What I Learned From Hating My Father-In-Law

And the pain of learning lessons

I hate that I’m writing this.

Any time spent thinking or speaking about that man, letting his image sit in my brain; well, that’s too much time for me.

If I never saw my father-in-law again it would be too soon.

But that’s not what THIS article is about.

If you missed my extremely biased profile build-up, look no further. The context is helpful for what you’re about to read.

How A Son-In-Law Learned To Hate A Father-In-Law.

When a papa bear meets an alpha male

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See, I’ve never hated anyone before. It feels wrong. It’s consuming and heavy like a bag of concrete balanced on your shoulders; up and down ladders, in the grocery store, walking my kids to the car, making love.

I wake up and I think about it. When my thoughts slip between the spaces of focus and relaxation, when my anxieties fade in moments of comfort and ease — his face is there, ebbing its way into my vision the way the sun flutters between clouds.

As I lay in bed at night thinking of my children’s laughter, the joys of the day just lived, and the tasks awaiting me tomorrow; always without fail, I begin to hear his voice.

It’s like a mole in my brain, digging around looking for opportunity. It ruins moments of quiet contemplation and taints the spaces that I retreat to for recovery.

I’m generally tilt-proof. My temper meter runs long and cool. I pride myself on that.

But this man; he crosses a line for me. I see fire in my eyes. My sympathetic nervous system kicks into high gear. Fight or flight instantly becomes destroy and mame.

I’ve hated my father-in-law for a long time.

Too long.

I let it control me. I let it have power over me. I let it affect my marriage, my relationship with my kids, my general disposition. This is the power of hate.

If you let it in, it will root down as a tree by a river thrives, gulping water and nutrients; like a virus latching to a cell. It feeds on you, makes you think you need more of it, and convinces you it’s the only way.

But it is not.

Finding Forgiveness

I’ve held on to my hatred far too long and I’m tired. I’m tired of this feeling. I’m tired of its consumption of my soul. I’m tired of being controlled.

As I’ve said before, forgiveness isn’t about the other person. It’s about you. It’s FOR you. Forgiveness frees you from the weight of hatred and severs the siphoning tether to it.

I’m working on me. That is all anyone can do. We control nothing else in this small fragile world.

In forgiveness, I have found peace and in peace, I have renewed hope. Hope shines light where there was blackness and stain.

With hope, there is —

Confidence

To stand up for core values, for family, for things important and deep; holding fast at the doorway, putting your foot down, and drawing uncompromising unyielding lines around what you believe and trust.

Confidence isn’t confrontation. But, sometimes it is.

You CAN say “no.” It’s a one-word sentence and perfectly appropriate to use as such.

You have the authority, the right, the freedom to stand firm in the face of opposition.

You can expect some measure of discomfort, a healthy dose of falling out, and chattering whispers in the darkness as people spread lies about you.

They’ll come after you in the night and smile in the day. Watch out, enemies are made when you stand tall.

But that’s okay. They were enemies already. Now you know who they are so you can start throwing up some boundaries.

Redemption

Too early to tell, but soon. A move, a change, a healing; a chance to start over and try again.

It will never work without forgiveness; my forgiveness. I have to own that. We each play a part.

I can’t tell you if it will be easy or profitable, even. But a story becomes a journey in the crossing of lessons and life; something learned, something gained, maybe something lost.