It's been a long while since then, but I vaguely remember the dread I felt as I knew that I was going to have to fess up to basically renouncing their religion -- my upbringing. I just couldn't bring myself to say the words, so I took the easier path by telling them in email. That went over like a ton of bricks.

And my parents wonder why they have no idea what goes on in my life? Why would I? Nothing is safe with them.

I guess disappointing your parents is like childbirth...you forget very quickly the price you pay with pain.

I should've known that Dad wouldn't take this too well. In my gut, I knew that the trip to Europe would be at risk. He could decide not to let Richard (my 15 year old brother) come on the trip after all. I also had the family reunion out here in August to think about and what the ramifications might be.

But God dammit. I'm nearly 32 years old. I think I am old enough to make good choices with my life. I have a good career. I have a home. I have good friends. Does any of that matter? No, as long as I don't live my life in accordance with their beliefs and "morals," then it's all for naught. You'd think that I was out prostituting myself and shooting up heroin the way Dad has responded to this whole thing.

Of course he hasn't said a word to me. And I doubt he ever will. He'll stew on it for awhile. He's already told my sister that he and my mom will no longer be staying at my house when they come out to visit in August. Instead, he will be staying at her apartment. Andrea told me that he's concerned about Richard being exposed to my lifestyle. Whatever the hell that means. That he's at an impressionable age and that he doesn't want Richard to think that it's ok to live together without being married first. Wake up, Dad. If you think that I am the only influence in his life, you are the one smoking the peyote.

If Dad doesn't let Richard go to Europe, Richard is the one who suffers. He doesn't get to spend time with a sister he's never grown up with and has only spent a few days at a time with for holidays over the last 15 years. He'll miss the opportunity of a lifetime to see a part of the world that he'll probably never get the chance to go to. Goodness knows that my parents have no intention of giving him access to see the world and experience the things that it offers. Dad doesn't want Rick and I to share a room on the vacation, lest the impressionable brother think that our "sinful" ways are ok and condoned.

As Andrea relayed to me what Dad's reaction was, I couldn't help but break down in tears. I don't want them to impact me this way any more. I'm too old to seek out their approval, but it's more than that. I don't want their permission, I just wanted unconditional love and acceptance. But therein lies the issue, because the leopard cannot change its spots.

Deep down, I knew that I have made a decision that would resurrect the chasm that has always been there. The lectures, the expectations, the unsavory "bill," the ne'er uttered words of pride for his daughter's accomplishments.

I spent years in therapy trying to learn to deal with my relationship with my mother. And all the while neglected that I hardly have a relationship with my father. The trust that has been building these last ten years has been shattered in an instance. Not only do I feel it, but now it extends to Rick.

He's disgusted with the situation and how this has been handled. And that makes me sad because a single, indirect response will forever change not only my relationship with my dad, but Rick's impression of my father -- long before they will meet.

I'm tired and worn out. I'm fine and this will blow over, but I needed this release so that I could move on and focus on the rest of the wonderful things I have going on right now.