Mother's Day 2013 is not Today

I thought today was Mother's Day. But I am going to leave this up because I am obviously a week off and am thinking of the mothers today.

 It's a windy and rainy day here. Most likely if the mothers were still alive, we would have them here, sitting in front of a fire and fixing them lunch and dinner.  Then we would give them a few presents. My mother liked pretty things, while my MIL liked practical things.  No mothers are around anymore for us.

I can look back and remember them so well when they were bustling about and not infirm, crippled by age and illness.  Sometimes, flashbacks happen, and I am transported back to when my mother would read to me, take me on scientific collecting trips, help me with homework, and console me when I was anxious about something.  Or she will come to me in dreams, in which I am helping her.  I can recall her in those moments as if she never left.

With my MIL dying so recently, I have thought many times of her over the past two months.  I see so many things that she did for her daughter.  Her pressed tablecloths are still in the linen closet, wrapped in wax paper.  Nearly everyday, we come across something that reminds us of her.  And yet, the sadness of loss is being replaced with wistful thoughts of what used to be.

The loss of parents is a reminder of my own aging which I have been feeling more and more of late.  I can still physically do a lot, but I have a sense that the days are slipping by too quickly.  I am considered middle aged now.  I saw what aging did to my parents and has done to my in-laws.  Thankfully, my parents died suddenly without a prolonged illness.  My MIL and FIL were not so lucky.

I don't feel like giving in to aging but realize that the things I used to do all day cause me to ache some now.  I gave up running because it began to hurt too much.  And I have more of a desire to simply relax now and not push myself to do more.  I am certainly conscious of my age.  I understand now when my mother told me that she still felt as if she were 25 on the inside.  But for me, there are days that I feel my age on the inside too.

So today I'm wishing for all the mothers that there is some happiness in knowing that you are loved. Inside the core of every child, there is a bond with the one who gave us life, no matter what the actions or words of the child may be. I hope that you enjoy your day, do something good for yourself, and realize that you are a very special person.

“But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begin.” ― Mitch Albom

For fathers

I'm not sure what those of you who are dads are doing today, but I hope that it is a good day. Funny that I don't remember much about how I honored my father. I know that I made cards for him, just as I did for my mother. I also gave him presents when I was older. Things like slippers, a tie, or a shirt. I just don't remember anything else that was special about those father's day activities.

I think that my father would relax on Father's Day.  Maybe he thought about his father, although he never talked about him.  He was a man who didn't speak of things in an emotional way.  

In spite of the painful times that I had around his drinking and his criticism, I loved him. He was a good provider and he taught me a love for the water and living things. He grew up on a farm and went to sea as a young man out of high school. He decided that the mariner's life wasn't for him though after he fell in love with my mother. My father liked poetry and had this soft compassionate inside that he didn't project on the outside. It was there though when he would cry over the loss of his sister who died an alcoholic or when an animal that he loved would die. He just didn't let that side of him out very often. Maybe it was his generation or maybe it was the fear that blocked him. I know now that it wasn't about me.

Regret has a way of sneaking up on you. The Big Book says that you won't regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. And I know that I can't relive anything from the past now. But I have those moments when I wish that I could have told my father that I loved him more. All the gifts and cards don't really amount to much when it's the words that really convey the meaning.

So hopefully the father that you are or those in your life know love and will find joy in the day. It's never too late to tell your dad something special or to be something special for your child.

Men are victims too

"Men too are victims and women too are perpetrators; neither sex has a monopoly of vice or virtue" (David Thomas)

I read Mary's post about abuse .  It made me wonder about gender stereotyping when it comes to abuse.  I have lived a life that is relatively free from violence.  I didn't have beatings when I was a child (my father did hit me with his belt once). My father and mother didn't fight.  But there was an incident when I was a teenager in which my father did hit me and I hit him back.  The only incident that has stuck with me was when I witnessed the result of one woman severely beaten by her drunken husband.  It was a frightening and horrific thing.

But Mary's post made me wonder about the other side of the coin in which men are abused.  I don't believe that any one sex has a monopoly on abuse.  Believing that all men are bad makes about as much sense as saying that all black people are ignorant, all women are weak, and all gays are sick.  These are general stereotypes that unfairly put people into categories that rob them of their individuality and basic dignity.  (Please note here that no where in her post did Mary claim that men were bad, evil or totally violent. I am simply wondering about "abuse" and what it may mean if one is a man and on the receiving end).

I know that abuse may take on several forms.  It may be emotional, psychological, physical and spiritual.  There are people in every part of the world, in all types of families and backgrounds who have been damaged by some form of abuse. And men just like women make up a huge percentage of that abuse.

