Catharsis: the other side of the happy childhood

HenryMc · August-6th-2005, 07:31 AM

Catharsis - I dont post this for sympathy - I dont want it or need it (thanks anyway) but to share in case someone else had it less than happy and can see that they aren't alone.

Isn’t it funny how a sound or smell can send you into a reverie or back to a place that is good or bad? The smell of 4-7-11 Ice cologne will always take me back to the first girl I kissed and the sweetness of it all. Other things take me back to darker places I don’t wish to go. I try to fight this as going through it all was the tough enough the first time but when I’m down it comes back anyway.

Friday night when I was twelve we had always has fish and chips. We were Catholic so Friday’s meant fish. My sisters and brothers had married and were gone and it left me with the war zone that was my parent’s lives. My father was a Protestant so he always demanded steak on Fridays. Mum had to cook it so it was ready when he finally deigned to come home. If it was not ready, there would be trouble. If it was overcooked or dried out because he was late there would be trouble. In fact, looking back, there was no way there could not be trouble.

Friday’s were always the same. I’d get home from sport and get on my bike and peddle to Chris’s seafood and get Fish and Chips for two, as Mum would fry a steak for Dad. She’d have me eat and try to get me into bed, or at least into my bedroom before he came home. She would physically stiffen as his car turned into the driveway and she would try to get things ready. He’d stagger in sometimes happy but more often that not abusive. Sometimes he’d eat in silence and other times he would rave. All it took though was one wrong word to send him into a rage. Normally I would cop it first. “You’ll never be any good” he’d slur. “You’ll never be a man, look at you; you’re a maggot”. Then came a fist or slap to the back of the head. Mum would hurry to protect me saying “Harold leave him alone” and he’d weave around and start on her “You, you bitch you’ve made him into a girl, look at the girl cry when I hardly touched him, this is what you’ve done” Then he’d rave how he’d turn me into a man despite what she did. Mum would say “go to bed, it’s going to be bad tonight” and I’d steal away to my room, locking the door and turning on the radio to escape the yells and abuse going on downstairs. If I was lucky it would die down his raving fading as he fell comatose but if I wasn’t it escalated into the kind of violence that most people can never understand. The sounds of slapping and crashing cutlery would keep going and the screaming would get louder. Mum would be called names and accused of being a slut, a whore, and a bitch. If she tried to defend herself she would be assaulted or punched. If she didn’t the abuse would get worse till he would say that we, his children, weren’t his.

At least once a month, on the nights the moon was full, the fights would get to a place where nothing could stop it. Having bashed my mother, carefully so the bruises didn’t show, he would rave. If she didn’t act cowed or beaten he would continue until he destroyed her or until she ran. Sometimes she’d bang on the ceiling as she left yelling “Get out , Get out” and I’d run too catching up with her at the phone box at the end of the street where we’d sit in the dark waiting till he had fallen asleep when we’d crawl back, quietly to our beds. The next day, nothing would be mentioned. My father wouldn’t talk but would disappear to the back of the garage where he would do what ever he did. He wouldn’t talk again till Monday and life would resume an uneasy peace.

