Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

2049

Abstract

lready, with my dad moving out and my mom trying to cope. I was only 13 and not sure what the future would hold or what my parents even wanted. But to see it there, in writing, that each child was welcome except me — it was too much for my insecure teenage self to handle. It hurt so deeply that I avoided going back to my Dad’s house. We did not make the transition into a split-family with ease. It took years before I trusted him again.<h1 id="4f3f">How Could I Forget?</h1>This incident had happened decades before the apology. Although the experience profoundly shaped the relationship I would develop with my dad, as the years rolled on, I actually forgot about it.I forgot about the flagstone moment that summed up my childhood experience of rejection. It wasn’t an isolated event. But it was the headliner for several years.How do you forget something like that? I don’t know, but I did.That’s why I was so confused when my Dad apologized. He said he hadn’t understood at the time, but after years of reflection, now understood and was sorry that he had hurt me that way.How do you react to an apology for a life-altering event that you have entirely blocked from your memory?I figured it must not have been that big of a deal if I don’t even remember it. So I forgave him, and the conversation ended.<h1 id="18aa">And Then I Remembered</h1>As the days passed after his visit was over and he had made the long drive home, I began to remember. Not just what had happened, but how it felt and the deep insecurities that moment fed into. The rejection that I had adopted as if it were my new identity. This wasn’t the first time I had felt rejection, I think it was just one too many. The feelings of rejection had become too big to overlook, and I had started living from a place of rejection.As the memories trickled back, I began to feel more and more upset. I had just easily forgive

Options

n him, told him it was no big deal because I didn’t even remember. But it was a big deal.I had missed the moment to have a real conversation about what happened. To share my feelings, be understood. I wanted that moment back. I wanted a redo on that conversation. I wanted him to feel bad for all of the things I could now remember and apologize again.I considered bringing it up again. Should I call him on the phone? Wait until his next visit? Hey, do you remember that time you apologized for rejecting me? And I forgave you? Well, I’d like to re-hash that one more time.No, that just wasn’t going to work. Not only would it be awkward and potentially mean, but we would both have to relive a painful experience — again. What good would it do?I sat with this idea for several weeks before I concluded that I needed to accept the original apology, for real this time, and let him keep the forgiveness. The fact that he had thought about that moment, tried to understand it (let’s be honest, the feelings of a teenage girl are confusing), and humbled himself to apologize — that’s huge! My dad is not a man who easily humbles himself. He has a big personality and a need to be right. All. The. Time. This apology was unprecedented.I wish I could say that all of the childhood rejection has been healed, and I am no longer dealing with those issues. I guess an apology for a single incident just can’t stretch that far. But I now see more clearly how the rejection issues piled up the way that they did and resulted in my current state. I now know that my dad cares, in his own way, at least in part. Dredging it all up again would not bring more healing or closure. It would only cause more pain.So I will take the healing that I did experience. I will take the renewed memories that help me better understand myself. I will forgive my dad and move on. Conversation over. Thanks, Dad, for doing your best.</article></body>

When My Dad Apologized

And my memories came back.

My childhood, like most, was a mix of joy and pain. Love and rejection. Protection and neglect. My parents did the best they could.

I am now doing the best I can with my children. And just like my parents, I know that when my kids grow up, I will have some apologizing to do.

The Apology

My dad’s apology caught me off guard. We don’t see each other often, and I try to avoid talking about the past. Living in the present is difficult enough without bringing up the past. It seemed as though he wasn’t aware of past hurts, and it was easier to leave it that way. That’s why I was so surprised the day he apologized.

He was visiting from out of town — I prefer to live in a separate state from my family. I love them, and we stay in touch, but I feel saner with physical distance. Too many hurts to heal, it’s just easier this way.

We were casually chatting when he brought it up, out of the blue. He apologized for rejecting me when I was a teenager. It had happened right after my parents separated. He had moved into a new home, and each of the kids had a bedroom with a personalized name sign on the door, except for me. There weren’t enough bedrooms, so I had to sleep on the couch.

It wasn’t the couch that hurt my feelings; I understood the lack of space. Paying for two households is expensive. What I wasn’t prepared for was the feeling of rejection when I saw the personalized invitations to make this new place home — for everyone except me. I was on shaky ground already, with my dad moving out and my mom trying to cope. I was only 13 and not sure what the future would hold or what my parents even wanted. But to see it there, in writing, that each child was welcome except me — it was too much for my insecure teenage self to handle. It hurt so deeply that I avoided going back to my Dad’s house. We did not make the transition into a split-family with ease. It took years before I trusted him again.

How Could I Forget?

This incident had happened decades before the apology. Although the experience profoundly shaped the relationship I would develop with my dad, as the years rolled on, I actually forgot about it.

I forgot about the flagstone moment that summed up my childhood experience of rejection. It wasn’t an isolated event. But it was the headliner for several years.

How do you forget something like that? I don’t know, but I did.

That’s why I was so confused when my Dad apologized. He said he hadn’t understood at the time, but after years of reflection, now understood and was sorry that he had hurt me that way.

How do you react to an apology for a life-altering event that you have entirely blocked from your memory?

I figured it must not have been that big of a deal if I don’t even remember it. So I forgave him, and the conversation ended.

And Then I Remembered

As the days passed after his visit was over and he had made the long drive home, I began to remember. Not just what had happened, but how it felt and the deep insecurities that moment fed into. The rejection that I had adopted as if it were my new identity. This wasn’t the first time I had felt rejection, I think it was just one too many. The feelings of rejection had become too big to overlook, and I had started living from a place of rejection.

As the memories trickled back, I began to feel more and more upset. I had just easily forgiven him, told him it was no big deal because I didn’t even remember. But it was a big deal.

I had missed the moment to have a real conversation about what happened. To share my feelings, be understood. I wanted that moment back. I wanted a redo on that conversation. I wanted him to feel bad for all of the things I could now remember and apologize again.

I considered bringing it up again. Should I call him on the phone? Wait until his next visit? Hey, do you remember that time you apologized for rejecting me? And I forgave you? Well, I’d like to re-hash that one more time.

No, that just wasn’t going to work. Not only would it be awkward and potentially mean, but we would both have to relive a painful experience — again. What good would it do?

I sat with this idea for several weeks before I concluded that I needed to accept the original apology, for real this time, and let him keep the forgiveness. The fact that he had thought about that moment, tried to understand it (let’s be honest, the feelings of a teenage girl are confusing), and humbled himself to apologize — that’s huge! My dad is not a man who easily humbles himself. He has a big personality and a need to be right. All. The. Time. This apology was unprecedented.

I wish I could say that all of the childhood rejection has been healed, and I am no longer dealing with those issues. I guess an apology for a single incident just can’t stretch that far. But I now see more clearly how the rejection issues piled up the way that they did and resulted in my current state. I now know that my dad cares, in his own way, at least in part. Dredging it all up again would not bring more healing or closure. It would only cause more pain.

So I will take the healing that I did experience. I will take the renewed memories that help me better understand myself. I will forgive my dad and move on. Conversation over. Thanks, Dad, for doing your best.