To my father, and to every alienator

I know that no one is born revengeful or angry. I believe that people enter life as love. I know that you were abused by your father, who was likely abused by his and so on. I know that his words probably did more damage than his fist- the way he told you that you were worthless, incapable, nothing. He didn’t see you, not really. He told you a lie.

I know that he abused your mother, my grandmother. She told me about the time when you were a teen and had enough of his wrath. The time, the hundredth time, he banged his fist and stood up at the dinner table; something trivial triggered his rage and when he leaned toward your mother, you stood to protect her.  You ran to grab the ax used for cutting wood and told him no more. He sat back down. You drew a line that day.

But you drew a line over your heart too. The line says I will love this much but no more. I will feel this much but no more. It reasons, this line you’ve drawn, that you did your best to love my mother and she rejected you. Your best was sometimes cold, sometimes demeaning, but it was better than what you knew. The line says you will not feel sadness. You mustn’t. You will not grieve.

The line says you will feel this but not that. Anger but not grief. Rage but not compassion.  I was not allowed to grieve either, when you cast my mother out.  Your actions were cut off from your heart, your spirit. Even your supposed love for me could not lift you above this rage, this protection you had built for yourself. You had to win. Win at hurting. Win at all costs.

I was expected to put the same line over my heart, a line that says I will not love my mother. I will let her go. And the cost was great, much greater than your ego knows. Your ego thinks you won; it even thinks I won, for I have you, the superior one.

But your spirit knows you have lost. The choices you made were from wounds and from fear, and not from love, not from love at all, despite what you have convinced yourself.

Love does not do this.

You may never own this, not before your death anyway. You sense that if you did, you would feel a pain much greater than your father’s fist. Greater than his cutting words. Greater than the pain of rejection. You would feel a pain as searing as an ax through the heart. To face what you have done would mean facing all your wounds. It would render you vulnerable. But in letting it break your heart, you would find your spirit again. If you only knew  what you stand to gain. If you did face the truth, in some moment of stillness, by some miracle, and let the pain of this truth wash over you, then you would be living. You would be real again. I believe in miracles.

For now, my father, and Every Alienator, you are existing in a swath of protection, in a lie that tells you that you have won, that you are right. But that lie is fragile, weak and thin, and it covers your heart where the truth resides. That is what you don’t know; you don’t know the cost of winning.

I take comfort in knowing the truth. I have suffered great blows to my sense of self, but I love that I am a truth seeker. I am grateful that I am strong enough to face what is real. I grew up afraid of you because I didn’t know then how weak and scared you really are. If you allow yourself to break apart, to see the truth, I will not say I told you so.

Someday, maybe not in this lifetime, I will see the real you and I will recognize you as love.

Advertisements

7 thoughts on “To my father, and to every alienator

  1. I admire the way you have found some sympathy for your father’s choices and actions, and I think you nailed it. Sadly, there are a lot of men like this, I think. I know that my own husband is a very kind, loving person, but he had a lot of trauma in his childhood and he is unable to dig deeper with his own emotions. At a certain point he just closes off, because he can’t cope with the pain that lies below the surface. I think that between us though, we’ve raised sons who aren’t afraid of their feelings and I’m glad about that.
    At the same time that I like how you are willing to look at *why* your father did this, I can also imagine it’s been very hard to come to a place of forgiveness. It’s a terrible thing, what he did. No child should be expected to stop loving their mother.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Reblogged this on PARENTS HEALING FROM ESTRANGEMENT and commented:
    How beautifully written from the heart
    “For now, my father, and every alienator, you are existing in a swath of protection, in a lie that tells you that you have won, that you are right. But that lie is fragile and weak and thin, and it covers your heart where the truth resides. That is what you don’t know; you don’t know the cost of being right, of winning.

    I take comfort in knowing the truth. I have suffered great blows to my sense of self, but I love that I am a truth seeker. I am grateful that I am strong enough to face what is real.

    I grew up afraid of you because I didn’t know then how weak and scared you really are. If you allow yourself to break apart, to see the truth, I will not say I told you so. Someday, maybe not in this lifetime, I will see the real you and I will recognize you as love.”
    I am sure there are many of us out there that know an alienator similar to this – thank you for speaking your truth

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s