It Would Be Easy to Hate My Father, Still I Don’t

0 Share

What would you do with the most heroic act of refusing to hate the person who has provided you with all the reasons to do so? The least effortful, most explicable answer to my childhood trauma would have been a bitter, all-absorbing hatred. The facts against my father were overwhelming. But I took another way, the way of painful realization and bitter-bought calm.

It is not about the need to forgive the past but to comprehend how his addictive personality became the unknowing creator of the most painful and the most powerful aspects of my personality. His drunkenness encouraged the anarchy, which did not determine my ability to love. When I decided to perceive the human that was broken behind the pain, I started creating a life that was not grounded on his failures, but on my deep-rooted strength.

The Weight of a Complicated Childhood

●     The Incidents that Influenced My Childhood: I do not remember my childhood days when I was being lulled into sleep, but the noise of bottles falling together and the silent tension that ensued after a bet was lost. The atmosphere in our house was unstable, and it was caused directly by the alcohol abuse of my father and the unstable friend. It is a breeding ground of childhood trauma, and this environment taught me to read a room with a glance, to know when someone was going to explode before they did.

●  Living in the Shadow of his Choices: His gambling addiction was always in our shadow. Vows were broken as easily as fortunes were lost and stability was a myth that was told in the homes of other families. Financial insecurity was an ongoing stressor, but the emotional whiplash caused the most significant impressions. One day this man might be like Jekyll and Hyde, the next day he might be like Jekyll, and the day after that, he might be like Hyde, and we have to learn to live with the consequences of his insatiable addictive personality.

● The Questions I Had to Keep to Myself: I had a list of questions that were not to be answered as I was a child. Why was I not good enough to make him stop? Why was it that we were so bad he had to get away? These were the questions that grew and took the shape of a belief that had deep roots in that I was somehow involved in the mess. 

Why Hatred Was the Easy Path

● Anger, Resentment and the Self-evident Reasons: I was in the default position of anger. The sourness was a weighty garment I put on, which explained my chilliness. It would have been known to the world had I cut him off altogether. He was the cause of the pain after all, and should I, the victim, have the right to hate? It was a plain story, and in its plainness was all too temptingly alluring. It would have been so simple to make my life be characterized by his domestic abuse and nothing more.

● The High Price of Hanging on to Hate: I started to realize that I was drinking hatred. Holding on to that resentment was like holding a hot coal and planning to shoot it at him but it was me who was being burnt. It was exhausting. It tainted my other relationships and held me in place to the same pain I was attempting to avoid.

Choosing Forgiveness Over Bitterness

● Knowing the Humanist behind the Father: My conversion was not initiated by a melodramatic repentance on his part, but by a mute intuition in my own heart. I began to view my father as more than a father, as a fallible human being. I was informed of his personal trauma that had not been cured yet, his troubles that were older than me. This was not about justifying his actions, but knowing the cause of the action.

● The Little Seeds of Repentance and Remorse: No great gestures, merely little, nearly unnoticeable signs of remorse, a momentary glance of shame, a gesture of uncertain effort to make contact. They could not cancel the past, but they were sufficient that I could see the struggle in him. These glimpses of humanity were necessary to me in my healing journey, not to his credit, but to my own.

The Lessons My Father Never Meant to Teach

● Knowing the Human behind the Father: My conversion did not start with some theatrical apology on his part, but with a silent understanding on my part. I began to look at my father not only as Father, but as a human being with flaws. I heard his personal experience of unhealed trauma, his struggles that began before me. 

● Little Marks of Redemption and Remorse: No great displays, but little, nearly invisible displays of remorse, a glance of shame, a tentative effort at an approach. They could not have been sufficient to forget the past, but they were sufficient to make me perceive the struggle in him. 

Why I Don’t Hate My Father Today

●  Reconceptualizing the Meaning of Family to Me: I do not despise my father since I have decided to live out of his errors. Family has been redefined to me, and I have established my circle of love and support, which is based on trust and safety.

●  Creating My Own Legacy of Healing: It is not his addictive personality anymore, but my recovery. It is breaking the chain. Releasing hatred was the initial and most important move towards the healing process.

Conclusion

The story of my father is a witness to the devastating nature of an untreated addictive personality. But my story is one of healing. At Athena Behavioural Health, we realize that the trauma caused by the addiction of a loved one needs special care to heal. You can begin your process of peace today. Call Athena Behavioural Health now and make the first step to recover on your own.