No son of mine
I will always remember when I made sense of this song, when it resonated with my own life, when I finally heard someone talking about something that happened to me, when I visualised there was no point trying to talk to such people, because they will never acknowledge the pain they cause to others and amend themselves. I was in my early 40s.
The lyrics express what an adult goes through when he goes back to parents he flew away from in his youth. As he thinks he is going to confront them, he finds himself blamed by his father for abandoning him and his mother. Like in the past, his voice is not heard, his feelings are dismissed, the shortcomings of the parental behaviours are not acknowledged by the wrong-doers. No. The wrong-doers keep wrong-doing. Not just with their children. They wrong whoever they ensnare. They buy people with gifts too lavish for the occasion: friends, children, lovers... They always buy people with the plan to get something more worthy out of the transaction, and they get it. Then, when the other party can't have it anymore, they get angry and smash their toys.
These people are sick. They are stuck in their traumas. One day they find the perfect partner with whom they can just stay there and bask in their comfort level, way below mediocrity. Yet, at the beginning, there is this possibility to get rid of at least some traumas.
It took me a few more years in order to realise that the mother of my children had taken onto stabbing me. At first it was subtle: the children were her pawns. Then it became overt, and she used friends and family to hurt deeper. One day I told her that I wouldn't have it anymore, As an answer she popped the divorce question. On the third time I said yes, but she keeps telling anyone that I asked for it. These people don't take responsibility for the indigence of their behaviour towards others.
Recently a friend talked me into resurrecting one of my old projects, something started 4 years ago and abandoned for lack of finding a market. He had not collaborated to the project in the first place. He had a plan to get a public funding body to fork two salaries for two years in order to develop the project commercially. He took the helm to pitch the fund people, he refused to check the state of the market in order to fuel the pitch talk with the usual meat required for this exercise, he played time to force me into meetings with not even half-arsed slide decks... A few minutes after the last presentation, I wrote to him that his behaviour had too many of the characteristics of the people I don't want to interact with. I wrote that I wished the project to be accepted, but that in order for me to work with him he would need to change his ways. I haven't heard from him since. Unsurprisingly, 10 days later the fund told us they didn't want our project for... lack of clarity on the potential market.
What I have described used to be a serious blind spot of mine, and I've been through many more of these scenarii. I have been very slow at dealing with it, but I don't call it a blind spot anymore. I get faster and faster at detecting these people, at verbalising the issues, at confronting the offenders about the issues, and at putting myself out of harm when the offenders show no indication they (are interested in) understand(ing) the harm they've done and show no determination to stop.
And then I met this special person with whom I am able to tell that I just got triggered, who stops everything to allow me to move along the string that leads me to the trauma, who hears what comes through and helps me verbalise the whole behaviour – from the stimulus to the stored reaction. Indeed, I do that for her as well. After that I can do my thing: remove the button, rewire the whole thing, replace the reaction I don't like with one that feels more appropriate to me... I disconnect the trauma from my life (without purging it from my memory, it would make no sense...). She has her own way. We heal together. I believe this is an important feature of loving someone.
For this post, it feels right to thank my friend G. for asking me whether I would go and confront my mother (see my previous post). Things get clearer when I can write about them. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.