If I wasn’t quick enough to get out or if he grabbed me as I ran past I would pay. He would turn on me. Nothing in any werewolf or Dracula movie could ever scare me like the look he would have on his face. I remember him kicking down my door and grabbing me by my hair and dragging me out of bed. He was a strong man and he’d throw me down or punch me hard in the stomach. If I cried or whimpered he’d say “Crying, you girl, I’ll give you something to cry for” and he systematically beat me. Leering at me and pressing his fingers into my flesh as I struggled he‘d say “Wassamatter boy, mummïes not here to protect you now”. His voice a hollow monotone, he’d call out to my mother “Margaret, comeback” he’d say as he dragged to the front lawn. I’d look up wide-eyed, tearless, wordlessly pleading “No no no no no no”and wishing against all hope that my mother would not reappear but she would and knowing his words or punches could not hurt her anymore that night he would bash me. Beat me with his hands, his belt and at on some occasions with a metal engineer‘s rule all the while calling me names, belittling me. “Dog, Useless, Stupid, Sissy,” were all names I was called and reminded that I would never be anything or be anyone. I would struggle till I break free and I’d run and hide mainly in the lantana bushes behind the chicken shed where I’d lay in the dirt biting my lips so hard to stifle my crying that I’d draw blood. If I made a sound I knew I’d be found and have to pay for breaking away. So I’d lay in the dirt, silent, terrified, and totally alone wondering what I’d done to deserve this . Sometimes I’d fall asleep and stay out all night in the cold hidden in the undergrowth . Sometimes I’d be found by my Mother who would coax me out and pull me to her and say “Shhhhhh Shhhhhh, quiet my boy” and she tell me not to tell anyone what happened as they’d take me away from her to some home where I would be mistreated and me, in my ignorance feared these ‘homes‘ more than my own. In her desire to protect me she had become his co-conspirator. She protected him as he tore me apart slowly but surely. He never sexually abused me but he ripped me apart just as surely as if he had done so. People who have been subject to sexual abuse often say they often feel that they want to shed their skin, I often think I would like to shed my soul. I am reminded constantly by ads about breaking the cycle of violence and that the abused had a propensity to abuse. This is a generalisation that I could never understand as I could never visit what happened to me on anyone and yet I have lived a life in constant fear of repeating the cycle or of discovering the virus of violence that haunts my soulstream. I am told it is there. It must be my fatal flaw.

Now, of course, I know better. Society tells me my father was a man who, disappointed in his own life, sought to taken his failures out on others and that my mother was a dependent personality who sought to be a victim. I am told that the violence visited on me was ’transference’ and that I was merely a target of vilification in the absence on any other. I know this. I understand this yet there are times and I suspect will always be times, mostly at three o clock in the darkness of the pre-dawn where I wake with a shiver and be the boy of twelve hiding in the lantana, tasting the salt of his blood and tears wishing he could disappear forever. Ah such IS life.

patricia · August-6th-2005, 08:55 AM

Henry, how much truth do you think there is in my theory that what we consider "normal" family interaction is carried over into our adult life??
I don't think that enough attention is paid to the causes of the cycle of domestic violence. I think that our parents and our grandparents, if we grew up with them, set the standards of our eventual hard-wiring.

The reason I ask is that I find that how I handle stress is directly related to how my family did. We learn how to be adults from our parents. That's their primary responsibility in raising us and ours in raising our children.

In crisis situations I believe that we fall back into habits learned as children from our parents. The real danger is, I think, in children when they grow up taking the horrible example of the relationship of their parents, if it was abusive, and repeating it in their own lives.

I have told both my daughters that the most important thing to observe, should they seriously consider marrying somebody is not how their lover treats them, or how he treats his mother, but how his father treats his mother. That, in my opinion, is his blueprint for what it means to be a husband and a father.

I wonder sometimes if there is hope for someone whose family was truly disfunctional. It takes a deliberate and constant effort to unlearn the example of what it is to be a good person, a good friend and a loving, supportive partner to another person. Very difficult for someone whose parents had a rancid life, I would think.

HenryMc · August-6th-2005, 09:33 AM

Patricia

I hope that theory is a preposterous as the opposite: that those who have had loving families cant turn to violence. Sure studies show that a violent upbringing sometimes begets a cycle of violence but so does poverty, unemployment, and the lack of or failure of opportunity.

If I believed your theory I should have killed myself a long time ago as it is obvious the stain of the dysfunctional can never be washed away.

My point, I guess, is that we can transcend the pitfalls. I do agree we learn the lessons of life from our parents but this does not mean that we mimic them. The constant fear of the cycle of violence to which I refer is the understanding that, yes, I am bound by genetics and yes, it scares me that your theorymay be right.

I, for the record, have never hit a woman or a child prefering reason to any form of violence. Of course, that maybe because I dont feel I have failed in anything but rather have succeeded despite the issues I faced and in that success (which I see) feel no need to degrade others for validation.

patricia · August-6th-2005, 10:29 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by HenryMc

Patricia

I hope that theory is a preposterous as the opposite: that those who have had loving families cant turn to violence. Sure studies show that a violent upbringing sometimes begets a cycle of violence but so does poverty, unemployment, and the lack of or failure of opportunity.

