Get Better, Not Bitter

I read something somewhere that said children of abusive or alcoholic parents will follow one of two paths in their lives: they will become just like the parents that raised them, or they will put all their effort into being nothing like them. I think I am a strange mix of the two.

You see, no matter how much you try to not be like your parents, you can't escape the fact that you are a mix of their DNA. They may or may not have raised you, but they are still a part of you. Whether you like it or not.

When my alcoholic, dysfunctional parents divorced, I told myself that I would never get a divorce. No matter what I had to do, if my marriage was in trouble, I would go to the ends of the earth to fix it. I would do it for my kids, if I had any. I would do it for myself. I would do it for my husband. I would not give up.

My dad missed out on my life from age nine to age nineteen. He always said he didn't want a nasty custody battle, but I think he just wasn't strong enough to fight. He said he thought we didn't want to see him, but I think he knew it was my mom that didn't want us to want to see him. There were many nights when my mom would scream and yell at us that I wished he would rescue us, but he never did. I told myself I would never give up on my family. I would never abandon them when they needed me.

I understand that my parents had messed up childhoods, but I never understood, and still don't, why we had to suffer for the crappy things that had happened to them. My dad's dad was married three times and was an alcoholic, just like his father before him. My dad is an alcoholic, though he won't admit it. Grandpa told dad his whole life that he was stupid, and my dad has spent his whole life trying to prove him wrong. Even though Grandpa has been dead for several years, my dad is still trying to prove him wrong. I see the pain in my dad's eyes. I see him trying to numb the pain and forget as he drinks and drinks. I don't know if he sees the pain in my eyes.

My mom grew up in an equally tumultuous home. From what I understand, my grandparents fought a lot. I think Grandpa hit Grandma, but I'm not sure how often. It got worse the older they got, the fighting, not the hitting. By the time Grandpa died, they were sleeping in separate rooms. They'd been married for over fifty years. There are a lot of other things that happened to my mom, but I'm not clear on what they are. I don't really want to know. My mom is an alcoholic, but she won't admit it. She's a very angry, lonely person.

My dad's sisters, Kathy and Carolyn, tell me that I'm a lot like my dad. I'm sensitive and loving.
My dad's brother, Tom, tells me that I'm strong like my mother. I'm independent and smart.

Those seem like good qualities. Right?

My dad is also weak. My mom has an explosive temper. Dad often pouts when he doesn't get his way. Mom shouts and slams things when she doesn't get her way. Mom and Dad can both be very controlling. Dad represses his emotions, thoughts, and feelings while mom lets it all out and holds nothing back. They have both let the crappy things that happened in their lives destroy them, their marriage, and their children.

If you saw them at church, at work, or at the grocery store, they seem normal enough. Maybe even happy, but inside, they are broken, broken people.

I never want to be like that.

My favorite quote of the year is from a book by Donald Miller. Don meets a guy that grew up in foster care because he was abandoned by his parents. He never had a family. Somehow he grew up into a normal, happy, successful person, and founded a mentor program for boys without father's. Don asked the guy how he'd turned out the way he did after everything he'd been through. The guy told Don that when terrible things happen to you, you can do one of two things: you can get better, or you can get bitter. He chose to get better. So do I.

I know that I can't erase all traces of my parents from my personality and who I am, and I wouldn't want to. However, I can choose not to carry their crap into the next generation.

I've taken an inventory of the things I need to work on and watch out for. I've shed a lot of the negativity that my mother fed into me. I've shed a lot of the anger and all of the hate she poured into me. I'm steadily lengthening the short fuse she gave me. I will hold onto the strength and perseverance she instilled in me. I will keep her sharp wit and humor. I will not throw out her constant motivation to excel in all I do.

I will get rid of the low self-esteem my father has been weighed down by his whole life. I will not stifle my feelings and emotions like my father does. I refuse to use guilt as a weapon, one that he's carried his whole life. I will love others unconditionally, as my dad loves others. I will not judge, lest I be judged, as dad understands so well. I will give the shirt off my back to whomever needs it, as dad has done many times.

With God's strength, I will get better, not bitter. I can see the result of getting bitter in my parents lives. I don't want my kids to see that in me.