My husband once told me about a conversation he had with my dad. He made me promise that I would never use it as ammunition against my father. I promised, but reluctantly, even though I had no idea what he was about to say.
He told me that my dad sometimes intentionally says things to me to make me angry, to get a rise out of me.
Wow.
I can’t describe how upsetting this was to me.
While I have never directly used this piece of information as ammunition against my dad, it has fueled my own anger and pettiness against him. He just-argh!-he just does things that make me SO frustrated! And, next thing I know, I’m biting his head off about something that probably really isn’t even anger-worthy because I’ve stored up so many of the anger-worthy things in my brain.
But I know I’ll be sorry for my outbursts someday. I can even see the hurt and confusion in my dad’s face sometimes, like he’s wondering why I’m so mean to him. And I am. I am SO mean to him. It’s almost uncontrollable. It’s almost like it just slips right out before I can do a thing about it.
I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want to look back on my relationship with my dad, when that inevitable mortality kicks in for one of us, and realize what an idiot I’ve been.
I just don’t know how to stop it.
