Stillness

I went out of town for a few days, but before I left, I got in another tiff with my father. He was walking around the house taking inventory of what he thought might belong to him. He still held a great deal of anger inside him, mostly over the story he made up about my husband coming back to the condo to haunt him so-to-speak. As my father marched around the condo taking note of the furnishings and the kitchen appliances, I could feel my own anger escalating. Is this what we have amounted to? I asked myself sadly, holding intense disappointment within me. I spent so much energy over the last year trying to build a life and family for my father in this city, and now he is counting inventory of the furnishings in the condo to make sure no one steals what belongs to him… at least that is how I interpreted his behavior at that time. So my anger escalated and I held it at bay. Then my father opened his mouth: “Who’s fridge is this???!  This is yours, isn’t it! You’re going to take it with you, right?!” he shouted out with authority. Not only did his tone of voice insult me, but his demands did too. Here I was running around trying get myself ready for my trip, finish my work, AND look for an apartment, and my fathers only concern was whether or not the fridge was mine, and if I was going to take it.

So I lost it with him yet again. I was tempted to tell him that the fridge was in fact, mine, as a way to passively aggressively get revenge on him. But it wasn’t mine. It came with the condo so it was in fact, HIS. I told him it was his, and I yelled at him for being so concerned with the petty details when here I was trying to find a place to live. One thing led to another and he ended up rambling with authority in his voice, about what was right and what was wrong. I was so full of anger that I walked away from him, went into the bedroom and pounded on the bed in one of my biggest emotional release rituals.

Eventually I left the house, suitcase in tow, and headed for the mountains to spend a fun weekend alone with my husband. But every so often during the weekend, I did wonder how my father was doing. I would usually check in on him when I go away, but he made it so very clear to me over the last few months that he could take care of himself. Heck, he even had enough strength to bash my husband over the head 4 times and give him 4 bruises that I was fine knowing he had his own strength to take care of himself.

Being without my father was peaceful, fun, and spacious. I realized even more that weekend that moving out and starting a new life with my husband was the right thing to do. Thankfully that weekend, a landlord called me and gave the good news that I was approved for an apartment. I was so grateful.

When I got back, I was a bit nervous at how I was going to find my father, and the condo. I walked in the door and greeted him. The place was a mess, and my father seemed contemplative and sad.  He greeted me back but it was nothing to write home about. I realized at that moment that he owned his own emotions, and I am not responsible for his happiness. I knew on the surface that this was true, but somewhere deep inside, as many children are, I also knew that I was codependent on his happiness. And the truth is, he will never be happy. Sure he has his moments of joy, but he carries around dread and suffering. He’s made this choice and doesn’t realize that is is a choice. At that moment, I cut a cord with him – the cord that made me codependent on him.

It’s been 24 hours since I’ve been back, and I barely said 3 words to him. I worked in my bedroom and stayed clear of him when possible. He came in my room to complain about something trivial, and again, I saw his pain, I saw his suffering and dread, but I didn’t own it. It was his. I must’ve healed that part of myself to no longer be triggered by his drama.

I am starting to feel compassion for him yet again. I can sit here in stillness as I watch him react to life. Part of me still feels bad, but what counts is that I am getting less and less triggered, and feeling less and less responsible for his happiness. And in turn, it seems that he is also feeling less and less compelled to blame me for his misery.

Things needed to happen as they did, in the sequence and magnitude that it did in order for stillness to arrive.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I am conscious of being an instrument of peace, so that my transition into my new life will be easy, simple and even fun.