My Parents Were Kidnapped by Aliens!
I just wanted to write a quick something, knowing I've been more than remiss in my perpetually fatigued state of adjustment to the new sleep schedule and mornings. I can't dally, however, as my wonderful friend The Spunky Funky Triath-A-Mom is coming to visit and I will be spending all weekend laughing with one of the coolest womyn I've ever met in my life. This was her Christmas gift from her gusband, but I get wonderfully spoiled in the process-not only do I get a whole weekend with someone I love and miss dearly, but we will be staying together in what is evidently the world's smallest hotel room (which means it will still be bigger than my apartment) and I get tickets to go see Sweeney Todd! Of course this is someone who could make being trapped in an elevator seem like a fun vacation, so it really doesn't matter where we are.
My biggest news of late is that my parents have been kidnapped by aliens and replaced with these odd facsimiles who are undyingly supportive all of a sudden! Not that they are horrible parents normally, but let's just say that when I fuck up they're not ones to easily dismiss it.
I was dreading having the conversation with my father wherein I confessed my horrendous financial quagmire, but it was a necessary evil for both maintaining an open honest relationship and for being able to sell my mutual funds (graduate school money since college was free), which do not pay off the debt entirely but knock out a huge chunk of it. After much thought, I found this to be a much smarter solution than paying about twice what I owe once the exhorbitant interest rates of debt consolidation companies is factored in, despite the fact that it involved the terrifying spectre of my father holding this over my head for years to come and berating me for being so irresponsible and idiotic until I melted away into a puddle of what once was a tiny modicum of self respect. This fear was not merely exaggeration; it was founded in past experience, which explains much in my regards to be rather harsh on myself.
But this new alien father did not berate me or call me stupid (well, perhaps once, but that's nothing in comparison to my fears). This new alien father was wonderful and supportive and basically told me that I made my own bed and now will be lying in it, but that it sounded like I knew that already and was already making the necessary lifestyle changes so there really wasn't anything he could tell me except to sell the funds, continue paying off the remainder of the debt and learn my damn lesson. I was shocked to my very core. I confessed my great fear in having the conversation, and this stranger on the telephone went even further to say that if he had berated me in the past for mistakes made that he was very sorry and very very wrong to do so; he said that it most likely came from a fear that when his children screwed up in meant that he screwed up and that now he knows and understands that children are not an extension of you, but individuals completely separate from the parents.
What?? That sounded like both an apology and an expression/explanation of feelings! Impossible!
But yes, yes indeed it was. He then went on to talk a little about my brother and his feelings of responsibility he had to get over there. Wow. This is the same man who told me about a year ago that he only discussed feelings with the dog - and the dog had been dead for a few months at that point!
This alien father continued on to instruct me to stop feeling badly for having screwed up; that what was important was that I was doing something about it and to turn the page and just learn from it but move forward. The surreal supportive and oh-so-loving and perfect words just kept spewing forth from the lips of this alien father like coins from a Vegas slot machine finally rewarding the little old lady that has waited patiently all day pulling the lever in sad desperation and wearing a very bright flowered mumu. I was in tears by the end of the conversation. Gone was the fearsome spectre of the overly critical perfectionist and in its place was the supportive father I had always wanted; the one who could believe in me and make me believe in myself in the process.
If I didn't know better, I would swear my father had been sneaking in a little therapy on the side. Really. It was that level of healthy productive and loving interaction.
The next day I phoned my mother and talked to her for over an hour; she was not only incredibly supportive (she of the infamous "Oh Synge!" exclamations, with the insane ability to twist any innocous comment to put me at fault for something), but we also covered a broad territory of topics that needed to be discussed but were perpetually avoided. We talked very honestly and very in depth about my brother and his suicide, the sometimes taboo subject, and the many complicated issues involved therein. And again, she was nothing but loving and supportive. My mother and I healed our relationship long ago, and while I expect this from her more than from my father, it still seemed above and beyond the usual.
So, yes. My parents have indeed been kidnapped by aliens, but I am so thankful for the replacements they left behind...the realtionship with these two people has grown by such leaps and bounds since I began seeing Lady Charon. I'm sure a large part is my behavior that has changed as well, but still I see the huge amount of work they have out into this, and it is ever so healing. I am infintely lucky.
