Not a Momma

Lately, I’ve been processing some stuff. I’ve been trying to determine if I am emotionally frigid, or just distant. I’ve been analytical about it, which is probably not the right way to go about this.

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I had an argument with my father at IHop the other day. We had gone out to breakfast, like we do occasionally, and he was trying to manipulate me. He started by complaining about my school schedule.

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“When are you going to have your degree? Do you have a Bachelor’s or what? What are you doing?”

“Um, I’m going to school part time, so it’s going to take a while. I think I am going to focus on marketing-”

“When are you going to make some more time for your family?”

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Oh…yes…of course. Because I don’t visit you every week, I am now a bad, selfish, evil daughter. I am complete shit. Why did you even have me? So, I stand up for myself and remind him that he is the one who has cancelled several breakfast dates lately, and maybe he should make more time. We then move to,

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“I’m going to pop over your house on Sunday.”

“No, Dad, I’ve told you I don’t like pop in visits and that I don’t like visitors period on Sundays.”

“Yeah, you told me that last time when you yelled at me and said you didn’t love me and never wanted to see me again.”

“That’s not what I said, Dad. You popped over unannounced and I said that you could not do that, I need to have all visits planned in advance.”

“Yeah, but I like to come over on Sundays when I get my haircut.”

“No, Dad. I don’t have visitors on Sundays.  It’s my last day off before work and I need some personal space.”

“Yeah, well when you were a kid, I wanted personal space too.”

“Yes, but you decided to have children.”

“Well, I’ll come over anyway.”

“Well, I won’t be answering the door.”
“I’ll break your door down.”

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Okay, seriously? You are a 53 year-old man threatening to break down your 33 year-old daughter’s door. Is that who we are?

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This is when I realize that it is not about me. My Dad has tears in his eyes, his face is red, and he is mad as Hell…but not really about the fact that he can’t enjoy my company as often as he’d like….but because he is still a petulant child who must be indulged. He is throwing a tantrum. And this is the first time I have ever really, unemotionally stood up to him. I did everything dear Therapist told me to do. I made eye contact, didn’t get angry, kept my voice even.

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It’s hard. I don’t want to be mean. I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I want to be in control of my life. I want to live how I want to live. I don’t want to indulge someone just because it makes them feel better.

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And I won’t.