If I believed your theory I should have killed myself a long time ago as it is obvious the stain of the dysfunctional can never be washed away.

My point, I guess, is that we can transcend the pitfalls. I do agree we learn the lessons of life from our parents but this does not mean that we mimic them. The constant fear of the cycle of violence to which I refer is the understanding that, yes, I am bound by genetics and yes, it scares me that your theorymay be right.

I, for the record, have never hit a woman or a child prefering reason to any form of violence. Of course, that maybe because I dont feel I have failed in anything but rather have succeeded despite the issues I faced and in that success (which I see) feel no need to degrade others for validation.

I don't think that my theory is entirely preposterous, since I see evidence of people's upbringing all the time, if I know their family.
You are right that just being raised in a loving, non-violent home does not guarantee happiness in the future. But, being raised in one gives one an idea, even if it's not obvious, of how to be an adult. What we grow up with is what we think of as normal usually.
For example, when I watch my oldest daughter interact with her two year old son, she uses many of the same techniques for defusing dicey situations that I did with her and her younger sister. She doesn't spank him, or yell at him, or undermine his self-esteem. She controls her voice, offers alternatives and as a final solution removes him from the volatile surroundings.
I do understand what you're saying about not being like your father. But that is almost a result of his being a horrible example. Just as many men think that the man should be the boss, whatever it takes and that is what they take into their adult relationships. You realize that his way was wrong. Not everybody does.

tippy · August-6th-2005, 11:18 AM

That is an incredible history you wrote there, Henry. I do not believe it is a law that the abused always must end up as the abusers and I wouldn't, but said as a bystander here, be fearful, H, that some genetic or conditioned seed lies within you awaiting the proper moment--which could be any moment of your natural life--to jump out and attack. I believe I might be able to reconcile your and patricia's arguments by saying that "normal" is the operative word here. What do we, with or without having thought about it, think is a normal or acceptable way to behave, especially in crisis, or challenging moments where we might go on auto-pilot. I think self-awareness is the path by which we refute "normal" or usual behavior to condemn it as something horrible and unrepeatable unless we should wish to carry the sourest fruits of our life experience into the future. I consider having that kind of self-awareness a stroke of luck because I do have a sense of people who 'turn off,' are not present in certain situations that they find uncomfortable (this can be from the mundane to situations such as Henry described) and that reaction in people scares me because I know they are then completely unreachable. It is like their humanness leaves them and they are all instinct, without reason, very much like an animal.

Anyway, wasn't expecting to find this when I came on jc this a.m., so I hesitate to think out loud. I said as bystander I don't think you should fear your capabilities, but I don't mean to trivialize because the difference between me and your lived experience is that your lived experience was so reprehensible, horrible and painful that you would not under any circumstances put yourself perhaps in the position, or at least always be afraid that it might, that you could ever find yourself 'turning off' and moving automatically. Your fear though, in my mind, is the root of the problem--you don't trust yourself, and I think you should trust yourself and if you trust yourself then you would know that you can't and wouldn't act that way because you know ahead of time what could come and you won't do it. But, from your point of view, having been so humbled and in situations that defy artificial horror movies intended to strike fear where the unreal is made possible, you have lived a reality that you know is both possible and far worse so for you, it is more important to sacrifice your peace of mind, your trust in yourself, than that thinking 'never' would be the wedge to separate you from your oath to dispense the best you have to offer this world.

