Dad

Standing at the water’s edge

Wrapped in your arms

Warm and safe

I looked at you and said

I’m still cold so don’t let go,

Stay with me awhile

I really just wanted to keep you close

Remembering makes me smile

(Where Are You Now? from Fearless Moral Inventory, by Juliet A. Wright, copyright 2007, all rights reserved.)

My father was a very strong person.  He could be the kindest, warmest, most outgoing man I’d ever met.  He could also turn on me in a second, give me a holler and an icy stare that would stop me in my tracks and chill me to the bone.  He never hit me.  He never had to resort to that.  A stern look and a yell were all it took to scare me stiff.

My father gave me a lot.  He put me through school, and provided a roof over my head, food in my belly and, at times, love in my heart.  I’m very grateful to him for all of that.  

I don’t know much about his childhood, except that he was sent to military school when he was young.  I guess he was unruly.  This is hard to imagine, but my dad had been known to be a hell raiser at times. 

He really hated military school.  For one thing, he said the food there was really awful.  One night he and some buddies stole a chicken, brought it back to their room, plucked it and cooked the chicken over a candle.  Yuck!  I guess it was awful and made them all sick.  No wonder. 

Dad was an actor too.  That’s how he met Mom.  They met on Broadway in New York.  He also had a law career until he got disbarred in 1971 for conflict of interest.

I have really good memories of my father during the early years.  I was only around four years old when I sailed our Morgan 34 yacht in Lake Champlain.  He was proud of me.

I remember one time we were either sitting near Lake Champlain or our pond, I don’t remember which.  He was holding me in my towel, keeping me warm. I had been with him for a while and wasn’t really that cold anymore, but my sister was getting out of the water and I wanted him all to myself.

“I’m still cold, Daddy,” I said, fibbing. 

“I know you are,” he said, taking my cue and holding me tighter.  That was one of the few times I remember him being there for me.

The next happiest memory I have of Dad and me was one late summer afternoon when we went to the pond to feed the fish and got caught in a downpour.  We hid together underneath an old table.  He and I were already soaked to the skin, but we laughed the whole time. In those few moments, I felt close to him.  There were no problems, just us and the joy of a sudden Vermont thunderstorm. 

When I was 15, I finally won a blue ribbon at a major horse show.  I was so happy about it that I cried in his arms.  I was finally good enough.  And he was sweet and comforted me. He didn’t lay blame for being emotional like he usually did.  I really appreciated that.

Times like those were few and far between for Dad and me.  It’s not like he never expressed love or pride or gratitude for me but he didn’t do it very often. I remember his absence more than anything.  He never seemed to be home.

I don’t agree with much of the way my father lived his life, but I accept it.  I do acknowledge that there is a reason I chose him to be my father. There were lessons I needed to learn from him.

My father died of complications from Alzheimer’s disease in February of 2003. 

In the end, I have respect and love for the man that was my father.  I do think I made peace with him before he died. I am grateful to Dad for all he gave me and for all I learned from him.

Juliet’s Codependency Patterns

I am not conscious of my own moods, I am conscious of your moods.

If you’re happy, I’m happy.

Your moods and actions are my fault.

If you hurt, I hurt; I think I have to fix you.

It’s difficult for me to recognize my moods or articulate them.

I am inclined to diminish, change, or refute my moods.

If you like me, I like me.

If you think I’m good, I think I’m good.

Your customs and thoughts are always right. I’m always wrong. 

I am obsessed with making you happy, with saving you.

I shower you with favors and pleasures to make you stay.

My fear of abandonment and fear of rejection determine how I behave.

Please don’t get mad at me, I’ll do or be whatever you say.

Please don’t get mad at me, I’ll feel however you want me to feel.

I think I have to be perfect and so do you.  Nothing less will do.

I am less than.

Juliet’s Feelings

This is all my fault, I did something wrong.

They are right, I am wrong.

They are going to abandon me.

They are going to reject me.

I don’t deserve good things.

I am less than.

I am ashamed.

I’m bad and now everyone knows it.  I’ll be alone forever.

Different from everyone

I am only worth what I accomplish.

I’m not good enough to be here.

Now that I am an adult, I have done my recovery work to eliminate these behavior and feelings patterns from my life and replace them with behaviors and feelings patterns that work better for me. I do this through attending meetings, doing step work, meetings with my sponsor, journaling, time with my Higher Power whom I choose to call God, meditation, positive affirmations, slogans, service work, gratitude lists and gratitude journals.