You Gotta Wash the Dirty Laundry
Before You Put It Away
I miss my parents every day, especially my mother. My dad died twelve years ago, and after over sixty years of being married to him, my mother died a year later. It’s hard when you lose that safety net of knowing your parents will help you if you ever need them, even when you’re in your forties. I hadn’t relied on my parents for a long time, but when they were gone, I still felt a little intimidated that they were no longer there to catch me if I fell.
I adored my mother, still do, but my relationship with my dad was much more difficult. I hated him at one time, when I was a teenager and early twenties, even though I loved him. As an adult, I see him much more clearly and understand him so much better, and I have more good memories of him than bad, but the bad are, well, pretty bad. Still, I always knew he loved me in his own way, and I forgave him for the bad stuff a long time ago.
I thought when I forgave him, that the bad feelings I associated with him would go away, but once in a while, an old memory will float to the surface, and I’d have to remind myself that I forgave him a long time ago. It’s not that I expect to forget all the bad memories, but I didn’t think I’d have to deal with the anger and resentment anymore after I forgave him. I don’t like having to do that.
I’ve written about how bad memories are very prevalent for many of us these days. A lot of us are thinking of things that hurt or damaged us a long time ago. This is part of a divine plan. We need to deal with all of our baggage, before we can heal and ascend to higher consciousness. There is tremendous healing energy all around us, more than ever before, to help us do this, so now’s the time. If you find yourself reliving a bad memory in your life, think of it as an opportunity to finally deal with it, heal from it, and actively choose to let it go.
My father was an admirable man in so many ways. He quit school after the eighth grade to support his mother and siblings after his father deserted the family and started a new one. He became the head of the household at around fourteen years of age and worked more than full time from then on. He lied about his age and forged his birth certificate, so he could get a job with the fire department at seventeen, when the minimum age was twenty-one. He married my mother at seventeen and continued to financially support his mother and siblings for years.
My dad went hungry many times, growing up during the depression. He hoarded food for the rest of his life, always making sure he was prepared for the hard times he believed would eventually come again. He wanted to make sure his children never experienced the hunger he’d endured.
He eventually earned his GED and rose up the ranks in the fire department, retiring as a district chief. He was the strongest man, both physically and mentally I’ve ever known, and he taught me to be strong, to always pay my own way, and to stand on my own two feet. As an adult, when I got tired of being strong, all I had to do was go home for a visit and borrow some of his seemingly endless strength, just by hanging around him and soaking it up. He taught me many important lessons that have served me well.
Since he never really had a childhood, he didn’t understand why some things were important, like going to basketball games in high school, even if it was a school night, hanging out with your friends, or having nice clothes and spending money.
My dad ruled with an iron fist. There was no democracy in our home, no weighing in on family issues. What he said was law, and he didn’t care how you felt about it. Indeed, we never even voiced our disagreement, because we were all scared to do so. When I wanted to go out with my friends, I’d ask my mother to ask my father if I could go, because had I asked, he would have said no before I’d ever finished talking. Because I couldn’t talk to him and was afraid to disagree openly, I lied a lot. I didn’t think I had a choice.
He made all the decisions about what to do with the money, even though my mother worked just as hard and long as he did. He gave her a very small allowance each month that was supposed to cover anything she needed as well as her children’s needs. She usually went without, so we could have things like make-up and pantyhose. An avid outdoorsman, my dad always made sure he had the latest and best outdoor gear money could buy, regardless of cost.
I understand him so much better now than I did then. I admire him. I get that the things that bothered me the most about him were the very things that allowed him to overcome and rise above to conquer all the strikes against him. He beat the odds, and should never have been as successful as he was; he made his own way through life by sheer strength of will.
Once I was on my own and understood the man my father was, I realized he did the best he could. All things considered, he did very well overall. I made the active choice to forgive him for anything he’d done that hurt me at the time and shaped me in a negative way and knew that, despite the hardships, he’d also given me some very important lessons that still serve me, along with some great memories, many more good than bad.
Even after I came to terms with our history, understood him, and forgave him, I would still think of some of the bad times and begin to experience the anger and resentment I’d had as a kid. Whenever that happened, I shut it down and reminded myself that I’d forgiven him. In hindsight, that was a mistake.
You see, growing up, I never had a voice. I couldn’t argue or even state my point of view. I couldn’t openly disagree or choose my own way of doing things, so I never really dealt with all that anger and resentment. I had to push it down and lock it away, because there was no outlet for it. As an adult, even though I understood my dad so much better and chose to forgive all of his shortcomings and the harm he caused, I still hadn’t really faced that anger and resentment.
That’s why those bad memories kept coming to mind. It wasn’t until recently that I put it all together. Those memories were reminders that I hadn’t healed, that I hadn’t really dealt with the fallout. I finally realized that remembering the bad times was a prompt to take the opportunity to feel and react to things that scarred me and caused a whole lot of pain. Yes, I’d forgiven my dad, but I hadn’t been able to release the anger and resentment fully, because I hadn’t taken a good look at it, allowed myself to experience it, so I never really let it go.
So, here’s what I did. I wrote a letter to my dad. I thought back to all the things he’d done that had a negative effect on me, that had shaped me in negative ways. I listed every single memory I could think of, and I commented on each, identifying my feelings and the harm he’d caused. I told him how his actions had made me feel. I didn’t hold back. There was a lot of profanity included (which I’d never used in front of him), and I didn’t hold anything back. I’d set it aside for a few moments, then I’d think of something else to add. I wrote page after page expressing all the feelings I’d never been able to express before.
When I reached a stopping place, I wondered what I should do next. Should I burn those memories, literally and figuratively? She I follow up with a part two describing all of the good memories he’d given me? I thought about it, and I finally decided that I wasn’t going to do anything with those pages full of anger and resentment. I’ve decided to keep that list and add to it if I think of something else he did that upset me. I may never get rid of it.
The difference is, I finally embraced the emotions attached to the memories. I felt them like I’d never felt them before. I acknowledged them. I let myself be angry and resentful, because by God, I’d earned those feelings. I let myself forget for a while that I understood him now and I forgave him. I became that teenage girl all over again, and I allowed myself to feel all the crappy things I’d buried so long ago just to survive.
And you know what? I feel better! I still choose to forgive my dad, and I still love him, despite all the crappy things he did. I appreciate his strong points and the gifts he gave me that I still treasure. I really believe he did the very best he could, given his background and upbringing, and I can appreciate that. Now, that forgiveness feels more genuine, and I think I can finally release those bad feelings, because I’ve acknowledged them and experienced them once and for all. Now, I want to release them. Forgiving my dad has more meaning now, and it feels better. I feel better.
This was hard to write about. I can still hear my mother’s voice saying, “We don’t air our dirty laundry.” Sorry, Mama! I wrote about this, because I hope it helps others to put to rest some of their issues, to empty all that excess baggage that weighs you down. I meant it very sincerely when I forgave my dad, but it didn’t have the same meaning or significance it does now that I’ve allowed myself to be angry and resentful toward a man I love, who helped make me the person I am today.
It’s important to wash the laundry, before you put it away. I think I’ve done that now, and if more memories come up, I’ll just add them to the list, and repeat the process. In my case at least, I had to work through the memories and experience the emotions attached to them before I found peace and was able to feel true forgiveness. Whatever we have to do to definitively get rid of all the baggage we’ve acquired throughout our life is worth it in the end. Best wishes on your continued journey toward peace of mind and true joy.
Blessings!
If you’d like complete access to all articles on Medium, please click below.