I have been acutely aware for many years how much power men wield.  There is great inequality when it comes to pay and power.  But this comes with a price.  Men are told from a young age that they have to be the protector, provider, authoritarian, and enforcer.  I heard from my father to "buck up", "don't be a sissy", and to not express my emotions: "Don't cry. That's ridiculous." 

I now realize that those things were a reflection of what he had been told.  They couldn't be further from the truth, yet when repeated over time did cause me to be detached from my feelings.  I learned to hide my tears and to put on an appearance of being strong for everyone.

I was taught throughout my youth to respect all people.  It never occurred to me that a woman could be capable of physical abuse.  Yet, the first time it occurred I was stunned. Who do you tell? It's not a situation where you go to your group of friends and tell them that a woman became so enraged that she was physically abusive.  Do you tell them that she made me cry?  It wasn't thinkable at the time.  So I just stood (or sat) there and absorbed it.  Eventually, I had enough and walked away. 

I have talked to men who don't know how to feel emotionally.  They are very fearful of being perceived as weak.  And because of this they are accused by their partners of being emotionally distant.  But there is a link between the messages that little boys and men get on being strong regardless, and how this conditioning does great harm.

Let me assure you that men hurt too.  The emotions of fear, shame, guilt, and anger are similar, if not identical,  to those of women.  The same character defects that I have were also owned by my wife. There is a major difference though: many men keep their emotions hidden away and stuffed, unless they have been fortunate enough to understand that this is unhealthy and destructive.  I meet men in Al-Anon who are still hurting and who have not yet moved beyond the emotional pain of their past and the restrictive parental messages to a freer and more spiritually fit self.

Being the victim of any type of abuse is painful and difficult to overcome.  There is a lot of denial. The cycle of abuse, especially if it takes place over several years, can make the victim feel powerless and very fearful of change.  It is easy to believe that it is your fault.

It isn't so simple for a man to report abuse.  Men are much less likely than women to talk about domestic abuse to friends and family.  Here are some things that I found:

•  research suggests men are 5 times less likely to report abuse
• In general, only 1-2% of men who are assaulted by their female partners are likely to report the abuse to the police or outside agency
• Men contend with sexist stereotypes when it comes to reporting abuse.  They are thought of as weak and pathetic. 
• Men often don't have the social networks in place to easily tell friends what is happening. It's not easy to sit next to another man and tell him that you are being slapped around by your partner. 
• Men may feel isolated and unsupported, feeling alone and that there is no way out of breaking their silence about abuse.
• Although legally domestic violence laws are largely gender-neutral, that does not mean that attitudes are.

So I wanted to raise a bit of awareness here and offer another side to a very tragic picture.

Tangled up and bearing a load

Thanks for your comments yesterday. It has been an interesting 24 hours. I've gone from feeling sad and reflective to having moments of pure joy.

Today I feel a bit used up. Like the photo shows, I am tangled up in my own thinking and bearing a load that I need help carrying.

Suffice to say that my own character defects have been pointed out to me and that I am smarting from being called controlling. Maybe that's what I am. I know that I have a real fear of rejection. So maybe underneath it all, I do want certain things to happen or have certain expectations, and have trust issues.

It just bugs me when my own defects are pointed out while the alcoholic does not acknowledge her own defects. I realize that as hard as I try, there are still some expectations that creep into this relationship.

That seems to be particularly true when things have been going so well for a while. I let my guard down and feel so much love. That's when it seems that I forget that placing so much love on another can be a burden for them. And maybe the love becomes a box.

I'm willing to concede that I make slips. That's why I need Al-Anon and continue to go to a lot of meetings. I am working on changing a behavior that has deep roots. But I also wonder at whether the controlling is all me. Sometimes it seems that there is also controlling that is done in a relationship through defensive behavior or through evasive actions.

I've read that couples can become locked in a power struggle that is reminiscent of a parent/child interaction. One person may be the child and the other the critical parent. If the childlike behavior occurs, then the other half will respond as the critical parent. And by acting like the parent, then the other half will act out more as the spoiled child. Once again, here is where it becomes important for each person to take responsibility for their sides in this. And to effect change by stop trying to change each other and change yourself.

These are some heavy musings for today. It just makes me realize how much further there is to go in working on myself. And in letting go of the other person.

Things my father taught me

"It is a wise father that knows his own child." -- William Shakespeare

It's Father's Day today. My father died in 1985. I think of him often, but there's something about Father's Day that was special when he was alive and is still special today. For me, it was always a way to say "Thank you" to a man that I both loved and feared. I would make him a card with my crayons when I was a kid and later would give him a card and a present.

