How Do You Tell Your Dad About Your Traumas?
This original blog post was something I wrote hastily, a rushed mix of emotions. For the last little while I have actively been trying to explain to my father my needs. Unless you're new here, you know I am an open book. At first this blog post was just a list of my traumas, how they affected me, and how I was trying to heal - blunt and to the point. I stared at this list for days figuring out how this was beneficial to anyone. What was I actually trying to convey to the family I was now living with?
After discussing this with my therapist, he said it was okay for me to want to simply be understood by my dad and family. I have lived 26 years and I feel like I have become the woman that I am and these people have no idea about the hardships and triumphs that it took to even get here. I wanted to just sit them down and spit it all at them and hope that: TADA! They would suddenly know how to deal with me. But that's not how being a person works.
Having gone through everything that I have, I think it makes sense that I want to stop feeling awkward and want to just say "Hey, that joke isn't funny cause I was assaulted", "This movie scene makes me uncomfortable because I've gone through that."
I often feel like a spotlight is on me. I feel as though I respond to things oddly because of memories of trauma and then I feel a need to explain why I am reacting the way that I am. Turns out, no one notices or cares about these oddities that I feel are extremely obvious. Maybe that comes from having previously lived with only one other person; and having anything but a perfect, content mood be unacceptable. It was a mild relief when I was told no one noticed anything and that there was no need to be so defensive.
I'm also dealing with a culture clash. A traditional African man is trying to teach AND learn about his 26 year old bisexual, Westernized daughter. Yikes. Big yikes. We have, so far, differed over vulnerability, how we move on from pain, what is appropriate behaviour outside of the house, how women should behave, and his feelings on sobriety. Obviously, I am a feminist with the belief that I should not have to change what I am doing if it is not hurting anyone, to conform to anyone's thoughts or feelings. A man will never rule me. I am the Alpha, way too opinionated to be shut up so either ride with me or die behind me (my new slogan?) Next. My Dad has the same energy as I so all of our discussions are passionate and come from good intentions, but are often met with scrutiny from the other person.
All of this to say, I brought my 'shit list' of traumas to my Dad. I started to explain that I didn't even feel good about the way I was opening this discussion but that I felt it needed to be said. The conversation did not go well. I went to bed upset that he could not just be an ear and listen to me. I think he was frustrated I wasn't seeing where the advice I did not want to hear was coming from. A few days later my dad reopened the discussion while we were alone in the car. Not an ideal time to talk about various assaults, but I appreciated the effort and tried to better explain what I wanted from this discourse and he did too.
What I learned is that rushing my own healing process does not work when there are other variables (a.k.a. people.) The people who love you will love you the way they can - not always the way you need. Telling someone, "Hey, you aren't loving me the way I need," is naturally going to cause someone to be on the defensive as well, even if that isn't your exact words. My Dad thinks that he is loving me to the best of his abilities. Me telling him that it isn't working is almost an attack on his character and parenting, but really I am just trying to coach him into being the Dad (and listener) that I need. My therapist likes the idea of "coaching" people toward what you need from them, in a non-manipulative way, and I do too.
Patience, young grasshoppers,
Cropberry.
After discussing this with my therapist, he said it was okay for me to want to simply be understood by my dad and family. I have lived 26 years and I feel like I have become the woman that I am and these people have no idea about the hardships and triumphs that it took to even get here. I wanted to just sit them down and spit it all at them and hope that: TADA! They would suddenly know how to deal with me. But that's not how being a person works.
Having gone through everything that I have, I think it makes sense that I want to stop feeling awkward and want to just say "Hey, that joke isn't funny cause I was assaulted", "This movie scene makes me uncomfortable because I've gone through that."
I often feel like a spotlight is on me. I feel as though I respond to things oddly because of memories of trauma and then I feel a need to explain why I am reacting the way that I am. Turns out, no one notices or cares about these oddities that I feel are extremely obvious. Maybe that comes from having previously lived with only one other person; and having anything but a perfect, content mood be unacceptable. It was a mild relief when I was told no one noticed anything and that there was no need to be so defensive.
I'm also dealing with a culture clash. A traditional African man is trying to teach AND learn about his 26 year old bisexual, Westernized daughter. Yikes. Big yikes. We have, so far, differed over vulnerability, how we move on from pain, what is appropriate behaviour outside of the house, how women should behave, and his feelings on sobriety. Obviously, I am a feminist with the belief that I should not have to change what I am doing if it is not hurting anyone, to conform to anyone's thoughts or feelings. A man will never rule me. I am the Alpha, way too opinionated to be shut up so either ride with me or die behind me (my new slogan?) Next. My Dad has the same energy as I so all of our discussions are passionate and come from good intentions, but are often met with scrutiny from the other person.
All of this to say, I brought my 'shit list' of traumas to my Dad. I started to explain that I didn't even feel good about the way I was opening this discussion but that I felt it needed to be said. The conversation did not go well. I went to bed upset that he could not just be an ear and listen to me. I think he was frustrated I wasn't seeing where the advice I did not want to hear was coming from. A few days later my dad reopened the discussion while we were alone in the car. Not an ideal time to talk about various assaults, but I appreciated the effort and tried to better explain what I wanted from this discourse and he did too.
What I learned is that rushing my own healing process does not work when there are other variables (a.k.a. people.) The people who love you will love you the way they can - not always the way you need. Telling someone, "Hey, you aren't loving me the way I need," is naturally going to cause someone to be on the defensive as well, even if that isn't your exact words. My Dad thinks that he is loving me to the best of his abilities. Me telling him that it isn't working is almost an attack on his character and parenting, but really I am just trying to coach him into being the Dad (and listener) that I need. My therapist likes the idea of "coaching" people toward what you need from them, in a non-manipulative way, and I do too.
Patience, young grasshoppers,
Cropberry.
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