My week and my interactions...
Dec. 27th, 2003 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jayThis was a trying week... the trip down was the easiest.
Imagine that you're in a household, with a large open dining room/living room area lined with couches and chairs. Kids run through, dragging toys. On one side... a 48" wide-screen TV and home entertainment system. On the other, a padded leather chair. The television is tuned constantly to either Fox News or occasional football. The "public" space is dominated by the sound of O'Reilly or other smug, right-wing, nearly-shouting talking heads. In the chair, a figure who mutters epithets in agreement with the TV... denouncing the ACLU, minorities, anti-war protests, environmentalists, gays, the supposed media conspiracy, those supposedly persecuting Christians... those holding other opinions are "that's stupid" ... "Only an idiot would think that"... "just cowards and fools"... "you're too smart to really think that, come on". Sometimes openly slandering causes or opinions shown on the TV that he knows that you support.
Ready to engage? Strap on the flameproof underwear? Actually engage logic centers?
No... he's your father, and he's three days out of the hospital, after open heart surgery. He's depressed and crankier-than-usual and stressed from the visitors. And it is his house, his parlor. All one can do is refuse to rise to bait, refuse to engage, bite one's lip. Hide out in the basement, away from the political ranting, and watch the kids play video games or get online. Or walk outdoors. The only stress-free time is late at night, after everyone's in bed.
Early on, I slipped up twice... one shouting match on Monday, another Tuesday. Both times I caught myself, had to stop talking and withdraw. As the week went on, I became better at ignoring the grating TV commentary and my father's political comments. But I spent much of the week tightly controlled, frustrated and angry.
With all of this pent-up anger, especially after the argument on Monday... getting online wasn't such a good idea, either. My friends became the targets of my diverted fury. My lack of ability to communicate with my dad left me depressed, feeling low. Combined with unexpected news from the previous weekend, and given a sudden upset, I took the worst possible interpretation of something said to me and ran with it, convincing myself that I was being patronized (and at some level, that I was a miserable wretch who *deserved* to be treated as poorly as I was projecting I had been). I'm grateful togeekchick for listening to me vent (and for an occasional swift kick, when I was losing touch with reality ;). And to hopeforyou for likewise giving me a safe space online. And to patgreene for tolerating what must have seemed like my temporary insanity, combined with biting her own tongue (although she nearly lost it herself when Dad starting badmouthing Matt Gonzales, who she knew at Stanford) and dealing with the kids and last-minute shopping. She deserves a medal, after this week :-).
And I owe apologies to those individuals that I've jumped-on over the past week... as one of them said, I deserve to feel a bit sheepish. Whatever pent-up stuff I may be carrying doesn't justify vastly-disproportionate responses towards friends. Or wrapping myself up in some cloak of victimhood... sigh. I thought I was getting better at not expressing myself online when I'm in those kinds of headspaces. I need to find a fail-safe process. And some ways to remind myself of my own personal value when I'm angry and depressed.
Thing is... one-on-one, my father is friendly and gets along with people from many different backgrounds. He can have interesting insights. I love him... I respect the many good qualities that I can see... but right now, it is hard to sit in the same room with him for more than a half hour at a time. This makes me sad. I don't have a good answer, other than to hope that he'll be mellower when he's not 3 days post-op.
On the surface... the week went well. No one has been sick, no accidents, excellent weather. Events went off smoothly. I saw friends I'd missed, and some new ones. Did some fun activities... all going according to plan. And yet, not. Hopefully this next week will be better, at least underneath.
