by Somehow, at some point over the years, my dad began to see me as the embodiment of every liberal politician he can’t stand.
Now, I’m certainly the left-leaning, “yellow dog” Democrat of the family. And I frequently try to provide counter-balancing insight to whatever topic is at hand. The problem is, lately, who I am has become lost in his “debates.”
My feelings came out in today’s blackout poems.
The Greek tragedy masks represent my stand-in role. I’m not me; he’s addressing whichever liberal currently needs a beat-down. Whatever points I may try to make are but a disruption to the lecture.
So I put on a complacent mask and warily dodge comments and remain aloof. Until I can’t anymore. And then, because I speak up, I’m the bad guy who’s turned the “discussion” into an argument.
Now, I’m a grown woman who understands her options. I can
- sit quietly and take it
- argue thoughtfully
- get up and leave
- not show up
I love my dad, so not showing up isn’t a real option. Unfortunately, he seeks out these “debates.” At various points, I’ve implemented the first three tactics. Doing so hasn’t made me feel good–though, of the three, “leaving” makes me feel least bad. But I also feel alone. Imagine: family time=essentially absenting yourself.
Nobody likes being the focal point for anyone’s anger, and this constant scapegoating hurts. When everyone else sits by silently (or joins in to pile it on), I see the rest of my family supporting this treatment.
So poem #2:
I know my dad’s not going to change. And probably no one else will. It’s up to me to figure out how to best take care of myself.
