Healing Takes a Long Time
My parents married young, as was typical in the ’60s. A decade into their marriage, he was caught with our babysitter. He eventually left our mom and married her, but that only lasted a few years. My dad then played the knight in shining armor to a succession of young women who were ‘down on their luck.’
It was the same pattern over and over. They were always about the same age–late teens to early twenties. It didn’t matter how old my dad got, or how much older we, his children, were compared to them.
Ultimately, his work took him to the Philippines, and he became involved with a young woman there. He said they were just friends and all of his many trips there were apparently to help her and her family.
We rolled our eyes. Eventually, our dad informed us he married her so she could come to Canada for a better life. We were taken aback when he told us her age—she is about five years younger than the youngest one of us. I don’t have any beef with her.
She’s kind, decent, and hardworking, albeit too submissive and deferential to my dad. I’m sure that’s part of what he likes about her. My problem is really with my dad alone, who has repeatedly proven himself to be a self-centered narcissist fixated on younger women.
He congratulates himself for ‘saving’ all these people and helping them out of their miserable lives when he’s never used the time of day for his own kids or grandkids. He’s lied and broken promises his whole life, and for that reason, I have no respect for him.
When I got married, I would not let him walk me down the aisle. I’ve spent years in therapy trying to untangle a lot of issues surrounding my dad.
Although my head knows what he is and that I shouldn’t care about him at all, the sad reality is that part of me inexplicably still wants his love and approval. Not only has he messed up our own relationship, but he’s contributed to my own legacy of being unable to commit. Healing is a long process.