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pizza-writes5001 · 5 months ago

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A Tough Needle to Thread: On Family, Growing Up, and My Relationship With Intimacy as a Cisgender Young Man

I want to, need to, tell my life story (abridged).

So here it is!

First, I want to share some background on my parents, and I'll try to be brief about that.

They both grew up in the 60s and 70s. My dad in a Mormon-ish family in a small town in Alaska, that only existed because of the oil pipeline and a military base (the latter being the reason my grandparents moved their family there); and my mom in a Catholic household in West Seattle.

Both knew a lot of hardships growing up, but both came out of each home with hearts still full of love, to my luck.

They met each other in college in Seattle, and got together in their early twenties. Kids in love. I'd have to ask, in order to find out how long they were together, but they were together long enough to have me and my brother in the early 90s; and then they were divorced in the late 90s.

In their youth, things were actually pretty great between them from everything I've heard. They had a lot of adventures together.

But after they got married and started on the prospect of having a family together, things changed.

The details here are still not completely known to me, but it was around this time that my dad began having affairs. I think there were two other women in total, but there actually may have even been a third, or even fourth, etc. I really don't know. His father had cheated on his mother, so I think somewhere in his mind he figured it was somehow okay. Anyway, there were at least two women my dad cheated on my mom with. And obviously this ate away at their marriage, but my mom continued to love my dad.

This is all sad -- I know! But understand that this is now ancient history, although the effect of the haphazard nature of their family planning still ripples in my life.

And that's actually why I'm writing all this.

If you ever met my brother, especially when he was growing up, you would say that, even as a child, he was obviously hanging onto some kind of bitter resentment. You would notice a thousand-yard stare, a palpable loneliness, and a righteous anger about this being the hand he was dealt.

If you met me when I was growing up, you would notice a boisterous, outgoing, and fun-loving kid. Somehow, happy as a kid could be basically.

It's interesting how these things happen. Because, why were my brother and I so different? And I've thought about this a lot in more recent years.

I learned things about my parents' relationship by happenstance, and then questions, and then I thought about all of it for quite a long time. I believe my mom has known the whole deal the entire time. But I think she never wanted to share her more visceral feelings on it with me because she wanted me to have a good relationship with my dad. That's my theory anyway. And it worked. I love my dad.

Given everything I've learned, I think when my parents were together my dad hadn't healed from some stuff that happened to him and his siblings in his childhood, which I won't get into here.

I think by now he feels that he’s healed as much as he needs to -- he's been to therapy, after all. And I suspect he might be right. In the end, tragically, him healing wouldn't mean my parents getting back together or anything, which I think is what my inner child would prefer. He and my mom just didn't have any business staying together in pursuit of having a family, at the time that they went for it. They weren't the right fit for that. They've both happily remarried, so I think it's safe to put that notion to bed anyway.

So, my brother being the older one, they had him first...erm, obviously.

At the time I think my dad, newly married, was feeling the pressures of a past generation, and the pressures of coming from a somewhat religious family, all weighing down on him. I think he was intimidated by the changes, a little clueless -- and not really committed to the idea of starting a family. But I think his relationship with my mom was a safe place for him at the time, them having been together since they were so young and all. But the more committed they became to settling down, the less present he was able to be. Because ultimately, he was still that scared, hurt, little boy who needed to be there for himself. But he was still far from knowing this about himself. But it was at this time in their lives that they conceived my older brother, and it's these reasons I think my brother has always carried a burden with him.

So yeah, my dad never should have committed to anybody at the time. But he was young and foolish, so, ya know.

Despite the challenges in their marriage, they charged ahead a couple years later and conceived me. I think at this time, my dad was trying to take on the role of 'father figure' with more of a sense of commitment, though I think it was a contrived one. I believe it was my dad not wanting to back down from what I think he perceived to be some challenge to his integrity, or something. So, I believe he was leaning on his ego more than rhyme or reason by this point. And maybe my mom was, too. And for my dad, there was probably also pressure from his sisters to be a loyal husband and not embarrass them, because they liked my mom. Or at least, I think, there may have been pressure to do things the right way; whatever it was he was going to do with his life.

He had a better paying job by this point and was really putting his back into the whole 'family man' role. And really, I think he's always liked having a family. And I think he always liked having a partner in marriage.

But as to whether he liked being a father and a husband? I don't know.

At the time, I think he was too young to be able to appreciate those things.

