Discovered something tonight. Something that explains so much. Something that unfortunately is still affecting my family and is probably the reason we all are the way we are. And sadly, that something is the same thing I thought I had fought and won over: depression.
Although this time, it isn't mine. And this battle to be soon fought isn't my battle. But it's because I fought my own battle that I was able to see what was staring us all in the face for the last 30-odd years.
Over the last 5 or so years, since my son was born, I thought he had a few behavior issues. I thought he was fighting us and being defiant and doing the things he did because he has a stubborn streak - a strong will that he inherited from both of us. My god, did he ever test me. And my god, did I handle it badly sometimes. I failed his tests, many times. When he lashed out, I lashed back. It usually wasn't physical, but my yelling when I was frustrated and angry could be just as damaging as a slap to the rear end that was just a little too hard.
Since I've been happy, he's a different kid. Since I treated my depression and have managed to handle his behavior calmly and rationally, he has literally become an angel. He has made me so proud - his love for his sister, his caring for everyone in general, his amazing and beyond-his-age good behavior in every single situation, in addition to his brilliant verbal skills and desire to help out - in truth, his real personality has come to light. It was always there. I knew it was. But I was too caught up in my own battle within my own head to be able to see what an incredibly wonderful kid he really was.
Someone said to me tonight that with depression, you can't really see how your depression affects everyone around you, and how it changes you, until you get better. Since I've been better, my son is better. It scares me that he could have gotten worse because of me. It's further reason to stay on my medication and stay better.
Last year, in the middle of my darkest time, when I was struggling with my self, my job, my child and even (to a lesser extent because of my wonderful husband) my marriage, I went to a physical therapy appointment. It ended up being a therapy appointment, all right, but not a physical one, as I broke down in sobs and shared with my doctor all of the things I was going through. After listening for 15 minutes, she asked me, "Is there anyone in your family who is drug- or alcohol-addicted?"
It stopped me in my tracks for a second, completely confused as to why she would be asking this. The only thing I could think was that my brother is an alcoholic. But that didn't develop until he was about 19 and I was mostly out of the house. I couldn't figure out why that might affect me. Obviously alcoholism and addiction was something I had never considered.
I told her about my brother, then asked why she had mentioned it. She proceeded to describe herself - a pleaser who judges herself constantly and without mercy. A person who has difficulty having fun. Someone who takes herself very seriously and has difficulty with intimate relationships. Overreacts to changes over which she has no control. Is super responsible and constantly seeks approval and affirmation. Feels that she is different from other people.
She was describing me.
She proceeded to tell me about Al-Anon, the support group for families of addicts and alcoholics, and how she realized that she was that way because of her father and his addiction. Over the past year, since that day, I have been trying to figure out how my brother's alcoholism could have affected me in the same way, and I'd just about dismissed the theory. It didn't make any sense to me.
Until tonight, when I made the connection between my own behavior and my son's behavior. How my erratic behavior, caused by my depression, made my son the way he was. And how, when I got treated, my son became the kid everyone wants to have.
It makes me wonder - if my dad had admitted, all those years ago, and not just admitted but accepted, that he was depressed - would I be different? Would my brother be the alcoholic he is? Would I have put my son through what I did? Would I have been happy? Without drugs?
There were many times, as I was yelling at my son or puffing up and stomping down the hall because I was so enraged, when a little voice at the back of my mind reminded me how much I was acting like my dad. And I hated it. I HATED how I was acting, HATED how angry I was at what I KNEW was an insignificant thing, HATED that I didn't know how to stop reacting the way that I was reacting. But there was also that little voice that whispered, "You act this way because it is what you learned." And I always thought, in answer to that, that I didn't have to act that way just because my dad did. But I guess that voice was a lot quieter than the first one. Because I didn't really hear it until I wasn't depressed anymore.
And it wasn't until tonight that I realized what that voice was trying to tell me - that my dad was depressed too. Which I've known all along but didn't really start thinking until recently, as I put together the pieces of the puzzle that have been sitting in front of my face for so long. The withdrawal from our family as he sat in front of his computer screen in his office for hours on end (we always called it his "hole" when I was a kid), the fact that he never played with me or my brother growing up, the fact that he only seemed happy when he was in charge, the fact that he left my mom for a month for no reason other than the fact that she "didn't pay enough attention" to him. The fact that as my brother's behavior and mental health declined, he got angrier at all of us. And the two times that he left notes intimating that he was going to commit suicide.
The worst part of all this? The fact that he won't admit it. He's old school. He's a control freak who won't accept that he might need to be dependent on anyone else for help. He can't see how his depression affected us. And how it's still affecting my mom.
I'm just hoping that now - now that I've seen this, now that I've had this breakthrough and realize why I am the way I am, and why my family is the way it is - I'm hoping that now I'll have the strength to say what I need to say to him. Because I see that he's not the bad guy in all this. I see that it isn't his fault, because I've been through it myself. I know exactly how that little voice in the back of his mind sounds, and I know what it's like to shut. it. the. hell. up.
I know how much better life can be. I just hope that my realization helps make life a little better for my dad too. Because he's a good man, just as my son is a wonderful kid. And maybe, if he gets help like I did, our family can see what a good man he really is.
I love you! Just thought I would start with that. I'm thrilled things with your son have been going so much better. We all have memories of being not the parent we hoped, but some darker scarier version. At least the good parents do I think. It's the parents that don't think about the times they have let their kids down that worry me, the ones that just keep going on with business as usual. Those parents that look back on the times they were not the perfect parent, are the ones who strive to change into the parents they want to be. They are the ones who lift their kids up give them the confidence to not only succeed, but to also be themselves. Your kids are lucky to have you, as are your family and friends. It's sad your dad has missed out on so much of his life, and yours. Who knows what life would have been like for your family had things been different. It must be so hard for you to see him suffer from something you understand and feel powerless to make him fix. We will talk soon.
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