My father taught me strength of character above all other things. He used to grill me on ‘if.’ ‘What would I do if…’ When he was relaxed, and the subject not close to his heart, the answers were flexible. They could be argued, and a debate would ensue on the differences until one of us agreed. It was never a draw. We just weren’t the kind of people who accepted a draw.
However, if the question was asked when he wasn’t calm, or the issue entirely too close to his heart, he would rage if I didn’t somehow know the right answer. These lessons taught me several things:
Watch. Study. Listen - If I observed him, studied his nature, how he responded to other people, I could almost mimic his answers word for word. The answers usually were a little more harsh than I would normally have given, but to save myself the headache (or any other ache) of argument, I would spout back my carefully learned answers when the ‘if’ questions came about.
Think Ahead. - Watch for potential ‘if’ questions, answer them silently in my head until they were perfected. If I thought I still didn’t have the answer…
Seek outside help. - My mother was useless with these kind of things, my sister, equally so. I often went to the store to purchase something for one of them, and the shopkeeper would answer my odd questions with few of his own. I digested his, and hopefully came up with the right answer.
When I didn’t…
Self - Doubt - Beat myself up, repeat whatever he said to me over and over in my head until I could write it verbatim weeks later.
In all of this, it took me ages to unlearn my father’s answers. At some point, I stopped reciting them, and adopted them instead. Perhaps it was rage, driven by being his puppet, that brought out the sadist in me, perhaps it was genetic and as simple as just being his son that did it. He was dominant, I am dominant.
When I lost those two years I found a lot about myself that was wrong. In the time since, I’ve reshaped my thought process to allow some simple things.
Watch. Study. Listen. - The situation. For in doing so, I have a complete picture upon which to base my opinion.
Think Ahead. - Have an idea of the curve balls I face as a person. Know my own triggers, insulate them. Determine what action I’d take now, rather than when the emotion breaks upon me.
Seek Outside help. - Therapy, if I need it. Or better, a good friend who doesn’t mind telling me that I’m an asshole.
Accept that I am allowed to be wrong. - The hardest lesson of all. I force myself to accept that I sometimes fail, but it is always a bitter pill to swallow and I often choke. This lesson I learn anew with each failure.
Or did he teach you control, above all things? How to control, how to be controlled. And self-control …
Or perhaps I am projecting, for my father - bless - sounds much like yours.
Do you truly believe that dominance and/or sadism could be genetic? That people could be predisposed, on some biochemical-genetic level, to need power? Or conversely, to give it over?
I wonder about this, now and again, not just as an innately submissive woman, but because my daughter is exactly like me, while my son is as dominant as his father (and they are both under ten, but it is already glaringly obvious). And this has in no way been deliberate, on my part. (If anything, I’ve done my level best to consciously avoid instilling such behavioral responses in them. But it seems to come from a deeply seated place, one that parenting alone cannot reach).
So reading the words of a man such as yourself — a self-proclaimed dominant/sadist — is fascinating.
Perhaps it is only propinquity, that he was dominant, and you are. That I am submissive, and my daughter is. Nature, nurture, patterning — random chance?
Comment by Beth — August 25, 2008 @ 5:14 pm
Nice to know you’ve found your own way and answers, though for someone as determined as you are, it was just a matter of time before you could no longer accept anyone else’s.
Also nice to know you appreciate being called an asshole from time to time. Even one such as yourself needs to rocket back to earth once in a while. I do know I have had several occasions to berate you thusly. All for your own good, of course, my friend.
I always think I need to do the opposite, be less accepting of being wrong, be harder on myself.
Comment by Tess — August 25, 2008 @ 7:23 pm
Someone, whose name I don’t recall, said that when very young, most children unconditionally love their parents. At puberty, children fight against their parents. As mature adults, children sometimes forgive them. The hardest lesson for me was learning to admit and say ‘I don’t know.’ If interested, one can always add the tag ‘but I’ll find out,’ but if uninterested, there is no obligation whatsoever.
Comment by Kaz — August 26, 2008 @ 12:48 pm
i’ve been called an anomaly … probably by people who don’t even know the definition of the word … because i am the way i am. Deeply geared to please, submissive perhaps, a slave? Eh … who knows? Anyone who reads me regularly knows how i feel about labels.