I know, as usual, I don't make sense unfortunately. But I am very moved all the same. We are all dual...the danger is the dualities we don't recognize in ourselves than the ones we do which have less power over us for having been revealed.

patricia · August-6th-2005, 12:19 PM

I agree with you, Tippy. Having a Dickensian childhood can either plunge one into hopelessness, which is the easiest and most familiar route, or be the catalyst for a strong determination that YOU are not going to carry on the destructive behaviour with which you grew up. It is truly up to each of us to be the sculptor or what we are to be.
It's easier if we had the example of a healthy happy family life earlier, but we are not doomed by genetics, or lack of nurturing. That is why being a parent should never be rote. Each day we parent, we mold the adults of the future. If we didn't learn it, automatically, by how we were raised, we just have to learn later. It's difficult, but not impossible.
There are negatives in everybody's family. Sometimes it's a crazy uncle, or an abusive cousin. We all have our share. But, when it's our parents, who are entrusted with our hard-wiring who are the problem, it's not easy to escape from what we know.
Those of us who have known Henry from his sensitive and humourous posts on JC, not to mention his amazing poetry, know him as a friend. Henry is a good man. He has managed, I think, to carve out his place and it is not a violent place. He is not carrying on his father's rabidness and I don't think he ever will. He sees it as the rotteness it was.
My own father was not abusive, but he was an alcoholic. My brothers all have to guard against crossing the line from social drinking, to alcohol abuse and I don't drink at all. I'm always afraid that alcoholism is genetic. So, we all have our fears. But, even though we can't change our pasts, we are the captains of our own ships.
Hang in there Henry. We can escape our pasts.

frankenmeister7 · August-6th-2005, 03:04 PM

Henry, isn't 4-7-11 one of Wilson Pickett's songs of the 60s?

somebody clue me in cause i love it and surely there is a rhyme to the beat.

Catharsis: also is drudging up that bad past that leaves scares that may never heal. then you have that excess baggage that you've sworn never to reveal to anyone.

i had at one time been to an old church in the south suburbs of Chicago and it just reminded me of the abuse that took place in one particular school that left me shaking to my bones.

those nuns weren't saintly in any way. one girl went to school that my cousin maria went to. this nun had a peculiar habit of taking her finger and jabbing in the back of the students who weren't as bright as her "pet" intellectual students.

or for that matter the stick or pointer that they used to point out things on a blackboard or map was used on the backs, and butts of the students.

when i recall all this now of the girl who is now my good friend, she had said that she was abused by a nun and it left marks so bad that she now has to talk to a counselor to ease the pain.

oh if only that good smell of oil that the church ladies would clean the pews with on Saturday's were used at my sisters church could bring some fond memories.

Henry's story is much more sorted i won't stray from the subject.

i do remember at recess in grade school, that at the corner store they still sold penny candy. if you can believe it. it was small pieces but they had these round suckers next to the tootsie rolls that brought back the taste of how long you could lick on it to see the center.

patricia · August-6th-2005, 03:12 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by frankenmeister7

Henry, isn't 4-7-11 one of Wilson Pickett's songs of the 60s?

somebody clue me in cause i love it and surely there is a rhyme to the beat.

No Frankie. 4711 is perhaps the oldest fragrance sold in British shops. My uncle worked in the patent office in London, years ago and was quite amused that the first ingredient is plain, ordinary water.

HenryMc · August-6th-2005, 06:17 PM

Thanks guys - I probably should have written about the 4711 and the first kiss - after all it was a far nicer experience!!

Monte Smith · August-6th-2005, 07:48 PM

Henry, that was a raw and open post. I can only imagine the catharsis it was for you, just as I can only imagine the pain you suffered in your childhood. I don't know if it matters, but to me it seems like I know who you are now, a little better, and I won't ever be able to look at the name Henry Mc on my computer screen and think of you as some faceless stranger, a name in pixels, but you'll always be a man who has my understanding and respect for surviving that and not disappearing into the darkness. I offer you, like a sometime denizen of this board, a hearty [CLASP] and a sincere one.

john williams · August-9th-2005, 12:56 AM

Henry: I don't think any post on JC has brought me as close to tears as your courageous one above.

I had a similar experience to you, which I won't describe here, except inasmuch as my father abuse my mother, sister and myself on a regular basis. Fortunately it didn't involve physical violence but a few of the quotes of your father were frighteningly similar to my father's.

