ill of the dead” may be a treasured platitude, but it often inhibits the realistic resolution of conflicts with dead parents.
“Y OU’LL A LWAYS B E M Y L ITTLE F AILURE ”
Valerie, a tall, delicate-featured musician in her late thirties, was referred to me by a mutual friend who was concerned that Valerie’s lack of confidence was preventing her from pursuing opportunities in her singing career. About fifteen minutes into our first session, Valerie admitted that her career was going nowhere:
I haven’t had any kind of a singing job—not even a piano bar—for over a year. I’ve been working temp in an office to pay my rent. I don’t know. Maybe it’s an impossible dream. The other night I was having dinner with my folks, and we got into my problems, and my father said, “Don’t worry. You’ll always be my little failure.” I’m sure he didn’t realize how much it hurt, but those words really tore me apart.
I told Valerie that anyone would feel hurt under the circumstances. Her father had been cruel and insulting. She replied:
I guess that’s nothing new. It’s the story of my life. I was the family garbage dump. I got blamed for everything. If he and my mom had problems, it was my fault. He was like a broken record. And yet, when I did anything to please him, he would beam with pride and brag about me to his cronies. God, it was wonderful to get his approval, but I felt like an emotional yo-yo sometimes.
Valerie and I worked very closely together over the next several weeks. She was just beginning to contact the magnitude of her anger and sadness toward her father.
Then he died of a stroke.
It was an unexpected death—shocking, sudden; the kind for which no one is prepared. Valerie was overwhelmed by guilt for all the anger she had expressed toward him in therapy.
I sat there in church while he was being eulogized and I heard this outpouring of how wonderful he was all his life, and I felt like I was being an asshole for trying to blame him for my own problems. I just wanted to atone for the pain I’d caused him. I kept thinking about how much I loved him and what a bitch I’d always been to him. I don’t want to talk about the bad stuff anymore . . . none of that matters now.
Valerie’s grief got her off the track for a time, but eventually she came to see that her father’s death could not change the reality of how he had treated her during childhood and as an adult.
Valerie has been in therapy for almost six months now. I’ve been happy to see her self-confidence improve steadily. She is still struggling to get her singing career off the ground, but it’s no longer due to lack of trying.
Taking Them Down Off Their Pedestals
Godlike parents make rules, make judgments, and make pain. When you deify your parents, living or dead, you are agreeing to live by their version of reality. You are accepting painful feelings as a part of your life, perhaps even rationalizing them as being good for you. It’s time to stop.
When you bring your toxic parents down to earth, when you find the courage to look at them realistically, you can begin to equalize the power in your relationship with them.
2 | “Just Because You Didn’t Mean It Doesn’t Mean It Didn’t Hurt”
The Inadequate Parents
C hildren have basic inalienable rights—to be fed, clothed, sheltered, and protected. But along with these physical rights, they have the right to be nurtured emotionally, to have their feelings respected, and to be treated in ways that allow them to develop a sense of self-worth.
Children also have the right to be guided by appropriate parental limits on their behavior, to make mistakes, and to be disciplined without being physically or emotionally abused.
Finally, children have a right to be children. They have a right to spend their early years being playful, spontaneous, and irresponsible. Naturally, as children grow older, loving parents will nourish their maturity by giving them certain
Maggie Ryan, Blushing Books