I live with my daughter and that’s great. Expect for the part where I don’t get to have a life because she won’t let me have women over and wants me to die alone. Not so great. That’s underneath there in my mind, my fears and frustrations speaking – not so much related to reality.
When she has been with me, I have been raising her on my own since she was 4, so for about 18 years now. Ok.. the raising part is mostly over since she turned 18, so lets call it 14 years. In the beginning I thought that I could bring girlfriends over, and that would be great. Maybe we could become a real family, have another kid and live together happily ever after. Well that didn’t happen. For many reasons. In my mind I think that her being here was a major one. Not that I would give up a minute of my time with her. In the beginning she would call a new partner Mother after meeting her only say maybe twice.. and I would see her sadness when that woman stopped coming, and she asked where she went. It broke my heart to see her looking for a mother and being disappointed again and again. So I quickly stopped bringing people over except for when she was with her mother. This way I got a week here, 2 weeks here.. and then as the years passed a month on/off “duty”. Of course that didn’t work out well. Noone wanted to be together only every other week or even month. So they left. Sometimes I tried. I brought us together, but always something happened – the kids didn’t get along. An ex just wouldn’t let her actually be here with me, and so on. Women often felt that they needed to come first (without their own children of course, otherwise that would never have risen its ugly head). Add to that the epilepsy – faked and real – and even in the weeks where I was able to meet women and spend time with them, I was still on call. At any minute, day or night, I could get a call, drop anything and go pick up Tara and take her to the hospital, or sometimes just go there directly to meet her. And women left. I understand.. I can’t fault them for feeling that there was no time where WE could just BE together… just us, just focusing on each other. I was always on call. I remember there was a time where I was thinking about takiing her and moving to Canada, but just the thought of trying to find a job where I would be allowed to leave abruptly, at any moment to take care of business… well.. that was daunting. I couldn’t see it happening. So I stayed. With a bit of resentment inside. Added to other bits of resentment. As things developed, I was rarely ‘allowed’ or able to have anyone stay over, or even really to make room for a woman in my life. When I was dating, I often felt as though my daughter was unconsciously (I hope) sabotaging my relationship.
We had lots of couchsurfers .. lots and lots and lots. And both I and my daughter really enjoed having most of them over – and learned to avoid others. Sometimes she would say that she needed some space without people for a bit, and I would try to respect that – except when people were already booked to come. Yes… sometimes I ignored her request. I live here too.. No way thats fair if she gets to make the rules for me. I’m the parent!
Then I got a year to myself! Freedom! She went abroad for an exchange program and I got used to being able to have a woman sleep over, walk around naked in my appartment. Sit on the couch and watch a movie, cook, eat.. just BE in my home, and it was great. But yes, I did miss her. Of course I did. I love her to no end. And then she came back and moved in for full time. No weeks at her mothers… no on again off again, but all ON. Always HERE!
I am the parent. I should be able to have anyone I want come over, whenever I want. Why should I have to answer to my daughter? How come she gets to veto visitors, and yes, she does get to do this since I know that she is perfectly capable of causing a scene, or just not leaving us alone at all – just to express her dissatisfaction…
and oh GOD does that ever piss me off!!
She has repeatedly asked me to let her know if someone is coming over, or might be coming over. And I feel like I am the kid in my own household. It’s just so frustrating. It’s my appartment – why should I have to hide in my bedroom with a guest as if I were a teenager or something.. This is ridiculous. I want to be able to be in my appartment, with whomever I desire to be with, when the possibility arises. Covid didn’t help – her in homeoffice in her room meant that even daytime was occupied. It felt very tight, claustrophobic. I’ll just call my daughter T from here on in to make it shorter. So, T makes this feel impossible, and I found myself “forgetting” to mention that I’m bringing someone over. Or not telling here in time (because I didn’t myself know that the meeting might lead to that) or.. or. and we fight. Loudly. And it feels like shit. for myself. for my guest. for T too. It’s not good. And hidden in my psyche I still held that idyllic image in my mind that T would come home, be happy to see that someone is there, someone that I feel good with, and who enjoys being with me, and that she would just introduce herself, go into her room and all would be good and everyone would get along. Cue the happy music and fluffy animals.. Well that certainly never worked.
