Love and Acknowledgment

I have always said that there are two phrases in the human language that require a leap of faith and in turn mean so much. The first is "I love you." When you say it , you never know the response. What if they don't love you back? What if this love isn't wanted? And once it's out there, it's out there permanently. It's unnerving. I can still remember to this day telling an 8 year old girl I loved her and her shrugging her shoulders and running away.I remember my first real girlfriend, Diane Hardman. I told her I loved her . When I moved I was devastated. My parents would tell me they loved me when I was a child, and than in the next breath they would tell me I wasn't good enough. It should have come as no surprise, that while I felt love for people I always questioned the love that was given to me . I never really believed it. I figured I was just a step away from heartache. The second phrase is "I'm sorry." Boy I have said my share of I'm sorry's over the years. When you say your sorry , you are truly putting yourself out there. What if the person doesn't accept your apology? Some wrongs take a while to be forgiven. Time can heal old wounds. However, I also believe that time can create a widening space that as it passes,isn't easily crossed. Some wounds and scars run very deep. I went home after hearing from my son what my parents had told him and just sat. I was devastated. My son was told by two people who love him that I was not to be loved. That I was a bad person. These people were my parents. The two people who should have loved me unconditionally. How can you tell that to a child? What does this do to a child's mind? If a child gets half of their identity from one parent and the other half from another , what goes through their minds when they are told that one of their parents isn't loved? Do they in turn feel unloved. Are they ashamed to be the child of this parent? Will they grow up always expecting their parents to one day not love them? I just didn't know. I'm still not quite sure if these and other things my parents have said will have a long term effect on my sons mind. It's manipulating. It's so cruel. Yes, I know they had calculated that he would tell me. This was their way of getting their message of contempt for me delivered ,by the person I loved most. It's sad, but as my history had shown me, it was par for the course. I'll still never understand where the disconnect comes in someones mind and heart to do some of the things they've done. I know the names were meant to infuriate me. I know the hitting was designed to make me submissive. And I know the closet was used as a deterrent. As I reflected on all these things, I began to feel an overwhelming sense of anger and emotion. I was in my 30's now. I could defend myself. My son was innocent. To manipulate his mind for the sole purpose of hurting me was the ultimate betrayal.When I sat down to talk with my therapist about this latest happening, she could sense the darkness setting in to my mind. "Before we talk about this moving forward, how does that make you feel Tom? Your parents don't love you. You're parents don't even think enough of you to say it to your face. They use your son. How does that make you feel?" Alone. Worthless. I'm no good.Angry. "And how do you want to respond to this? If they were here right now." I'm not sure. I'd probably shut down. "OK , look you have got to learn how to constructively deal with this. When you keep it bottled up inside, it eats away at you emotionally. It doesn't leave you a ton of room to handle the rest of liefs stresses. " I knew where she was going with this. For so long, I had held in my hurt feelings. I never told anyone. I just stored it in my heart. It slowly broke me down over the years. So I made a decision on that day. I was tired of the abuse. I was tired of being called stupid. I was tired of being afraid. And there was no way on earth I would let Tommy endure what I endured. There was no way his emotions would be manipulated. I had to do what was right. I knew it wouldn't be a popular move , but it was one that had to be made. When I got home I called my attorney. "Deanne, I'm not sure I feel comfortable with my parents having unlimited access to my son. I think they are purposely manipulating his emotions to hurt me. I can't do it anymore. It's not right. I know I'm setting up a huge fight with my parents." It was a sickening feeling. I talked with our court appointed family counselor who in turn talked to my therapist and they both agreed. To allow my parents to continue the abuse through my son was unacceptable. I had to take a stand. I knew this decision would set me down a path I couldn't backtrack. I think for so long I held on to the idea that one day my parents would look at me like a man. That one day they would acknowledge the fact that I was a good man. A good father. I looked at all the cards they had sent me for birthdays and fathers day . The words were there."we are so proud of you for being a good man." The actions were somewhere else. My mother routinely called me stupid. In front of my son. It got me angry . I knew I had to remove myself from that, so I wouldn't walk around with that anger. My father would explode at the most unpredictable times. I knew it was a knee jerk reaction to a frustration he was feeling at home. I didn't want that to be my relationship with Tommy. As I signed the extra addition to my custody request I hesitated. I was so heartbroken. With this decision I would have nobody. No family. Our court appointed therapist sensed my hesitation. I didn't want to do it. I wanted this to be a bad dream that I would just wake up from. I sat their in my attorneys office defeated. Sick with heartbreak. My therapist walked in and handed me a 3 sheets of paper stapled together. It was the interview she had conducted with my parents. "This is who they are Tom. Read it. This is what they think of you. I know you don't want to do this but abusers only respond to strength. Find the strength. You are a good man. A good father. We acknowledge it. But you need to acknowledge it. Just read it." So I sat and read. The more I read, the more I was sure. These people didn't love me. These people didn't know me. They were obviously very wounded. Most likely with their own set inner pain. However , as much as I wanted to reach out I realized that I had to protect my son. About 10 minutes later I signed the amendment to our custody request. Trial was still months away. I went home and tried to decompress. That night I watched a special on the discovery channel about Jeffrey Dahmer. The special was about Dahmers parents. I watched as Jeffrey Dahmers father described the pain that his sons actions had caused him. He obviously loved his son. During the interview he talked about weekly driving 4 hours each way to see his son in prison. He hated what his son had done, but he loved his son. Wait! My parents lived about 1 1/2 hours away. I never hurt anyone. In the year and half since Maria and I had separated, I hadn't received one call. Not one visit. Am I worse than a serial killer? No. For what ever reason my parents felt a disconnect with me. Enough of a disconnect to completely shut me out of their lives. Their relatives would follow suit. To this day , I haven't heard from any of my family. I have reached out and called my grandmother, but she has never once called me. It's an issolating feeling. Would I change my decision knowing what I know now? Absolutely not. I mean seriously, what kind of parents turn their back on their child? I'm not sure. But I can't make myself sick trying to make sense of their actions. My next therapy appointment took on a different tone. "So I have a question." My therapist was intrigued. I never opened up with a question. Not quite sure of my wording I embarrassingly said " I think I've met someone. I'm not sure what to do" "You've fallen in love." she said with a faint smile. "That's not what I said." "You didn't have to. Tell me about her." With so much going on in my life the strangest thing had happened. I learned I could love again. However, as I would soon learn, my wounds were very deep. I wasn't ready . I still didn't love myself, and the more I thought of someone else entering my heart, the more I looked for excuses not to love myself. The storm was starting again. And this time I would drag a new person into my chaos.