Recently, I wrote about the fact that my parents had been in New York and yet had not included me in their plans. In an e-mail that I sent to them, I pointed out that the only conclusion I could come to was the fact that they did not wish to see me. This was confirmed by my father, Mr. Snidely, in a return e-mail I received two days later:
"....This was my doing, not your mother's, and I should like to explain why.
You and I have different values, bourgeois versus bohemian one might say. Nothing wrong with that, we all have to choose a way to get through the day. Apart from that, though, you have since early childhood gone out of your way to be provocative, to behave in ways designed to irritate, annoy and enrage me. It appears to driven by some inner compulsion of yours, and you are good at it, no doubt about that; I could cite endless examples but this would not, I think, be helpful.
I wish you well, indeed I do, and I am pleased that you have found some form of equilibrium. However we do not do well together, you and I, and it is best that we face that fact honestly."
When I was very young, my father's half-brother sexually molested me. I didn't tell them until I was working with the therapist I am with now. My mother had always wondered why the close relationship that Uncle Marcus and I had fell apart. Early in his career, my father traveled so much, that at one point, either my sister or I asked our mother who Daddy was. Even when he was there, he was not emotionally demonstrative, given to pecks on the cheeks, rather than hugs. I would have given anything to hear him say "I love you". We all adored and worshiped him, led by our mother: he could do no wrong.
As you have read, I on the other hand, could do no right. I tried my level best, but as an emotional, artistic, mentally-ill person, I apparently could not, nor will not fit into his rigid definition of an acceptable person. In the 12-step program I am in, we take responsibility for our actions and make amends. When I tried in the past to do so with my father, he said it was "pointless and futile". My first reaction to this last e-mail was one of horror, guilt and shame. That my actions have been so acutely terrible that my own father will no longer see me.
But the problem is, I just wasn't that bad. He is just a sick man. And cold and cruel.
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