Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Home
Progressive Christian
What can you do with your terrible parents?

What can you do with your terrible parents?

Last updated on: February 8, 2011 at 7:47 pm by John Shore

What can you do with your terrible parents? 2011-02-08T19:47:53-08:00 John Shore

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

Cat and I are now on the plane flying home from our visit with my father.

I wanted to write real quick to address the (loving! thank you!) concern that so many of you have shown for my emotional welfare. I’m pretty tired just now, so I don’t suppose I’ll be anywhere near as artful in expressing this as I’d certainly prefer to be, so let me all-to-bluntly say this: that my father is such a profoundly unpleasant person doesn’t hurt me.

It doesn’t upset me; it doesn’t phase me; it doesn’t emotionally exhaust me; it doesn’t enrage me. It doesn’t make me insecure. It doesn’t make me tense. It doesn’t hurt my feelings. It doesn’t make me question anything. It doesn’t make me want to lash back at him. It doesn’t depress me.

It doesn’t do anything to me.

I’m aware of it, of course. And I’d prefer it didn’t happen. But I’d like there to be world peace, too. I’d like everyone in the world to speak the same language. I wish the weather was always perfect everywhere. I’d like a whole bunch of things to be true that aren’t.

I love my father. I don’t try to internally deny that; a fool pretends he can eradicate that part of him that will always love and need his or her parents. But “love” is one of those words. I love my dad instinctively; I love him without reference to who he actually is; I love him because that’s what children do with their parents.

I love him—but I’m not stupid. I know he doesn’t love me—or perhaps does, in the same general way in which vomit is food. As I wrote in Death Be Not Stupid, in very direct and explicit terms I’ve been dealing with resolving my relationship with my dad since I was a kid. I’m fifty-two. How sad would it be if I still got upset by my dad being the exact same person he’s always been?

Learning to understand and make true peace with the full truth of what both of my parents mean to me hasn’t been some sort of hobby of mine. It’s not a general interest I’ve had for awhile. It’s not a collection of wisdom trinkets I’ve mined from Oprah’s feel-good moments and a couple of self-help books. When I say I’ve spent the great portion of my life understanding my relationship with both my parents, I mean it’s one of the four or five most important, consistent, long-terms things I’ve done with my whole life. Other people do other things with their lives and time. That’s what I did with mine. I did it because I knew I’d never actually be wise or happy without doing it; I did it because I knew that if I didn’t, nothing else would ever matter in my life.

I did it so I could write. All my life I wanted to write stuff that mattered, that actually meant something. How can I be clear in what I’m saying if I’m not clear in my heart? And how can I be clear in my heart and mind if I’m not very clear on what my mother and father meant to me?

I knew, early on, that if I didn’t fill the great hole in my soul left by my awful parents, I’d never have anything real to say. So I didn’t have children, so that I’d have time to figure that out. Early on in my life I didn’t choose a career I’d have to tend to, so that I could figure that out. I waited to get married until I met a woman who got how absolutely essential it is for everyone to properly deal with their childhood, and all the issues related to it. And then I married that woman—and that’s pretty much all she and I then did with our lives together.

And that’s part of why, lo’ these many years later, I’ve been able to write Seven Reasons Women Stay in Abusive Relationships, and Unhappy? Reject Your Loser Parents, and the zillions of other such posts that I have. I waited to really write until I really knew the things that I felt most needed to be said.

Anyway … I’m just trying to say that, no, my father doesn’t rattle me. Because I can’t control him.

There are only two kinds of things that happen in the world: things you can control or influence, and things you can’t. What possible good can come from worrying and fretting over things you can’t in any way impact? Why spend precious energy spinning around about something you can’t do anything about anyway?

If you can do something, and you should do something, then you do what you can—and then you sleep at night. If you literally can’t do anything, then you don’t do anything—and then you also sleep at night.

I didn’t see or talk to my dad for twenty-five or so years. But then I became a Christian, and a little space opened up for me to have a more generous attitude toward him. So I wrote him a few times, and went out to visit him. Over the course of three years I made two such visits to his house, accompanied by my wife, for a a total of about three weeks. Our last visit with him was five years ago.

Now we’ve gone back, for another week.

It’s nothing. It doesn’t hurt me. I wish my dad was an emotionally healthy person, but he’s not. At this point in my life, that he’s not is no skin of my nose. I’ve made my life. And I’ve done right by God relative to letting my father know that I, his only son, would help him if he asked me to. That’s all I can do. So … I sleep at night. I slept great when I was at his house.

I now have all this sort of stuff pretty wholly nailed down. Life’s too short to allow where you’ve come from to determine where you end up.

Anyway, plane’s landing. All this is just meant to say: I’m all right. I’m good. And the concern you’ve shown about that is infinitely touching to me.

Gotta go! Love to you guys!

Personal

Previous Post

February 8, 2011

Yikes! My Dad Almost HIT Me!

Next Post

February 10, 2011 "Love, Whatsisname."

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category Christian Issues Christian Spirituality Dear John En Espanol Everywhere She's Not Humor Look See Pastor Bob's Corner Personal Portuguese Relationships Russian Short-short story Smith Family Chronicles Uncategorized

Select a Month March 2024 August 2022 August 2020 July 2020 June 2020 February 2020 December 2019 June 2019 December 2018 May 2018 May 2017 January 2017 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 August 2013 July 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012 April 2012 March 2012 February 2012 January 2012 December 2011 November 2011 October 2011 September 2011 August 2011 July 2011 June 2011 May 2011 April 2011 March 2011 February 2011 January 2011 December 2010 November 2010 October 2010 September 2010 August 2010 July 2010 June 2010 May 2010 April 2010 March 2010 February 2010 January 2010 December 2009 November 2009 October 2009 September 2009 August 2009 July 2009 June 2009 May 2009 April 2009 March 2009 February 2009 January 2009 December 2008 November 2008 October 2008 September 2008 August 2008 July 2008 June 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

Who said, "I am not worthy to untie the strap of his sandals"?

Select your answer to see how you score.

John the Baptist Thomas Peter Paul

Books by This Author Books by John Shore

See All Titles »