Who knows what goes on in other people's minds. I had temper issues too. I'd break my mother's things just to get back at her. She traumatised me when I was a kid because she wouldn't listen to what doctors or other health professional told her. She didn't believe I had any 'issues' other than sheer laziness and wilfulness.
When I left home, I told her to go f*ck herself and that I'd never see her again. I do see her. But no more than twice a year. We are not good together and I think she visits more out of a sense of guilt than anything. I think she also knows that she pushed both of her children away. Neither of us see her much and she lives alone, which she hates.
But I don't hate her any more. Not like I did. She had and still has her own problems which she has never bothered to sort out. I reserve any hatred for my dad. As a child, he suffered from the same emotional problems I had. When my mother terrorised me about them, he'd stand and watch and do absolutely nothing. The word dysfunctional describes my family perfectly.
My hatred for both of my parents has diminished, though I doubt I'll have a desire to see my dad again. They were totally unsuited to each other and utterly devoid of the necessary skills. My mother told us stories about her idyllic childhood. That, it is becoming increasingly clear, was a series of lies. My dad's background was also one of emotional and physical abuse - which he kept totally hidden from us. It's like Philip Larkin says:
This Be The Verse (1971)
They f*ck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were f*cked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
26 Jun 2011, 7:29 am