No matter how calmly you try to referee, parenting will eventually produce bizarre behaviour, and I’m not talking about the kids!
Bill Cosby
Yesterday someone gave me feedback on my dynamic with T. Basically they held up a mirror for me (thank you!) and I really didn’t like what I saw. So time to take a really good look at myself and change something. I finally sat down to talk to T (okok we were standing – so what!), and she started by saying that if the women were REAL girlfriends, then that would be different, but since often they are in other relationships, then what I have with them is patently “not real”. If I had a real woman that I was dating, with future prospects… then.. even then, only a couple times a week. WHAT. NO! She knows about ENM, poly… she even has been in a relationship with a man who had multiple partners – so no idea why she is so judgy about this. Listening more, I discovered that she’s afraid for me – that I’ll be alone, that I’ll get hurt again as she has seen before. She’s been trying to protect me just as I have been trying to protect her and we’ve both been fucking it up and yelling at each other. I also still had in the back of my head the desire to make a happy little family – have dinner together, do stuff together… but that ship has sailed years ago.. Time to let go. If she get’s along with a partner of mine, great. If not, then at least she can be civil. I’ve felt a lot of resentment towards her for telling me what she thinks about women that I bring home. Resentment not because she is wrong, but rather because she is more often right, and I know that its not good for me, that we’re on really different levels for example, that I shouldn’t be in that relationship, but here kicks in my pattern of dating from a place of scarcity. If anyone is interested in me I had better say yes, even if I don’t quite feel it, because that’s a miracle, and otherwise I will die alone. Something clicked in Montenegro, and I think I can let go of that. I want to meet women with whom we can rise to meet one another, neither holding the other back, or having to hide parts of who we are. Mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually.. the full package.
But I digress… or well.. not but sortof.. everything is relevant to the moment. I discovered that I felt guilty even thinking about telling T that I was going to bring someone over and for her to “not be at home”.. or in her room. Because she lives here too, and I can’t put her out on the streets just because. Put her out on the streets. Now I know that she has friends she can stay with if I tell her in time, or she can stay the night at her mother’s house (which still makes me feel guilty, sincs I know what it is/was like over there). But that is HER CHOICE. She just wants to be able to be fully relaxed and free when she is here, and not be surprised/uncomfortable in her own home. It took a while, but it became clear when she asked me to treat it the same as if an old friend of mine were staying here for a while and I wanted to bring someone over. What would I do. Well.. obviously I would let him know and either ask him to go out for a while, or make himself scarce, since obviously I would do the same for him if he.. Oh.. OOH.. So.. treat me like you would treat him she said. OH. I am living with a small adult. I mean I don’t know where I could/would go if she asked me not to be home since she’s bringing someone over – I don’t even know where my girlfriends live…. strange that- maybe because most live with their main partner.. but even when not.. not even then. hm. I need to take a look at that dynamic – another time. In any case.. I could go to my garden.. or.. maye ask a friend if I could crash there. I just always felt like I am the adult. I should make the rules dammit.. its my appartment!! I’ve lived here 23 years!! Oh.. and she has lived here for 22… oops. That makes it her home just as much – not legally, but even more so emotionally. I’ve had many homes. This is her HOME. The ONLY place that she has known since day 1 which is stable, and has always been here for her.
Maybe because being both mother and father roles over the years I’ve had to make rules and then bend/break them, and I just with sometimes that there could once have been a dynamic in which I set a rule and that was that. But it wasn’t. Ever. That sort of makes me feel like a father failure – no follow through or consequences or backbone to speak of (another topic someday).
Back to the topic It’s time to treat T like an adult (one that only washes the dishes when absolutely necessary, and is still a work in progress). We discussed the rules with me paying attention from a different place. Not frustration, or anger, or a feeling of dismissal since she’s the child and my house – my rules. I’ve been a bit of a dick. Sorry T. Let’s try to make this work properly. I love you.
Better Off Not Spoken 