Realization

When I was very young my parents decided to get a divorce. They told me it was because "things just didn't work out anymore" between them and left it at that. I never pressed on the matter and they didn't bother to clarify further. Although, this event had changed the family dynamic drastically; my mother fought for my sole custody greatly, as she reckoned my father to be highly incompetent when it came to raising a child. Thus, she had managed to earn it and, after the settlement, my father had left the picture entirely.

The impact of the event had marked me quite deeply, but I had only came to this bitter conclusion later in life. Growing up I didn't befriend many people, I only talked to them if I was spoken to first, and I isolated myself from my peers as much as I could. This behavior, I later concluded, was more of a reaction stemming from my feelings of vulnerability and captivity rather than a voluntary action. It was my survival instinct telling me to keep away from anyone, because getting too close to others meant them having the upper-hand and taking advantage of your emotions. So, the only person I had to rely on was myself.

While I was maintaining distance from them, I managed to dedicate my time to studying thus, obtaining high grades which enabled me to pursue a higher education in psychology. Because of my own peculiar upbringing, I felt the need to understand other people's emotional turmoil and behavioral issues, and I have made it my goal to help them resolve it. The more people I have succeeded to help, the greater my happiness and ambitions became. I have felt great joy even when I made the smallest progress with my patients, and when they felt like giving up, I became ever so determined to guide them through their mental obstacles. My work had taken over my life and I became completely engulfed by it, I barely had time to make any new relationships outside of my coworkers and patients, and I had almost completely neglected my family, spending very little time with them. 

Even though my avid preoccupation with my job might have seemed like a terrible unhealthy obsession, it was short-lived and had in fact helped me reach the conclusion I had immensely dreaded, unbeknownst to me; the divorce of my parents had traumatized me. It had left me in a state of mental helplessness, feeling utterly hollow, whilst having the constant sensation of being trapped, and wholly unable to escape my state. I was not living, but merely surviving, drowning all my sentiments of confusion, anger and restlessness, instead of facing them. In my best pursuits to distract myself from this turmoil I had resorted to fully focusing on my studies and bettering the lives of as many people as I could. Nevertheless, these attempts of escaping my inner demons were in vain. No matter how much or how far I would go, they were always there, waiting for me, as if knowing beforehand I would stumble right into them.

This sudden, but long-awaited realization has hit me when my father had called me. After his sudden departure from my life he has tried several times to reach out to me and to settle a mutual agreement between us to see each other yearly. The plan had failed not because of his careful, dotting involvement in my interests and my needs, but because of my coldness, unreceptiveness and my hatred towards him and the whole situation. After a few yearly unsuccessful tries he had ultimately abandoned the whole plan. We had instead settled on text messages to keep in touch, but their scarcity rapidly increased in time. Having those aspects in mind, one would be quite shocked to find out their estranged father would call them so unexpectedly.

I had answered the phone with a trembling hand, feeling my face grow shades paler and I took a seat just in case. The call was short and simple; he had merely wanted to see me and my mother both. His motives were undisclosed, but his voice was lively and it felt inconvenient to turn him down, especially after he mentioned my mother had already agreed to this meeting. After the call I couldn't help but burst into tears; whether it was due to my father's sudden request, my shocking realization or both, I could not tell. Despite everything, the outburst felt welcoming and reliving, as if I had poured out all the pent-up stress, anxiety and emotions I had kept hidden, sealed up inside of my own body until I felt like I was truly freed. I had known, however, that a good cry would not solve all my troubles and that I had a long way to get there, but it was definitely a good start. It had gave me a new perspective on things and it had planted in me the tiniest seed of courage, but it was everything I needed to face my parents.

The best place for our meeting, we decided, was my office, as it was a middle ground for all of us, holding no bad memories or energy, while still being a place of comfort and safety for myself. They arrived at the same time, indicating to me that they had previously spoken about this meeting long before I had been involved. This observation has brought back quite the memories.

They each took a seat and my mother started the speech. She has explained to me how she quietly kept in touch with my father all throughout those years, how after their divorce she has felt terribly guilty about her actions, and how she spent those years trying to get at the very least on neutral terms with her ex-husband. It was not an easy thing, because there were days where her feeling of guilt and regret would swallow her whole and she felt like giving up. And my father didn't want to hear a thing about it at first, as his feelings were deeply wounded by her words and actions. He has begrudgingly given her the smallest chance to make up for her mistakes, but there were days when he didn't want to give her anything at all. In spite of everything though, they had persevered and had reached their goal of being amicable terms with one another.

After I listened to their story, I had my own set of questions and misunderstandings I had badly needed answered. They had spoken clearly, carefully, in a cordial, pleasant tone, being very patient and answering all my wild and infinite inquiries I had. This meeting, I had pleasantly concluded, was their way of trying to make up for all those years of anguish and confusion, all of those years of fights and cold-shoulders and distancing from one another, it was their way of trying to fix our dreadful past. They really tried in their best efforts to start to repair what has been damaged, to heal our damaged relations and to rebuild a family that was once happy and good. And the motive behind it all, was me. They had done this for me. And I was speechless. So many mixed feelings and emotions had washed over me all over again and I had felt the tears start to roll, but it wasn't because of sadness and anger, these tears came from joy and gratitude. I have felt the most blissful and content about my parents that I have ever felt. And I truly felt loved.

This meeting had brought with it a myriad of things, but the most important one was our reconciliation. We had so many things to unpack, we had so many things left unsaid, and so much lack of communication that we had to work through, that this meeting was the best thing that could have happened. It was merely the beginning of the better and improved relationship we were to have. We would undoubtedly have quite a way to go, but this time it was going to be healthy, strong and loving. And most importantly, I have found myself to care so deeply and appreciate so greatly the people that made me the person I am today, with good and bad, because our journey together is merely getting started.