I do believe I've escaped his grip and haven't spoken to him in about 12 years and don't have a clue where he lives. The one thing that's always terrified me is that i'd be like him if I ever married and had kids. Anyway, I'm 41 now and never married and there are no kids and I doubt there ever will be. My partner, Lilly, has two of her own and are just a few years off leaving the nest. Lilly can't have any more children and I must say with all honesty I'm relieved that children of my own will never be a part of the equation. My partner tells me I'm wonderful with her children as I'm quiet and gentle in contrast to their biological father who was a vicious and abusive character. Angus, the eldest, even accidently called me "dad" the other day which was a simple slip of the tongue but I know I've been more of a supportive father to him than his biological father has or ever will be.

I, like you Henry, have never been violent to anyone, let alone a partner or children and never believe I will be. In fact its my sister who has inherited more of my father's traits, though not violent, can have a surprisingly vicious tongue. I am far more like my mother. Though she too became an unwitting "co-conspirator" with my father.

Monte mentioned "disappearing into the dark". I couldn't have put it better as I came pretty close in my teens to late twenties when I was in a kind of seemingly inescapable limbo. My life only began to turn around after removing any trace of my father from my life. My experiences have taught me that no family member is ever worth that kind of abuse and it's far more healthy to hack them off like an infected limb. Lilly has an incredibly abusive sister, who's far nastier than my father could ever be. Recently Lilly has cut her sister out of her life completely and is much healthier and happier for it. I never encouraged her to do this but a counsellor said it was vital to regain her health and move forward.

Those from happier backgrounds won't understand this coldness, but then they've never lived through the hell of physical or psychological abuse from a parent or close family member. I disagree with Patricia that looking at the father of a prospective husband will necessarily be a guide to anything useful. Yes it's possible the son will be the same but it's equally as likely that he'll be far more sensitive and want to avoid an environment with even as much as a raised voice. I've chosen to live alone for most of my adult life for this very reason; peace.

HenryMc · August-9th-2005, 07:02 AM

JBW ...you're right its a search for peace and quiet some times. I think I take after my Mother too. I am positive that most of what was visited upon me was aimed at her. Children can be, for some, an easy and convenient target.

I think I was lucky in that soon after I turned 14 my Mother finally left my Father and we struggled through my teen years, she working to support and educate me while the family and priest turned on her for leaving. She saved a life by going - probably mine though I dont discount that I could have killed him in my teens if we had stayed. We were really poor when she left, he cut her off with out a penny and he stayed in the family home - I dont think I've experienced such poverty as Mum and I went through in those years.

If my father said I could never do anything, my poor old mum was the opposite, she believed fervently that I could do anything. She encouraged me in all things but never indulged me. She believed that we all have crosses to bear and would always reinforce my value. She was hard though believing that only through effort could one achieve and discouraged me wasting time whining about having it tough. We just got on with it. (Ironic isn't it, that here am I at 48 whining about having it tough!!)

claude · August-9th-2005, 08:40 AM

Sad story, but also inspiring in that you were able to become a decent person in spite of your father. I've had my family problems, different in the details from what you related but strangely similar in others. Both my parents are alive but I haven't seen them in over ten years, it's just easier that way. Sometimes I feel like I'm hiding from things but then I remember the reasons why I felt the need to break away and I leave it as it is. Thanks for bravely sharing your story Henry.

Chris D · August-9th-2005, 10:23 AM

Henry,
That took some guts to share. We had travails at our house thanks to my Dad's drink, and your story set off some echoes of recognition. I have to tell myself every day that I won't make the mistakes he did, although I'm like him in so many other ways.

Stay strong, brother.

jazzy mary · August-9th-2005, 10:24 AM

Wow, Henry! When I was reading your initial post I kept thinking "Good Lord, she must leave this man!". Thank God she did by the time you were 14. I think that is a critical part of the story and your recovery process. She was (is?) a courageous woman.

I'm dealing with some of that behaviour now too---not nearly so bad, But I have become a doormat who is afraid to stand up for myself or my kids because I don't want to deal with the fallout. Thank God, I am now taking steps to reclaim some control of the situation. Things will be so, so much better when I and my kids are free. And we don't have to deal with irrational, bizaare behaviour all the time.