And that was so not the brief posting I meant to write. Now I must scramble to bathe, lest I arrive at the airport as the smelly girl.
My biggest news of late is that my parents have been kidnapped by aliens and replaced with these odd facsimiles who are undyingly supportive all of a sudden! Not that they are horrible parents normally, but let's just say that when I fuck up they're not ones to easily dismiss it.
I was dreading having the conversation with my father wherein I confessed my horrendous financial quagmire, but it was a necessary evil for both maintaining an open honest relationship and for being able to sell my mutual funds (graduate school money since college was free), which do not pay off the debt entirely but knock out a huge chunk of it. After much thought, I found this to be a much smarter solution than paying about twice what I owe once the exhorbitant interest rates of debt consolidation companies is factored in, despite the fact that it involved the terrifying spectre of my father holding this over my head for years to come and berating me for being so irresponsible and idiotic until I melted away into a puddle of what once was a tiny modicum of self respect. This fear was not merely exaggeration; it was founded in past experience, which explains much in my regards to be rather harsh on myself.
But this new alien father did not berate me or call me stupid (well, perhaps once, but that's nothing in comparison to my fears). This new alien father was wonderful and supportive and basically told me that I made my own bed and now will be lying in it, but that it sounded like I knew that already and was already making the necessary lifestyle changes so there really wasn't anything he could tell me except to sell the funds, continue paying off the remainder of the debt and learn my damn lesson. I was shocked to my very core. I confessed my great fear in having the conversation, and this stranger on the telephone went even further to say that if he had berated me in the past for mistakes made that he was very sorry and very very wrong to do so; he said that it most likely came from a fear that when his children screwed up in meant that he screwed up and that now he knows and understands that children are not an extension of you, but individuals completely separate from the parents.
What?? That sounded like both an apology and an expression/explanation of feelings! Impossible!
But yes, yes indeed it was. He then went on to talk a little about my brother and his feelings of responsibility he had to get over there. Wow. This is the same man who told me about a year ago that he only discussed feelings with the dog - and the dog had been dead for a few months at that point!
This alien father continued on to instruct me to stop feeling badly for having screwed up; that what was important was that I was doing something about it and to turn the page and just learn from it but move forward. The surreal supportive and oh-so-loving and perfect words just kept spewing forth from the lips of this alien father like coins from a Vegas slot machine finally rewarding the little old lady that has waited patiently all day pulling the lever in sad desperation and wearing a very bright flowered mumu. I was in tears by the end of the conversation. Gone was the fearsome spectre of the overly critical perfectionist and in its place was the supportive father I had always wanted; the one who could believe in me and make me believe in myself in the process.
If I didn't know better, I would swear my father had been sneaking in a little therapy on the side. Really. It was that level of healthy productive and loving interaction.
The next day I phoned my mother and talked to her for over an hour; she was not only incredibly supportive (she of the infamous "Oh Synge!" exclamations, with the insane ability to twist any innocous comment to put me at fault for something), but we also covered a broad territory of topics that needed to be discussed but were perpetually avoided. We talked very honestly and very in depth about my brother and his suicide, the sometimes taboo subject, and the many complicated issues involved therein. And again, she was nothing but loving and supportive. My mother and I healed our relationship long ago, and while I expect this from her more than from my father, it still seemed above and beyond the usual.
So, yes. My parents have indeed been kidnapped by aliens, but I am so thankful for the replacements they left behind...the realtionship with these two people has grown by such leaps and bounds since I began seeing Lady Charon. I'm sure a large part is my behavior that has changed as well, but still I see the huge amount of work they have out into this, and it is ever so healing. I am infintely lucky.
And that was so not the brief posting I meant to write. Now I must scramble to bathe, lest I arrive at the airport as the smelly girl.
posted by Le Synge Bleu at 10:25 AM
4 Comments:
Hooray for secret therapy!
absolutely amazing.
hope you had a fantastic weekend. i'll be waiting to hear what you think of sweeney todd.
I wish my dad would have gone threw whatever therapy or abduction your dad did. WOW!
I hope you had a great weekend.
Good Stuff. Sounds like you are bouncing back. Kudos!
Post a Comment
<< Home