By the time of my childhood, I think the connective tissue of their marriage was wearing thin. I have tons of great memories from my childhood from when they were still together, and plenty of lovely and good vibes to remember it by, but their marriage was coming to its conclusion.

I feel that I am the product of my dad's youthful, misguided lust for life and my mom's boundless ability to love those she cares for. She loved my father. Would have gone to the ends of the earth with him I think, really.

But I think by this time their connection was standing mostly on ego and physical reciprocation. So it stands to reason that one night when I was, say, 3? Maybe 4? I went to their bedroom in our small house, their door not locked, not even closed, and there they were having sex right there on their bed.

Obviously that's fine!

But of course, I do now see this coincidence through the lens of what I know after everything I've learned.

And maybe I'm making a mountain out of a molehill here, maybe I'm misinterpreting; but it seems to me the desperation of not locking the door, not even closing it, when they knew I was in a big phase of preferring to sleep in their bed (it was more often than not at that age), it feels...reckless to me, I guess. Rushed. As though, aside from sex, nothing would make their marriage feel any better to be in. It's possible I'm projecting, but I get the sense that my thinking here is on the right track, even if I may be missing details that may inform this account better.

I laid on the bed while they were doin' it (they didn't notice me right away) because I had no idea what they were doing. Not judgmental, not traumatized, just confused by this mysterious thing they were doing. And then they noticed I was there, and they quickly stopped and got dressed etc., and let me sleep in their bed.

At the time my dad had said to me that they were just "hugging and kissing", a rushed explanation that maybe should have just been replaced with 'the talk', but I can understand the need to say something, anything. To explain it, somehow, in this unique situation they were in. I wonder, had it been a more copacetic relationship, if this memory would be more funny than confusing. It is kinda funny tho.

Anyway, two or three years later, they were divorced. My dad was less present in our lives as time went by, but he’s always made the effort he’s been able to. To this day he makes an honest-to-god effort, to help us succeed. But he always had his own life to tend to, his path to find.

And then it was just my mom, me, and my brother in the house, my mom holding it down, working full time. My dad paid child support, and then some. At first, we would see him every other weekend for a while; sometimes more, sometimes less (he would leave for Alaska again when I turned 15 and be pretty much out of the picture by then except for phone calls, occasional visits, and financial assistance). But the cracks all started to show in our family's adhesiveness. To be honest, it seems like there are still cracks that are just now revealing themselves, and I'm 31 now. But now it feels like those cracks are filling with gold, a beautiful thing I may write about.

Somehow, for really no logical reason, I learned shame at a very young age. And that, combined with being left alone in the house a lot; and in my highschool years learning a bad habit of relying on drugs, all led me to a learned pattern of spiraling. Truthfully, I think if weed had been legal at the time I could have avoided some of the harder drugs and pastimes I chased so much.

Following that, growing up in a rural area, when both of my parents were still in a more metropolitan mindset, I started to feel so disconnected. I always considered myself to be a more metropolitan person, although I deeply cherish time spent bushwhacking and being outdoors. But culturally, I’ve always felt I belonged somewhere with more people with more varying mindsets and opinions, or if that’s a misinterpretation, I want to be somewhere where there’s more to do than just drink at a bar somewhere. It's never really felt like the right venue for me.

Add to that, the drugs and the spiraling caused me to push people away whom I cared about. So that by the time I was 25, I had no friends left, and had been experiencing the most profound loneliness that would persist until, well to be honest, now, at age 31. Because honestly, it can be really hard to reach out in these circumstances.

And now I'm unhappy with Meta, so it doesn't feel like reaching out by Facebook is something I'd like to do. And I'm not even sure it's the right thing anyway. And therapy costs money that I don’t have. I do have things in motion but they’re moving…so…damn...slowly

But anyway. My life has been a lesson in discerning truths in an environment where people shine you on, or lean on ego to explain away complicated feelings and relationship dynamics. And too often it seemed like they expected me to be a solution to all their problems, so there was always that pressure (although their faith in that notion came with perks, a combination that I think stuck me in a sort of gilded cage).

I'm becoming an expert at being alone, though my family is now a fantastic support system that I can lean on. But I wish things weren't like this, although I think things are getting better in my life. But I still live in the middle of nowhere and am jobless because of the sheer challenge of having to cope with the wake of this destruction. And am still feeling alone because it's so hard to meet somebody who can appreciate you, and hard to meet somebody you can appreciate in turn.

So...the moral of the story is don't have kids unless you have a strong, informed urge to do so. Lol

#prose #mental health #divorce #healing

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