The nature vs. nurture thing, though. Hm. i’ve never been abused, i come from a “normal” family with two parents who are (to all appearances) equal partners in the relationship. They love each other … and that love only continues to grow after 42 years of marriage.
i was not raised submissive. i was not raised, actually, to be anything except a polite, conscientious member of society … and yet i seek relationships ever more depraved, men ever more sadistic, and a life ever more dark.
i don’t know that there is any one explanation for why we become who we are … but i do think people often try to find someone to blame, when they aren’t happy with what they’ve become.
Present company excepted, of course.
elise
Comment by MangledTulip — August 26, 2008 @ 5:08 pm
Forgive the second comment, but Elise’s remarks prompt it. Interesting that the definition of amalgam is a mixture of metal and mercury, because my visual and emotional memories say that is a good definition of human personality. And I agree with Elise; we are not simply nature and nurture, but a amalgamation of all we’ve seen, heard and experienced, some of which can not be explained, even by the most seasoned therapist.
I sincerely doubt that any of us could rationally explain the who, how, and why of ourselves. All of that, even the unknown, is the ‘truth’ of us, and no one will ever find the exact same truth for themselves because they have not experienced the exact same things at the exact moment and in the exact same manner as we have. I am a firm believer in the benefit of introspection, but I also believe we must include one grain of salt - a salt grain that tells us nothing involving the human psyche can ever be exact. Perfection, like concrete answers, will always elude us.
Comment by Kaz — August 27, 2008 @ 4:28 pm
Thank you for writing this. My experience is almost identical to yours. The only reason I am even alive today is because, like you, I was able to unlearn what my dad “taught” me. It was hard for me to accept that his word was not the word of god.
Acceptance is the key to healing and I hate it. I hate it when I have to accept that I may be wrong about how terrible this life really is. I hate that I have to admit to myself the possibility of being wrong about this when I KNOW that am I right. Survival, for me at least, is and will always be a constant exercise in humility.
Comment by Shell — August 27, 2008 @ 7:23 pm
Sitting here with these thoughts, listening to Alice In Chains ~ Unplugged (one of my old favs) and you have my thoughts churning.
Perhaps i am simply re-stating the obvious.
However…
Although i agree that many events/things/words are unforgettable, and there are still others that are truly unforgiveable, we have to find a way to heal, or else…
God knows, i too, have done my share of time on ‘the angry chair’…pity pot, choose your adjective.
Therefore, i believe it’s about just that; Forgiveness And Acceptance…of ourselves and those who have pained us. Hate is a baneful condition, capable of so much more than simple destruction. We must learn to embrace and love the person we have become, and find some peace there. The ‘art of letting go’ is not so easily accomplished when we, in our human condition, are geared so heavily toward reciprocity - both the good, and the bad kind.
It’s stilling the voices of the past - the ones that may have left scars, and replacing them with a more nurturing voice; our own.
It isn’t a passive journey. It requires introspection, patience, resurrection of old pains, and the stamina and will to work through them, but the rewards are remarkable and enlightening (and freeing).
Although i have been forced to see with eyes adjusted to the dark - my heart can still sometimes soar.
We are all, mere sparkles in the dark…evolving. Searching for meaning.
Moreover, sometimes those of us who suffer most, bring the greatest joy to others…we are just not allowed to feel, so that they might. Then the floe thaws. Everything has it’s time, in this circle of life.
It isn’t failure to me, but emotional ‘fine tuning.’
This one goes out to you, Dae: What a Shame ~ Shinedown
And now, the desert beckons, so i think i’ll go wander awhile. It’s getting cold in the desert night now. Winter is on his way. So, when i can’t take the chill anymore, i’ll find my way back and curl up with my cats, and drift off to dream.
Comment by gd — September 1, 2008 @ 1:59 am
I applaud your ability to remake yourself in your own image.
So many times, we exist as half-baked creations, left to somehow finish on internal heat alone.
Your greatest gift to us, your greatest strength is to say: I might be wrong.
Our Easter bunny arrives when you say : I do not know.
For if you can be wrong, if you do not know, then we too, are able to be wrong and/or unknowing.
Gracias, Tiburón.
Comment by princess — September 2, 2008 @ 9:20 pm