A Tough Read.
Perhaps you have heard of the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the sons.That phrase derives from Biblical references (primarily in the books Exodus, Deuteronomy, and Numbers) to the sins (or iniquities) of one generation passing on to another.
Why, you might wonder, are the children blamed and/or punished for the what the father did wrong. Before responding to that question, one might first think of sins as missing the mark when it comes to doing the right or loving thing.
Children learn first and primarily from watching and experiencing what their parents do. So, if a father, who feels inadequate and thus threatened, chooses to exercise greater control to feel secure, then his children will do likewise. A puppeteer-father can be very critical, even belittling to his child to gain the upper hand. In doing so the father then creates an inferiority complex in his children. Now the child is set up to use the same defence mechanism that the father uses––establish firm control over others, an often unpleasant experience for the target-person. Once you have been under another’s self-serving thumb, how can you ever trust someone else?
That’s the issue that is explored in my novel, Baggage burdens. Jill’s father, Frank, exercised extensive control over her and her mother. That, Jill could still handle, but not the beatings she received when he came home drunk. His broken promises, not to hit her again, sealed her impression that people, that men in particular, could not be trusted.
A moment of silence follows as Frank catches his breath and looks around. His eyes fall on an opened catalogue on the kitchen table. It displays the latest graduation dress fashions. Jill has a little more than a year before junior high graduation, but she is already anticipating what she might wear and discussing the possibilities with her mother.
Jill’s father takes a deep breath. “What the hell is this?” he demands, pointing to the page titled Graduation Gowns.
“It’s nothing,” pleads Alice.
“You’re damn right it’s nothing. We’re not going to waste any money on any foolish dress she’s only going to wear once.” He launches himself out of the chair and rushes at Alice, shoving her hard into the wall.
Her head hits, starting a headache. It’ll last all night.
He grabs her upper arms, leaving red marks.
As he shakes her, she cries out, “Frank, you’re hurting me.”
When she looks into his face, he blurts out, “You’re not going to buy anything like that. We can’t afford it. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, yes,” Alice answers.
Frank’s grip eases.
Jill’s life with her parents was so bad that she had to run away from home. But she had learned her lesson well. To feel safe, be in control. That’s what happened in her family. While she’s aware of her controlling tendency and she doesn’t want to be like her father, many times she can’t help it. It is part of who she is. As a result she creates frustration for her husband, Joseph, and her eldest son, Daniel. How can you love a character like that? How can you pull for her? That’s a tough read.
Jill hesitantly says, “I want to ask you something else.”
The changed tone in Jill’s voice alerts Rebecca. Something important is coming. Jill turns silent as if she regrets what she just said.
“Listen, if you want to ask me something in confidence, consider it done.”
Rebecca quits sipping her tea and slides her chair closer to Jill.
“Just between the two of us?”
“You’ve got it.”
“At the bakery, I had everything under control. I knew what I was doing. Now, sometimes I feel like I’m fumbling around in the dark,” begins Jill. “I have a problem. It’s not Joseph who has the problem. I have. And I’m not certain there’s an answer.” Jill continues to gather her thoughts. “You’ve been married for a long time. Things seem to work out so well between you and Thomas. I thought you might have some advice for me.” Again she’s silent.
Rebecca reaches out and holds Jill’s hand. “Go ahead.”
Jill studies Rebecca for a moment. “Have you ever had sex with Thomas that was too rough?”
“At times.”
Rebecca’s answer comes so fast that Jill concludes this is normal.
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course. I’ve had to talk to Thomas about it.”
“And it worked?”
“It did. You might say I had to teach him to be more sensitive to how I felt.”
“You don’t think that was, well, controlling?”
“I was just giving him information. I knew he’d use it in the right way. He’s truly a loving man.”
“You see, I just don’t want to be a control freak. It frightens me. That’s what my father was. I don’t want to be like him.”
“Talking and sharing, especially sharing your feelings with your husband, works wonders. Really. It’s not controlling.”
As Jill approaches Joseph, she watches him robotically grab sack after sack of potatoes and toss them into the wagon tightly against the last bag. He plods through loose, dry soil to Jill.
“About a month ago, you brought up Daniel’s schooling.”
Joseph speaks in a low, controlled monotone. She suspects leashed anger. At times her father sounded like that before he exploded. Jill nods in response to Joseph’s assertion.
“I hear you tried to convince Daniel he should take his schooling at home with his sister after we talked. It scared him.” Joseph’s neck stretches forward as if he is preparing to snap at any objection before she can start it. “I told him I’d fix it with you so you wouldn’t bring it up again. We talked about it again last week. You agreed you wouldn’t say anything about it. Remember?”
She’d hoped Daniel might be more open to reconsidering. Still disturbed by Joseph’s aggressive tone, she nods.
“I told him the issue was settled. Not to worry. Then last night you hinted about it again. If he gets wind of it, he’ll be so upset. We’ll both lose his trust. I don’t expect to hear about Daniel and homeschooling ever again. Got it?”
Jill’s persistent efforts to gain control over her son by homeschooling him fail, but she does create a strong sense of distrust in her son’s mind and perhaps a dislike in the reader’s mind. Because of Daniel’s father’s defense and other loving actions, Daniel has an alternate model of behavior to follow. That breaks the sequence of a father’s sins being visited upon his sons.
However, that still leaves Jill with trust issues and her need to be in control and thus frustrate those around her. What hope is there for her? Her husband’s loving actions, while appreciated, do little to solve Jill’s conviction that people cannot be trusted.
Enter Bill, a retired psychologist, a family friend. Through his gentle probing questions, he exposes her underlining fear. His unquestionable caring record enables him to ask a critical question––you do trust me, don’t you? Now her hidden motivation is exposed. She’s forced to examine the legitimacy of trusting no one, the rule she learned from her father, to some extent her mother, from her school friend, and from a past-boyfriend. She is now beginning her first step on the road to healing.
Sitting down, she says, “There are always things a parent needs to tell a child to do that they won’t like. Nothing could have had a lasting effect. A child should do what a parent tells them to. A parent knows best. Right?”
“Right,” says Bill confidently. “And Joseph would have supported you on that. So, was there anything about how to raise Daniel that you and Joseph disagreed on?”
“You know, it’s been so long ago. I doubt it will do any good.”
“Leave an issue unresolved, and you leave an open window for the devil to turn people against you.”
“I don’t know.” Reluctant to follow Bill’s idea, Jill shakes her head.
“It’s worth a try. Trust me.” Seeing Jill’s silence, he asks again, “You do trust me, don't you?”
Bill’s question opens a wound that Jill tries to ignore. My friend, the one I met in Chicago, the one I trusted, the one who sided with Joseph when Joseph said he wanted to divorce me.Jill recalls Joseph’s words, “Even Bill understands why I’m so frustrated with you.” How could he? And now he asks if I trust him?
Her betrayal memory burns like hot coals. She looks at Bill, sitting, leaning back in his chair, always leaning back waiting. Waiting for an answer, like I’m having a session in his office. Why does he have to be so much like a counselor?
Wrinkles cross Bill’s face.
I’ve got to tell him something. If I tell him why I can’t trust him …The prospect of Bill leaving worries Jill. He’s been easy to share personal concerns with. That didn’t happen much with Joseph.
Her decision to leave Bill’s skeleton in the closet is cut short by Bill’s earlier words: “What’s important is that Daniel can see that you’re trying, that you want to fix things up.”
The irony is that often those that feel the most need for control, are the ones being controlled by their own fears, insecurities, and doubts.
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haiku capsule:
parent’s base lesson
control others to feel safe
a child’s warped bedrock
Nextblog: The Devil You Say.
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