Tuesday, May 26, 2009
He is an angry man. He is angry at me, angry with me. When I showed up at his door, peace offerings in hand, he told me that I was no longer welcome in his home. I knew it would be pointless to argue with him. So I left.
He is a depressed man. He has switched medications for depression as many times as he has switched therapists. My suspicion is that he is not willing to listen to what he does not want to hear.
And it feels like a nightmare, the deterioration of our relationship. Obviously I had crossed a line by speaking my mind to him if our relationship of forty years can be so easily disposed of by him. I am sure that he thinks that it was none of my business and that I should have kept my mouth shut. And I think to myself, That is a phrase for people with whom you have no emotional relationship. Or so I thought. I must be wrong if I've caused him to be so angry and closed off.
Or perhaps we never had much of an emotional relationship in the first place, even after forty years, if things were already that precarious between us? Maybe it was only a matter of time.
She was right to move out. His response of anger to me only seems to prove that she was right to escape such a negative and emotionally unhealthy atmosphere. No matter how hurt his feelings may be, she had enough sense of self-preservation to leave, at least, and to no longer be subjected to such an emotionally destructive environment.
Just my opinion, an unwelcome one, apparently.
"You piss me off!" I want to scream at him. Ironically, I wish he would have yelled the same to me when I had spoken my mind, instead of shutting me out. One of the ways we are similar is that we rarely express our anger to others. We both hold our anger in, letting resentment build up like toxic pus with no outlet or chance for being expelled.
After being told that I am no longer welcome in his home I wasted about three days wondering if I am bad person. After the third day, I decided to no longer let his negativity waste any more of my life. I have too many blessings to focus on and be grateful for. Too bad for him.
I am sad for his unhappy and angry life. I am sad that I cannot be more effective in helping him. He does not want my help and I should have never tried to help.
He hangs onto his anger, stubbornly clenching it with both fists until the day he dies, perhaps. He is like an injured, frightened dog who snarls and snaps at any human who tries to approach and offer help.
I will stay out of harm's way.