Henry, we love you here and think you are wonderful. Just so you know...

patricia · August-9th-2005, 10:29 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by JBW

I disagree with Patricia that looking at the father of a prospective husband will necessarily be a guide to anything useful. Yes it's possible the son will be the same but it's equally as likely that he'll be far more sensitive and want to avoid an environment with even as much as a raised voice. I've chosen to live alone for most of my adult life for this very reason; peace.

JBW, what I said was, I think, that one's idea of "home" is hard-wired in childhood as normal. To suggest that this means that a man or a woman is doomed to repeat sick behaviour though is not what I meant. What I meant is that when a child from an abusive home grows up they are faced with a choice, as has been chronicled by you and by Henry not to follow the example of the abuser.
My point was how important a good example of family is to children parents are raising. Both my children are young adults, the oldest married, with a child of her own. Coincidentaly she is visiting now and I am astounded at how like me she is in her interaction with her little guy. She never raises her voice, or touches him in anger. Her husband is involved as an equal partner in parenting their child. They don't spare the hugs and encouragement and he shows affection to both of them, without reservation. Absolute knowledge that he is loved and valuable is palpable. The way that his mom and dad treat each other is already reflected in how he treats his little friends. It's actually eerie. I was reminded of an incident, when she was small when her father and I were engaged in a spirited discussion and she was afraid that we were fighting because I was talking more loudly and boistrously than I normally did. She was relieved when I reassured her that we were not angry. I hadn't realized that she was not familiar with that side of me.

If I gave the impression that nurturing, or in yours and Henry's case lack of nurturing dooms the children to repeat the toxic behaviour it was unintentional. But it is much more difficult to know what a healthy co-operative family life is if it was not part of a person's childhood.
It does take courage and a huge amount of effort to break away from what one knows to a completely different and more successful way of handling conflict if it is not a habit ingrained in childhood.
Again, that is why good parenting is so important to the next generation. Although we are all individuals, our families are, I think the blueprint for who we will be as adults. To tear up that blueprint and re-program our entire outlook on life is a challenge that everyone does not have the ability or the guts to do and I applaud you and Henry for choosing a different path.
It's not easy to choose to walk away from what one knows and in effect re-raise oneself.

john williams · August-9th-2005, 11:10 AM

Thanks Henry and Patricia for your responses.

Enforcer · August-9th-2005, 02:02 PM

Henry, I give you a lot of credit for sharing those tough memories. I don't think people are necessarily doomed to follow in the footsteps of their parents. Just the fact that you've chosen to be so responsible in showing concern for falling into that kind of behavior speaks volumes. You're a good man, my man.

Jazzzoline · August-9th-2005, 03:19 PM

Breaking the circle of violence is done by understanding the effects of the beating and abusing. Henry, you broke the circle.

Your father didn't break the circle probably because he didn't have what one needs to understand.

HenryMc · August-10th-2005, 10:14 AM

Thanks all

I posted this so others who might have had it less than ozzie and harriet could see they weren't alone. In what has been shared and in your graces I very much feel less alone.

Jazzy Mary - Mum left dad in 1970 - they had been together 25 years. The day we left I had one school uniform on and no other clothes to wear - she never went back. The priest at the parish told her the sanctity of marriage was precious and she should go back. I think he added 'for the children', the drunken old prick, for this child never wanted to go back. I remember he refusedher money from the poor box and clothes because leaving was a sin. We spent that first night in a bus shelter and i went to school next day. Mum went to work and somehow found a flat that day. Somehow we got some clothes together and I remember we didn't eat for about three days until her payday. I look back at those days and just get filled with admiration for my mum. She lost everything but never gave up.

She died many years ago now at 69. My father was younger than her and I remember thinking that it would be so unfair he he lived longer than she had. In the end he died aged 69 as well. My sisters wanted to bury them in adjoining plots!!! but I insisted she be as far away as possible fom him. I have no doubt she loved him (she never took off her wedding ring) but I knew her when she finally made the run she would never have gone back.

Let's hear it for an Irish Catholic background!!

claude · August-10th-2005, 10:21 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by HenryMc

Let's hear it for an Irish Catholic background!!