My father was a man of few words and didn't talk about feelings. We didn't have those fatherly chats that I've read about. But I learned a number of things from him that I am thankful for. I want to share some of those with you on this Father's Day.

My father taught me how to care for a large vegetable garden growing in the backyard. He loved to grow vegetables. He would till up the soil, plant tomatoes, beans, corn, and strawberries. I would help him put the seeds in the ground. It was my job thereafter to weed and water the plants. From doing this I learned responsibility.

My father taught me how to fish and feel at home on the water. He was quite a fisherman. He always had a boat, and we would get up early to be able to hit the water on the last of ebb tide. He showed me how to bait my hook, wait for the fish to bite and then set the hook. My father taught me how to run the boat and to watch the signs that the water gave that shoals were ahead. From watching and waiting for fish and tide I learned patience.

My father taught me about monetary values. I was given a weekly allowance but was not allowed to spend it freely. I was told to put some of it aside so that it would accumulate into a larger sum. I was taught to think about what I spent money on and to not buy things that wouldn't last. My father would not loan money to others, but he would loan tools and give away fish and vegetables to neighbors and friends. From this, I learned appreciation of what I had, and about charity.

My father taught me to tell the truth. He had a suspicion that I was taking his cigarettes and smoking them with my cousin when I was around 7 years old. He asked me if I had stolen them and was smoking. I told him that I had. He lectured me but told me that I did right by telling the truth because my punishment would have been worse had I not. He told me that he couldnt' stand a liar. From him, I learned about honesty.

My father taught me that actions speak louder than words. He wasn't a "windbag". He would listen to what others had to say and then make his own decisions. He said that there were a lot of people who could talk their way out of anything but it was their deeds that were important. I learned the importance of doing.

My father taught me to care for animals and to love them. The few times I saw him cry were when an animal died or was hurt. He once took my cat to the medical doctor to get a fish hook out of her mouth. There was no vet in town at the time. "Mama cat" became a star and was written up in the local paper. From him, I learned about empathy.

My father taught me to stand up for myself. He never let people walk all over him. And he wasn't afraid to speak his mind if provoked. He didn't like injustice to people or animals. He didn't look down on people but treated everyone he met fairly, unless they proved to be unfair. From him, I learned about fairness.

And I know that there were many other life lessons that I learned from my father. All of these things he taught me have shaped me. The lessons that we learn as children color our life. I hope that the fathers out there realize the importance of that.

Happy Birthday Mother

Today is my mother's birthday. She died peacefully at age 96 in 2005. Last year I posted a lot about her on this blog. I'm not going to repeat that here.

I know that the journey we had together was a good one. Our relationship was based on respect and unconditional love. Even though my mother isn't with me today, I remember her smile, her laugh, her wisdom, her intellect and her love.

Thinking about what makes us who we are

After last night's meeting, I've done a lot of thinking about the actions that we display and how they may benefit or detract depending upon the true intent. The lady who shared her story last night did it bravely and with much feeling. There was a lot of pain expressed. I could feel the level of disappointment over being let down once again by promises that couldn't be kept. The alcoholic is unreliable and it's best for each of us to never forget that. But we also are unreliable because our emotions can take a downward spiral at any moment.

I don't think that I was truly prepared for the intensity of the meeting last night. I had been riding my own little wave of good feelings, and yet I knew that the pending departure of someone I love was weighing heavily on my mind. In short, I feel grief and a great loss. When I first got to the meeting, I could feel my level of anxiety increase. This group is one that I consider my home group since it's where I started. However, there have been some dynamics within the group that put me ill at ease. Nonetheless, I shirked that off and became absorbed in the lady's story. At one particular emotional moment, her sponsor got up and went over to hug her tightly. I wondered at this as it seemed that she needed to get out the emotions and didn't need the distraction at that moment. Then at the end when all was over, her sponsor spoke up and said some things that I found detracted from the story and basically stole the power of the lady who shared her story.

I've seen this happen in this group before. There is one person who dominates the group. I've managed to get past most of it but there have been moments when I've felt defensive and disgusted. It's important to have Al-Anon not be dominated or controlled by any one person. Everyone's sharing is important and worthy and should be done without concern of approval or negative comment. I know that the one person who dominates does so out of a need for control and attention. However, that need isn't something that I choose to nurture or accept. I dealt with parental messages and criticism when growing up and it isn't something that I want to hear in an Al-Anon meeting. Going to an Al-Anon meeting shouldn't create anxiety but lessen it. I've given some thought to actually not sharing on my anniversary date but going to another group instead where there is much more freedom and serenity. I don't like to not face difficult situations but I have to do what I need to do to feel comfortable.