Catharsis came to me on Christmas Eve, at the late-night service... it was at a very diverse little church, St. Jude's in Smyrna. Split 50/50 white and black in its congregation, all loving each other and working together. And singing carols... was very healing. I needed to sing, to dance, to throw off the accumulated stress and fear and anger. I'm grateful for that little church, and that experience... the week gradually improved afterwards. Advent worked for me, in that sense. I was happy, almost-giggling afterward in the parking lot. :-D
Imagine that you're in a household, with a large open dining room/living room area lined with couches and chairs. Kids run through, dragging toys. On one side... a 48" wide-screen TV and home entertainment system. On the other, a padded leather chair. The television is tuned constantly to either Fox News or occasional football. The "public" space is dominated by the sound of O'Reilly or other smug, right-wing, nearly-shouting talking heads. In the chair, a figure who mutters epithets in agreement with the TV... denouncing the ACLU, minorities, anti-war protests, environmentalists, gays, the supposed media conspiracy, those supposedly persecuting Christians... those holding other opinions are "that's stupid" ... "Only an idiot would think that"... "just cowards and fools"... "you're too smart to really think that, come on". Sometimes openly slandering causes or opinions shown on the TV that he knows that you support.
Ready to engage? Strap on the flameproof underwear? Actually engage logic centers?
No... he's your father, and he's three days out of the hospital, after open heart surgery. He's depressed and crankier-than-usual and stressed from the visitors. And it is his house, his parlor. All one can do is refuse to rise to bait, refuse to engage, bite one's lip. Hide out in the basement, away from the political ranting, and watch the kids play video games or get online. Or walk outdoors. The only stress-free time is late at night, after everyone's in bed.
Early on, I slipped up twice... one shouting match on Monday, another Tuesday. Both times I caught myself, had to stop talking and withdraw. As the week went on, I became better at ignoring the grating TV commentary and my father's political comments. But I spent much of the week tightly controlled, frustrated and angry.
With all of this pent-up anger, especially after the argument on Monday... getting online wasn't such a good idea, either. My friends became the targets of my diverted fury. My lack of ability to communicate with my dad left me depressed, feeling low. Combined with unexpected news from the previous weekend, and given a sudden upset, I took the worst possible interpretation of something said to me and ran with it, convincing myself that I was being patronized (and at some level, that I was a miserable wretch who *deserved* to be treated as poorly as I was projecting I had been). I'm grateful to
geekchick for listening to me vent (and for an occasional swift kick, when I was losing touch with reality ;). And to hopeforyou for likewise giving me a safe space online. And to patgreene for tolerating what must have seemed like my temporary insanity, combined with biting her own tongue (although she nearly lost it herself when Dad starting badmouthing Matt Gonzales, who she knew at Stanford) and dealing with the kids and last-minute shopping. She deserves a medal, after this week :-).And I owe apologies to those individuals that I've jumped-on over the past week... as one of them said, I deserve to feel a bit sheepish. Whatever pent-up stuff I may be carrying doesn't justify vastly-disproportionate responses towards friends. Or wrapping myself up in some cloak of victimhood... sigh. I thought I was getting better at not expressing myself online when I'm in those kinds of headspaces. I need to find a fail-safe process. And some ways to remind myself of my own personal value when I'm angry and depressed.
Thing is... one-on-one, my father is friendly and gets along with people from many different backgrounds. He can have interesting insights. I love him... I respect the many good qualities that I can see... but right now, it is hard to sit in the same room with him for more than a half hour at a time. This makes me sad. I don't have a good answer, other than to hope that he'll be mellower when he's not 3 days post-op.
On the surface... the week went well. No one has been sick, no accidents, excellent weather. Events went off smoothly. I saw friends I'd missed, and some new ones. Did some fun activities... all going according to plan. And yet, not. Hopefully this next week will be better, at least underneath.
Catharsis came to me on Christmas Eve, at the late-night service... it was at a very diverse little church, St. Jude's in Smyrna. Split 50/50 white and black in its congregation, all loving each other and working together. And singing carols... was very healing. I needed to sing, to dance, to throw off the accumulated stress and fear and anger. I'm grateful for that little church, and that experience... the week gradually improved afterwards. Advent worked for me, in that sense. I was happy, almost-giggling afterward in the parking lot. :-D