Are French Catholics allowed at the party?

john williams · August-10th-2005, 07:33 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by HenryMc

The priest at the parish told her the sanctity of marriage was precious and she should go back. I think he added 'for the children', the drunken old prick, for this child never wanted to go back.

Henry: My Mother had a similar, though protestant, experience and she did go back for another twenty years or so. My parents didn't eventually split until I was about 28. Mum's never been happier, though she went through a pretty dark period where she thought she's wasted 35 years of her life on that miserable shit and she also carried a lot of guilt for not leaving earlier.

jesus marion joseph · August-10th-2005, 09:20 PM

Coming late to this thread. Pretty heavy stuff. My steofather was abusive, but never physically hit any of us, prefering to take it out on inanimate objects instead. Scary enough to send us fleeing with what we could jam in a suitcase, staying with friends until my mother could find an apartment for us to live in (I had an older brother and younger sister at the time.)

Your situation sounds a lot worse than mine, though. Good on your mother for finally making the break.

HenryMc · August-10th-2005, 10:06 PM

claude - for you lets hear it for the French Catholic background too!!

kenny weir · August-11th-2005, 09:57 PM

Where to post? Here or the married thread? Ha ha.

As my family/relationship imploded in the past couple of years, it was truly frightening how my behavuiour and demeanour came to resemble that of my father. Not physically abusive, but misreable and mean and cranky and bitter.

Ironically, as it was she who pulled the plug and tossed me out (and rightly so - it was a volatile and untenable situation), she now regularly throws a "I'm waiting for my Kenny to tell me he wants me back" line at me.

Uh uh, no way. Not yet. Maybe never.

I fear that in terms of intimate relationships, I'm very much damaged goods, but am absolutlely LOVING in every which way being dad for our 4 1/2-year-old. What a freaking gas.

Great, moving posts here!

kenny weir · August-12th-2005, 12:13 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by patricia

I wonder, Kenny, if you agree with my contention that a great deal of how a man learns how to be a husband and a father is learned from their own father, or father-figure as a small child.

Maybe, but ...

In my own case, the transformation to father-like mode came as a result of insane pressures, quick romance, unexpected pregnancy, a mortgage far, far too big and, practically, only one income. We never had a chance.

Thus I'm inclned to think my reactions were perfectly natural, even if they took the shape they did on a genetic basis.

kenny weir · August-12th-2005, 01:14 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by patricia

That's what I meant. I meant the way you naturally handle stress.

Sorry, and I don't want to get into a contest here, but I find it extremely difficult to imagine we are talking about the same thing at all. Kinda hard to quantify, though.

patricia · August-12th-2005, 01:19 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by kenny weir

Sorry, and I don't want to get into a contest here, but I find it extremely difficult to imagine we are talking about the same thing at all. Kinda hard to quantify, though.

I was really interested in knowing what you thought. Not a contest at all.
I just thought I saw something familiar, but, obviously not. Sorry too.
I've deleted my posts. My mistake.

kenny weir · August-12th-2005, 02:04 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by patricia

I was really interested in knowing what you thought. Not a contest at all.
I just thought I saw something familiar, but, obviously not. Sorry too.
I've deleted my posts. My mistake.

No probs, Patrica. I guess what I was trying to say is that the word "stress" is a long, long way from being one I would use to describe my own situation. I like stress. I'm a newspaperman.

patricia · August-12th-2005, 02:41 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by kenny weir

No probs, Patrica. I guess what I was trying to say is that the word "stress" is a long, long way from being one I would use to describe my own situation. I like stress. I'm a newspaperman.

There are different kinds of stress. There is good, in fact essential stress that motivates us to achieve.
Then there is personal stress that either paralyzes us, or brings out surprising-to-us coping mechanisms.
Some people drink.
Other people need prescription, or other drugs.
Some people flail their arms and yell.
Others shut down and walk away, refusing to do anything at all.
I have no idea what other people recognize as bad stress and was simply attempting to understand.
I too am used to stress with my work involving deadlines, expectations, second-guessing by those who employ me.
That's not damaging. In fact, it's the esssential prod that keeps us doing our jobs and keeps us from sitting there, letting deadlines go by.