To Dad On Mother’s Day

I’ll never send this, because he’ll never understand, but I had to write it anyway.

Dear Dad,

When I called Mom today to wish her a happy Mother’s Day, she told me what happened when you asked her what she wanted to do. I know she’s not your mother and it’s not really your responsibility to make her Mother’s Day special, but it broke my heart to hear you left her in tears again. I know she’s sensitive and easily offended, but she deserved to be treated better than that, especially today. What bothers me more is it’s not the first time this has happened, and I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I am more than a little concerned, and have been for a long time now.

You know I love you, right? From my earliest memories of sitting on your knee in church, to following you around as you fixed the car, chopped wood and remodeled the kitchen, you have been central to the forming of my relationships with all men. You have always treated me as though I were important to you, championing my successes and commiserating with me in loss. Whether you knew it or not, I often overheard you bragging about me and my latest accomplishment, and it always made me feel like a million bucks. I worked hard to earn that praise and you might be surprised to know the prospect of that prize was often my motivation for excelling. Your approval has always been important to me.

But you and I both know that when we disagree on the important things, I have no trouble risking your disapproval in order to exercise my independence. I credit both you and Mom for instilling in me the tenacity that drives me to be true to my own principles whatever the cost. Unfortunately our mutual stubbornness and tendency to emotional outbursts has sometimes driven that cost far too high, robbing us of precious days and years wherein neither of us would give in. I don’t bring that up to cause you pain, but to remind you of how empty our lives can be when the ones we love leave us.

I am growing increasingly concerned about the things I see and hear regarding you these last few years. Gone is the father who used to laugh at our jokes, take us on adventures, and tackle our science projects with enthusiasm. What I see in his place is an angry, withdrawn shadow of a man who takes little interest in his job, his life and his loved ones. I recognize this in you because I have seen it in myself, and have struggled for years to understand where it came from and what to do with it. Now that I am beginning to grasp the source of that misery I want to share what I’ve learned in the hope that you too will make the decision to confront your shadows before they ruin your life.

You and I have always been a lot alike, and I used to pride myself in that. I learned my work ethic from you, one that has gained me praise and promotions throughout my adult life. Your teaching and encouragement have inspired my self-confidence, my sense of adventure and my enthusiasm for new challenges. But I have also inherited from you some things that aren’t so good. You and I are both stubborn, easily angered, moody, judgmental and unforgiving of those who don’t live up to our sometimes unrealistic standards. But the difference between us is I’m not willing to let those things go untreated. I’ve always been more critical of myself than anyone else, especially regarding those flaws we share. For years I despaired of ever taming them, and they were making it very difficult for me to have healthy fulfilling relationships with other people.

So I got help. One day my boss made me so mad I almost punched him, which would’ve ended my career and probably put me in legal hot water. I knew my response was out of control, so I went to someone who could help me understand and perhaps treat it. I have been in therapy now for almost four months, and I’ve learned that while it’s normal to feel those emotions and impulses, acting on them is absolutely unacceptable. It’s that simple. It is not okay for a grown person to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. It’s not normal to stay in the house in front of the TV all night every night. And it is absolutely impossible to have loving relationships with people you treat with contempt and disrespect, even if you’re related to them.

Dad, I need you to understand the impact your actions have on me. I often feel like I have to walk on eggshells around you for fear I’ll commit some trivial offense that will send you into a temper, and it saddens me to see you pulling your little world in around you as if you’re so offended at it that you’re going to take your toys and go home. News flash, Dad – the world isn’t here to please you, and it’s never, ever going to. You cannot control anyone or anything outside yourself, and it’s your inability or unwillingness to do so that has me considering drastic measures in our relationship. The last time I put distance between us it was because I wanted to drive home the point that I was my own person with my own life. This time I consider doing so for my own sanity and peace of mind. Anger and despair are contagious, and I’ve already dealt with my fair share, so I want to limit the impact yours has on me.

I need you to consider getting help as I did, because I don’t think you can be humanly expected to do it on your own. I couldn’t, and as hard as it was to admit, I will tell you without a doubt that reaching out to someone who could help me was the best thing I ever did for myself and for my future. I don’t want to turn out bitter and critical and mean like your mom, and I am afraid you’re headed down the same path. If you care about us, if you want partake in our lives in a meaningful way in the future, you’ll do whatever you have to in order to stop that progression. I don’t know if you realize that you can’t hang on to your bitterness, despair and anger and still have a happy, loving relationship with your family. Something has to give, because I for one cannot continue to expose myself to the darkness you carry in you, and that I’ve worked so hard to escape. The only other option left to me is to distance myself, to not come home and to not let you into my life, and I don’t want to do that again. I need a father. I need someone to walk me down the aisle, teach my son how to shoot a bow and arrow, and give wise advice from his years of experience. But if I can’t trust you to do that without angry outbursts, unfair criticism and contempt for the people you love, what else am I to do?

I know you love us, Dad. You wouldn’t have made the sacrifices you did or worked so hard to raise a happy family if you didn’t. I love you for that and for so much more, and that’s why I’m begging you to do something about your anger and sadness before it ruins what you’ve worked so hard and so long to achieve. You deserve to be happy and fulfilled, Mom deserves a husband who treats her with respect and kindness, and your kids and grandkids deserve someone they can look up to for an example of what it means to love and be loved. Don’t you want that? We do.

I hope you think about these things. If you want to talk, I think I might be a better listener than you think.

I love you.

Love,
Me

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